“You didn’t seem to care last season when they were running all your tape and talking about how you’re the next Ronnie Lott.”

“Yeah, well, a lot has changed since last season.”

“Like your relationship status?”

The words were like a slap to the face, and I actually jerked my head back at them, surprised to hear the quick reply from the girl I’d always seen as a wallflower.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she amended quickly, and just like that, the softness slipped over her again. Her voice was quieter, hesitant. “I know… well, I can imagine how difficult a breakup is, especially with your high school sweetheart.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

She leveled me with a look. “It’s my job to know. And it’s also my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy, Kitten?”

She deflated, sitting back in her chair. “Quick and painless, remember? We can be out of here after you finish that beer if you cooperate.”

I grumbled out an exhale, waving at her laptop and taking a long pull of my IPA while I waited for her to get out whatever she needed to.

“Ms. Banks has invited the reporter you refused to speak with back for Chart Day. She wants to give her an exclusive.” Giana’s eyes flicked to mine then. “I can leave you alone until then, if you promise to take these next couple of weeks to get your mind right and give a proper interview when she returns.”

“Leave me alone… as in?”

“As in, I won’t schedule any other media obligations. No interviews, no podcasts, not even a photo op until Chart Day.” She typed something on her computer. “And I know you don’t need coaching on how to act on camera. You’re one of the easiest for me to rely on when it comes to this.” She paused, fingers hovering over the keys as she glanced back at me, the white light of her screen reflecting on her face. “But I can tell you’re not okay. And I don’t want to add anything to your plate. So… does this sound like a fair deal?”

There was something about how she said it, that I’m not okay, that made my ribs tighten around my lungs.

I managed a nod.

“Good,” she said, but before she could go back to typing, she glanced over my shoulder at where the musician had started playing again.

And right on cue, she blushed.

I narrowed my gaze, watching her tear her eyes away and back to her computer before I slung my arm over the back of my chair and twisted so I could get a good look at this guy.