She shot me a grin, and I smiled weakly back. "Hey, Riles, get over here," she said, opening her arms as if to hug me. "Bring your onesie, too. We'll do this one together."

I walked over to her couch and gave her a big hug. A look of concern passed over her face. "You okay? I worried this might not be a good idea so soon after Ja—"

"What did we agree about that name?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

She made a zipping motion over her lips. "Right. He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken. Anyway, if you need to get out of here, I understand. The estrogen level in this room is way beyond the sanity point."

I shook my head, sitting on the couch next to her. "This is a huge day for you. I'm not going to let some stupid washed-up rock star ruin it for either of us."

"Good," she said, reaching for a yellow marker in a coffee table basket. "The shower's almost over anyway. Just a few marked-up onesies and party favors to go."

I smiled at her, grabbing a green marker. "Thanks, Kristen."

"For what?"

"Telling me we should have the baby shower here," I said. "I know I've complained about it, but at least it gave me something to do."

"Why do you think I asked you to do it here?" she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she drew a yellow sun.

"You told me the venue cancelled."

"Because you'd have never done it otherwise. But look, it helped, didn't it?"

I nodded, smiling. It was just like her to tell the white lie for my benefit, and she was right: keeping busy had helped. Helping get the shower ready, at least, had been good for me. So why was it that as soon as I was in the party itself, my enthusiasm was gone?

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Kris," I admitted, drawing what I hoped looked like a turtle on the onesie. "I know Jax and me would never work, it's just—I look at all this, and I feel like everyone here is with their special person. And for a little while, I really thought I'd found mine."

She looked into my eyes with concern. "It's okay to have a broken heart, you know," she said. "And it's okay you didn't take anyone's advice. I like that you don't do what everyone says. It gives you the best stories."

That brought a small smile to my face. "Thanks, Kris. I needed that." I added a face to the turtle with a red marker.

A breeze wafted through the curtains, and I heard an acoustic guitar strum on the street below. A C chord, I realized, the bittersweet memory of playing among the broken guitars flashing into my head. Jax taught me that. I tried to shut the memory out.

Then a D chord played. And a G. Just three chords, and you can play a song . . .

I shook my head. This was no time to get all nostalgic. "That window cannot stay open," I said, rising from the couch.

The three chords played in succession as I walked toward the billowing curtains. C, D, G. C, D, G.

Psssssh. Anyone can do that. Even I can do that.

And then I heard a deep voice:

How can I write you something new

when everything's been said?

How do I tell you all the sweet things

I'm feeling in my head?

My song. My silly lyrics I'd written after Jax taught me how to play guitar. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of sick joke? I flung the curtains to the side and looked out the window.

There, on the sidewalk, I saw Jax strumming an acoustic guitar, singing the song I'd written him. Jax, in the flesh, his body skimmed by the same black t-shirt and blue jeans he wore during the tour, his hair falling untamed around his eyes. He was still the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.

I watched him, and suddenly it felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

Because it didn't change anything. He'd ended things childishly, pushed me away as hard as he could. He'd told me I was the trigger to his trauma.

So why was he underneath my window, singing the lyrics of the song I'd written him?

As I stuck my head out the window, he looked up at me, and our eyes met, his scarred brow rising. Is this really happening?

And then, the last stanza of my song ended, but he was still singing—words I hadn't written, lyrics I'd never heard before, with a new chord added seamlessly to the structure, one I didn't know how to play:

You meant more than I could know

When I forced you to leave

Since the day I watched you go

I can barely breathe

You may wonder whether

what we had was true

But I break when we're not together

I'm myself when I'm with you

Behind me, the entire baby shower was watching me at the window. The women started talking excitedly behind their hands as the verse ended.

"Jax," I breathed as my jaw slackened, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. He'd caused me so much pain, but now he was right here, asking for . . . what? Forgiveness? A second chance? He was incredibly gorgeous, but his face was almost painful for me to look at after everything that he'd said the last time we'd been together.

He played a final chord, then looked up with soulful eyes. "Riley, let me come up. Please. I just want to talk."

I tore my eyes away, suddenly paralyzed with indecision. He'd made a sweet gesture—but he'd also made a complete disaster of things when we were together. Eyes wide, I turned around to Kristen. "Oh God, Kris, what do I do?"

One of the baby shower attendees, a woman I'd only met a few times named Bev, butted in with a response before Kristen could say anything. "Is he serenading you? That's so freaking romantic," she said, her voice sounding dreamy.

Kristen narrowed her eyes. "That's Riley's ex," she said, and Bev suddenly bit her lip, looking chastised.

"And I was hoping I'd never have to see him again," I said to Kristen. "So of course he shows up."

Kristen eyed me with one brow raised. "Hey, I'm all for girl power, but are you sure that's what you really think? To me, it sure looks like you've been pining over him since you left California."

I glared at her. "You're not helping." The last thing I needed was a reminder of how emotionally bereft Jax's breakup had left me.

"Suit yourself," she said, stirring her virgin cocktail idly. "I'd just hate for you to regret later on that you didn't talk to him. Even if it's just to tell him to fuck off."

Bev gave me a look with one raised eyebrow. "He's got a pretty great voice. And he's gorgeous. If you don't want him, I'll take him."

We both shot her a dismayed glance, and she was quiet again.

"Look," I said, a skeptical look on my face, "I'm not going to set myself up to get hurt again. After how we ended, why would I even want to listen to what he has to say?"

"You don't have to jump into bed with him," Kristen said. "I'm just saying, hear the guy out. Let him speak his piece. He obviously cares a lot, or he wouldn't be here."

"So, what, you're saying I should just invite him up? Now? In the middle of your baby shower with half the socialites in Manhattan attending? If he wants to come up that badly, he can wait for a better time."

Suddenly, Kristen got a mischievous look in her eye.

"Ladies!" she yelled, tapping a spoon to her glass to get the room's attention. "This party is officially moving down the block to the first cafe we find, whether Riley likes it or not, and I don't want to hear any complaints. Got it?"