pry. Was she quitting music altogether? I didn’t want to watch her detractors gloat over that possibility. But she’d sworn me to secrecy, not that I’d go on the boards and gossip about her. Especially not now. Not after she’d morphed into a flesh-and-blood person.
She must have taken my remark as skepticism or judgment. She laughed. “Yeah, I know. Sounds sketchy, but it’s a Master’s program at Long Island University. The Brooklyn campus is within walking distance from here.”
“No, it’s not that.” She’d planted a seed. “It’s just that I’d love to get a degree in computer sciences. I never thought about taking night classes.”
“Give me your email address, and I can shoot you a link to my school. Maybe they have a program for you there.”
Wheels in my head started turning. I knew I could do what Dave and Ajit did. A degree would help me prove it.
Adam tapped on the glass, and Eden stood. “Food’s ready at last.”
I would have given anything to be able to set up a live feed of the next hour for everyone else to be a part of. For the rest of my life, I’d be able to re-experience the time I hung out in Brooklyn on a warm night as the sky turned periwinkle and Adam Copeland asked me if I was done with the ketchup.
As much as I wanted to remain present, I shrank back, intending to observe the scene from a safe distance, quietly.
But Andrew, sitting to my right, had other plans.
“Layla, right?” He passed me a casserole dish of baked beans.
I scooped some onto my plate, nodding. “And you’re Andrew.”
“I am.” He batted his eyes, and that feeling I knew him redoubled. “You work with Jo?”
“I just started yesterday.” My gaze lingered. I was dying to figure out where I might have seen him. “And what do you do?”
He gave me a saucy little shrug. “I’m a singer.”
I tried to picture him in a club, at a microphone, holding a guitar, on an album cover, under a spotlight. Nope. I’d never seen him. He must have shared a resemblance to someone else.
“And Zion?”
Zion didn’t break concentration with the hamburger he was meticulously assembling. “Photographer and editor at the Daily Feed.”
“Oh, how interesting. I’ve read that paper before.”
They peddled gossip about celebrities. They’d manufactured the stories that vilified Eden when she started dating Adam, and then they ran a scathing article on Micah last year, dragging Jo down into the muck with him.
I wanted to ask how an editor at that paper was welcome here.
As if reading my mind, Andrew added, “That’s where Jo used to work.”
I’d known that but forgotten. Everything sort of clicked into place, and I stilled my tongue, thinking the rest of the questions swirling in my mind as nosy and impolite. Instead, I chose to recede and mentally record everything.
With an end to the ordinary business of passing around the condiments and complimenting the chef on the grilled burgers, everyone tore into their food. I’d experienced this scene hundreds of times in my own Indiana suburban backyard. I tried to pretend like this was normal, nibbling on my burger, eavesdropping on the banter between Adam and Eden or the bickering between Eden and her mom.
“Leave it, Mom. He’s fine.”
“He’s going to catch a chill. That blanket’s too flimsy.” Peg turned to Adam. “You talk to her. She’s always been so stubborn.”
Eden threw up her hands. “It’s seventy degrees out here.”
The baby, slumbering in the bouncy seat, appeared perfectly content.
Zion cut his eyes at Andrew. “You really want to have to worry about whether or not a blanket is necessary on a night like this?”
Andrew grimaced. “When you put it like that.”
Peg raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking of having children?”
Zion showed us his palms, like a stop sign. “We are not. Andrew is.”
Andrew sighed. “Think how fun it would be. We could dress him up in little outfits and sing to him.”
Adam laughed. “If that’s all you want, you’re free to come play with Joshua.”
It felt like such a nice extended family. Even when they argued or teased, there was so much love. I envied them this community.
Conversation remained light through dinner, and when we started pushing empty plates back, Peg stood to clear. I jumped up to help, but she dismissed me with a wave. “Stay.”
Adam didn’t pay her any mind and loaded the condiments in the crook of his elbow and snagged a couple of empty bottles with his fingers. He returned