When I make my way downstairs, I find Mandy in the kitchen, head lowered over a cup of coffee and the magazine in her hands. From the doorway, I have a few seconds to take in her outfit her before she notices me. She’s wearing a short leather skirt, high-heel boots that almost reach her knees, and a top that leaves very little to the imagination. I’m dressed in jeans, an off-shoulder top that isn’t too snug, and flat boots. I don’t know how long gigs usually last, but I’m pretty sure I won’t get blisters, which is my top priority.

“Ready?” I ask with more enthusiasm than I actually feel.

Mandy turns and her gaze swipes over me. Her thoughts are visible in the frown across her forehead, and she opens her mouth before I can stop her. “That’s your version of sexy?”

“It’s my version of being interested enough to listen. God. You just can’t help yourself.”

Her shoulders are tense with something.

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitates, her back still turned on me. “I just—”

She sniffles.

“Mandy? Oh, my God.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her in a hug. “Are you crying?”

She shakes her head even though two tears are trickling down her cheek.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

Now I’m worried sick. Something’s wrong with her, I just know it.

“It’s happening,” Mandy whispers.

“What’s happening?” I frown.

Is a hurricane hitting Montana after all and we’re going to die?

“Mile High,” she speaks between sniffles. “I’ve been trying to get tickets for ages, but they were always sold out. Tonight we’re finally going to see them. I cannot believe it’s that day.”

Oh. My. God.

I stare at her, dumbfounded. She must have gone ape-shit crazy because no grown-up woman in her right mind would cry at the prospect of seeing some dudes wail into a microphone, no matter how talented they are. I mean, seriously, that’s so Europe in the Dark Ages, when people had no television and the Internet to entertain them.

“God, you scared me. I thought you were sick or something.” I slap her shoulder playfully. “You’re a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. You’re clever and educated. Get a grip, or you’re going alone.”

“Thank you.” She smiles and nods.

I stare at her, expecting more drama. When none comes, I heave a sigh.

“Don’t mention it. You know I’ll always be here to talk some sense into you. That’s what friends are for,” I say and let go of her.

“No. Thank you for winning the tickets,” Mandy says. “Now, if you could get changed…”

I shake my head in disbelief, hold up a hand, annoyed, and leave the kitchen, not in the least interested if she’s following.

“What did I say?” Mandy calls after me.

“Where do I even start?” I yell back. “The answer is no. I won’t be bullied into wearing a slutty outfit just because you want to meet the band.”

I sling my handbag over my shoulder and grab my jacket. I most certainly won’t be freezing my ass off out there, not even for the likes of Mile High.

The clicking sound of heels echoes down the hall a moment before Mandy reaches me.

I peer down at her shoes doubtfully. The heels are so high, at some point, I know, her feet will hurt so much she’ll either want to swap or I’ll have to carry her. Usually, I end up giving her my shoes. But today I’ll let her pay the price of beauty just because she’s inflicting this kind of torture upon me.

“Where’s this gig?” I ask.

“Josh knows. He’s driving us.”

As if on cue, a car honks outside.

“Josh? Your most recent conquest?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yes. So?” Mandy shoots me a frown.

“What about my car?”

“We’ll get it after the gig.”

“I can’t believe you asked him to trudge along.” I brush my hair out of my eyes, barely able to contain my laughter. “He’ll be so into you when you start squealing in his ear.”

“I don’t squeal.”

“You so do when Mile High’s on.”

“So what?” She glares at me. “He told me he’s a fan himself.”

God, no!

Not another fan.

I’d rather be stuck with a zombie and the danger of being eaten alive than with a complete snooze fest of a rendition of Mile High’s lyrics.

I open the door and head out to the waiting pickup truck, settling in the back seat. Mandy takes the front seat a few moments later, ignoring me as she leans into Josh to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

It’s so obvious they have a fling, I turn away to give them privacy.

“Are you ladies excited?” Josh asks.

“Hell, yeah.” Mandy giggles.

“Hell, no,” I mumble.

Josh laughs and meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. His dark blue eyes shimmer with unspoken understanding. Or maybe that’s what I want to see in them because they’re warm and friendly and the complete opposite of Kellan’s, with his brooding looks and evasiveness. Josh’s hand travels to touch Mandy’s arm as he’s saying something to her. I turn away again, feeling just a little bit sorry for myself at the idea she’s found someone so nice and easygoing while I seem to have caught the attention of Mr. Complicated-I-don’t-do-relationships-aloof.

“Josh, do we have any plans after the gig?” Mandy asks.

“I have a surprise in store for you.” He winks at her.

“Now we’re talking,” Mandy says.

Let me guess!

It involves his bedroom and handcuffs, which I’m sure he has stacked somewhere in there. All guys do.

“Thanks for driving us,” Mandy says.

He smiles at her for a second before his gaze focuses back on the dark street. “Anything for you.”

I lean back against the seat and try to blend in with the upholstery to give them privacy.

But in secret, I wish I was back home—my real home in NYC—with a bowl of popcorn or double fudge ice cream, watching a good movie while downing an entire bottle of wine.

Get drunk.

Anything to help me forget the taste of his lips on mine. Forget the heady scent of his aftershave and the sound of his laughter. Stop the echo of his name inside my mind and all the silly wishes and hopes that he’s thinking of me the way I’m thinking of him.

I’m losing myself. That’s not something I envisioned happening because I know that soon enough, maybe even today, maybe tomorrow, he’ll be chasing the next girl. Someone who won’t be me.

I’ll become a blurred memory.