The Reclaimed Records office building was right downtown, surrounded by dozens of shops and restaurants. That didn’t make my dilemma any easier.

I knew what Julian’s favorite foods used to be, but I didn’t know if that had changed since I’d last been with him. What if I chose something he no longer liked?

I realized the mental path I was going down and tried to change my line of thinking. Who cared if he liked what I chose or not? He’d left the decision up to me.

Still, I couldn’t help remember all the times Keith had left me to make a decision, only to be left feeling small and disheartened after my choice was chastised and derided. After a while, I learned to leave the decisions up to him. It was less painful that way.

As Julian and I walked down the street side by side, the tension between us grew. It wasn’t just because I was taking so long to pick somewhere to eat, although I did catch him side-eyeing me every time we walked passed another restaurant.

The tension was because of the awkward silence. Before, the silence between us had always felt comfortable. Julian was never one to talk much, and although I was chatty enough for the both of us, I was content to just be with him, even without words.

Now, though, that silence was long and drawn out. It felt like there was a vast canyon between us, as if each of us were trying to yell something at the other, but neither of us could hear. I would take a breath to say something, then think better of it and close my mouth. Julian would inhale, hold his breath for a beat, then exhale quietly.

There was so much unsaid between us. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If we brought up the things we really wanted to say, the things we wanted to ask, we might end up fighting in the middle of the street.

But the thought of engaging in inane small talk with someone I once thought I’d spend the rest of my life with felt like torture.

“Are you okay?” Julian asked, breaking the silence and looking down at my feet.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied.

“Those shoes,” he said.

“What about them?”

“They look…” He trailed off, searching for words. “Awful.”

“Are you insulting my taste in clothing?” I asked, incredulous.

“No,” he shook his head. “Just… Don’t they squish your toes?”

I assumed he was referring to the pointed-toe style I was wearing.

“I wear heels all the time,” I told him.

Truthfully, the shoes were a little uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to wearing these kind of professional pumps. Give me a round-toed, thick-soled platform boot any day.

“We’ve been walking for a while,” Julian said. “Just want to make sure you’re okay in those.”

“I’m fine,” I said, irritated at both his concern and at the reminder I hadn’t chosen a place yet. “Here,” I said, stopping in front of the next place we passed, a Greek restaurant. “Let’s eat here.” And put an end to this nonsense.

“You don’t like feta,” he said.

I flushed. It was true, I wasn’t a fan of all the feta that came along with Greek food.

I scanned the area quickly and saw a spot.

“Fine, let’s go there instead,” I said. “Let’s get Japanese.”

“You do love spicy tuna,” Julian nodded.

It had been a while since I’d last had a spicy tuna roll. A long while, in fact. Keith wasn’t a fan of Japanese, so we never went. Even during the times when I’d stopped for lunch by myself, I’d rarely gone. Keith would ask where I’d eaten, then roll his eyes and go on and on about my weird taste in food. So I stopped, just to avoid hearing him put me down.

Shit, he really had done a number on me, hadn’t he?

“Let’s go,” I said, heading over to the restaurant with a confident stride I didn’t feel inside.

When we were situated in a booth with menus in our hands, Julian broke the silence again. It was weird hearing him talk so much.

“What have you been up to?” he asked.

I looked at him over the menu. “Up to?”

“News about Ever Darling has been scarce,” he said. “I thought maybe you had your head down, working on a new album.”

Julian had been thinking about me. Wondering how I’d been doing.

“No,” I said. “No new album.”

“So you did quit music?” he asked. “Just like that?”

I looked down at my menu, avoiding his gaze. “Just like that.”

“I thought you’d never give it up,” he said, repeating his earlier words.

“I needed a change.”

“Drastic change,” he said. “You were getting big. People were lining up to work with you.”

Julian stared at me. His dark eyes were penetrating, as if trying to unravel all my secrets. I remembered staring into those eyes for hours, lying in bed together, arms and legs tangled, a sweaty mess of limbs, basking in the afterglow.

Heat rose within me, memories bringing forth feelings I’d long forgotten. I inhaled a slow breath to calm myself, trying not to squirm in my seat. I closed the menu and set it on the table.

“I’m ready to order,” I said.

Julian closed his own menu and set it down, indicating he was ready as well. I looked around for the waiter to call him over.

“How’s Abby?” Julian asked.

I relaxed with a soft smile. “She’s doing great. She’s in college now.”

“Little Abby, already in college?” Julian shook his head. “When did we get so old?”

“I still think of her as that awkward little tween,” I confessed. “She hates it.”

“It’s hard to cut the apron strings, huh?” he asked.

“I’m not that bad,” I said. “It’s not like I tried to give her a curfew or anything.”

“I can’t imagine she’d take well to that.”

“She’s a good girl,” I said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. I just worry, like all big sisters.”

Julian nodded in understanding, although he was an only child.

The waiter appeared and we stopping talking. I ordered several rolls and a side of edamame. Julian did the same, although his side was bowl of beef and rice.

The waiter wrote down our order carefully and deliberately, taking his time. I caught him staring at Julian with quick peeks. I wondered if he would say something, but he simply left with a nod once he’d finished scribbling on his notepad.

“I think he recognized you,” I said.

“Doubt it,” Julian said. “Cerise and Nathan are the face of Cherry Lips. No one cares about the keyboardist.”

“That’s not true,” I protested.

“Name one famous rock star who plays keys,” he said with quirk of his lips.

“Elton John,” I said immediately. “Stevie Wonder.”

“They’re solo artists, and they play piano,” he pointed out. “Name a member of a rock band.”

Julian was right that the lead singers and guitarists were usually the most well known band members.

“Keith Emerson,” I said.

“From Emerson, Lake and Palmer?” Julian asked. “Cheater. His name is in the band’s name.”

Not to mention, he shared a name with my other ex. I’d always have bad associations with that name.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I never wanted my face out there. It’s all about the music.”

Julian did shy away from the spotlight. He always had been about the music before anything else. The music always came first.

And that fact helped bring about the end of our band.

“How is Keith, by the way?” Julian asked. The twist of his lips told me he hated to ask and was only doing it to be polite.

Anxiety spiked through my chest. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Keith Fielding, the producer who had offered Where Angels Burn a major label contract. The one I’d turned to for comfort when Julian left me and the band.

The one who fucked me up inside and got me blackballed from the industry when I finally mustered the courage to leave him.

“He’s not in the picture anymore,” I said shortly.

“Oh?”

Julian’s tone was curious, but he must have caught my tone because he didn’t press.

“What else have you been up to?” he asked, continuing the interrogation from before. I’d never actually answered the question.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I waved my hand around vaguely in the air. “Some behind the scenes stuff.” I crammed a roll in my mouth so I didn’t have to keep talking.

The truth was, I hadn’t been doing anything. After Keith, no one in the industry would work with Ever Darling. I mostly kept to myself, did a lot of reading, some volunteer work. In the beginning, I tried to write songs, but it was too painful. I’d only recently been able to look at my guitar again.

“Stuff like songwriting?” Julian asked.

I didn’t respond, just continued chewing.

“What about you?” I asked once I’d swallowed the roll. I needed to steer the conversation away from me. “How have you been doing?”

“Great,” he said. “Really great. Cherry Lips is the best thing to happen to me.”

A pang of hurt went through me. At one time, he would have said meeting me was the best thing that had ever happened.

“The guys are like my brothers,” he continued. “And Cerise is a force to be reckoned with. People with that passion and drive are rare. We just clicked. We saw something inside each other.”

“It sounds like you’ve really found your place,” I said, pushing down the pain radiating through my chest.

“They’re my family.”

A sad look crossed his face. As he flicked his gaze to the side, I knew Julian was thinking about his own biological family. He hated talking about it and I never pushed him, but I knew his mom left when he was young, leaving him in the care of an aunt. From what I’d sensed throughout the years we’d been together, it hadn’t been the most welcoming of environments.

It must have been a good feeling, to find a place where you were wanted.

“The group has been good for Seth, too,” Julian said.

I clenched my jaw to keep from spitting out a curse word. My hands curled into fists. I put them in my lap.

“That’s nice,” I said flatly. “Can you pass me a napkin?”

Julian’s brows drew down into a frown. “I know things are tense between us, but there’s no reason Seth—”

“I’m going to the restroom.” I stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”

My fists shook as I made my way to the back of the restaurant.

Things had finally started to ease up between me and Julian. We’d managed to have an entire conversation with only a few moments of awkward tension.

And then he’d brought up Seth.

I gripped the sink with both hands and leaned forward, staring at myself in the mirror. My lips were pressed into a thin line and the corners of my eyes were crinkled in a glare. I fought to smooth my expression.

I resented Seth for being one of the reasons my band broke up. For being the reason Julian had left me. Julian had dated both guys and girls before me, but Seth was straight, so it wasn’t like he really stole Julian away from me — not in that way at least.

But what Seth could do was string his best friend along for years. He could make him think he might have a chance. He could dangle that carrot of maybe one day.

And I hated him for it.

But Seth was a member of Cherry Lips. I was going to run into him eventually, and possibly even be asked to work with him. I couldn't let my anger overtake me every time anyone so much as mentioned him.

I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I forced my fingers to relax and let go of their tight grip on the sink. My forehead was no longer lined with anger. I splashed some water on my red face to cool it down and smoothed my blouse.

The best thing I could hope for was to get this job done as soon as possible so I could get the hell out of this whole situation before it blew up in my face.

When I returned to the table, Julian was sitting still, staring at my empty seat, looking almost lost. His shoulders slumped as he played with one of his chopsticks.

“I was thinking about your song,” I said as I slid into my seat.

He looked up, a guarded look on his face.

“I’ve got some idea for lyrics that might go well with it,” I said. “Why don’t I work on it for a few days, then we can get together again and I’ll show you what I have?”

Julian sat up straighter in his seat and put his chopstick down.

“Sure,” he said. “I want to get started right away. I want enough time to make it the best it can be.”

“It’ll be amazing,” I reassured him.

“I know it will.” He offered me a small smile.

When the waiter came with the bill, we both reached for it. His hand landed on top of mine. The touch was so warm, so familiar. I inhaled sharply as his hand squeezed mine.

“This one’s on me,” he said.

I lifted an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not going to let you pay for me,” I said.

He raised his own eyebrow. “You know I’ll fight you on that.”

“Should I come back?” the waiter asked, sounding nervous.

I reached into my purse and grabbed a handful of bills, enough to cover my half. I shoved them into the waiter’s hand.

“There,” I told him. “Don’t give that back.” I turned to Julian. “We’ll split it. Fair?”

He shook his head ruefully, but did the same, taking money out of his wallet and handing it to the waiter.

I quickly did mental math to count his tip. My eyes widened as I nearly bit my tongue. Julian had never been stingy with his tips, but damn. Cherry Lips really had hit it big.

Just as we exited the restaurant, Julian put a hand on my arm. His mouth had turned down into a frown.

“I’m sorry about mentioning—” he started to say.

“It’s okay,” I cut him off.

“Talking about the old band hurts,” he acknowledged. “But we can’t pretend it didn’t happen. We were together for years.”

I knew he meant both the band, and the two of us. Sometimes it seemed like our relationship and Where Angels Burn were one in the same. We were so intertwined, it was hard to think about one without automatically thinking of the other.

“I just want to concentrate on the present,” I said.

Because thinking about the past was only going to make me regret having agreed to this entire thing.