Except that time with Devlin in New York City. Tingly heat courses through me at the memory, but I push it aside. Now that I’ve given it some thought after that awkward breakfast with the band, I’ve decided what happened in New York was probably just a fluke. Some combination of the gallery opening, trying to be “bad” and the fact that it was my first one-night stand. I’m certain it isn’t replicable, even with the same guy. Just like art. You can never replicate any piece exactly, even if it’s your own. That’s how experts can tell if something’s been forged.
“Just be sure to use condoms,” Tasha says.
I do spew my coffee out this time, and she pats my back, handing me a napkin.
I look down and see a few drops on my knees. I wipe them off, wad up the paper and throw it at Tasha, who laughs as it bounces off her chest. “So when is Mr. Devlin Marsh going to show up?”
I frown. “I don’t know. We talked about living here but didn’t really discuss the details. I guess it’ll be soon, though. He said he needed to drop by Dallas for a few days first.” And I don’t mind giving him time to sort things out there before moving in here, as long as it isn’t more than a week.
“So, have you told him about your ‘condition’?” she asks. And by “condition,” she means face blindness.
“Not yet. Why?” Even though it’s not something I generally tell people about, Devlin is now my husband, even if it’s only for a year. Maybe I should tell him, so he’s not caught by surprise.
“Just curious. If you haven’t told him yet, don’t.”
“How come?”
“How come? You know how he is better than me! You’ve read articles about your brother’s band. He’s the worst, Becca. The kind of man you can’t depend on. He’s got more lines than a parking lot! Goes through women faster than makeup wipes. And the one serious girlfriend he had? He wrote a song that was basically ‘fuck you, bitch’ when they broke up. A man like that has no judgment about what he should keep quiet about and what he shouldn’t. There’s no guarantee he won’t write a ‘fuck you’ divorce song after the marriage ends because it didn’t go the way he wanted or something. He could talk about your face blindness in it.”
The warning surprises me. I hadn’t thought about that. None of my ex-boyfriends were famous enough that people would care what they said. On top of that, I assumed Devlin wouldn’t be so mean, not because he likes me, but because of his friendship with my brother.
But then… That friendship is based on the band staying together. What if it doesn’t? Bands do break up…
“Okay,” I say slowly. “You’re probably right. He doesn’t need to know.”
“Exactly—”
Three loud knocks interrupt her. Tasha makes an impatient sound.
I get up, wondering what this is about. The local delivery people know I prefer to have packages left at my door. And I don’t remember ordering anything that requires a signature.
Unless… It’s the legal document Devlin was talking about? But he could just bring it with him when he moves in.
I open the door. “Yes?” I say, looking at a tall man in a gray uniform. The nametag over his heart reads:
TAD
RELIABLE MOVING
“Hello, ma’am. My name’s Tad.” His voice booms like thunder. “Are you Ms. Becca Marsh?”
“I’m Becca Bane…” I trail off. I’m married now, so… “Actually, sorry, yes, I am Becca Marsh. Just got married.” I smile, showing him my ring.
“Great. I have some things for your husband.”
“Oh. Okay. Is he with you?” I try to look beyond him and see only a big truck and a couple of men getting ready to unload stuff.
“No, ma’am. Just his things. I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He probably just couldn’t bring everything with him.”
“I suppose not…” I thought he’d pack light. No more than an SUV’s worth of stuff. Men don’t need a lot… Do they? Max certainly doesn’t. “Well, um… Go ahead and bring it in.”
I show the men where to put the things—three boxes labeled clothes in the master bedroom and the rest in the guest bedroom. Devlin also shipped a drum set, which will have to go in the den. I’ve left it empty because I still have no clue what I want to do with that space.
I get out of their way and sit with Tasha.
She starts, “He’s been busy—”
Sylvie bursts in through the door left open for the moving crew. She’s perfectly put together, her bleached hair piled just right with just enough spray to hold it until she’s ready to wash it. A spaghetti-strap dress with the Texas star in the center shows off the perfect body she spends hours in the gym maintaining. Perfect manicure and pedicure.