She bit the insides of her cheeks. Willow wasn’t her boyfriend, she’d done nothing wrong. So why did it feel like she had? “We’re talking a bit. I told you that I really wanted to get on his tour.”

Willow folded his massive arms across his chest. “I asked if you liked honesty. I like it too, okay?”

“Okay...”

“So be straight with me. Is us becoming a couple gonna be a problem?”

“What kind of problem?”

He sighed. “I can make us being together look legit and I can make people go apeshit for you, but not if you’re out there hooking up with other guys.”

“Oh. You want us to be… like, exclusive?”

“I think it makes sense for as long as we’re together. But if you want a shot with Francis…” His jaw jutted. “… I should walk before I do something stupid.”

“No!”

Willow blinked. “No?”

“I’m happy to be with you. Monogamous,” she said, her words tumbling out like rocks. “It makes sense. It would look bad otherwise. And me and Francis…”

“You and Francis?”

How to explain? She’d run into Francis at a gig two nights ago. He’d shaken off his entourage and made a beeline for her. They’d talked music for half an hour and all the while she’d felt nothing. No, not nothing, a pang of weird guilt that someone would see her and tell Willow. That he’d give her the same jealous scrunchy face he was giving her now. God, this was all so stupid and complicated. She stabbed one of her potatoes, hating everything.

“Eden?”

“Francis is an important person to know,” she told him. “We run in the same circles, and I have to talk to him. Especially when we’re negotiating a tour.”

“Okay. I can respect that.”

Eden, who’d expected him to say ‘go fuck yourself’, was taken aback. “Can you?”

“Of course.” His smile was kind. “How about ten weeks?”

“Huh?”

“For us to be together. Ten weeks. An official date once a week and minor stuff whenever we can fit it into our schedules. That way we’ll wrap up right before you go on tour, right?”

Eden considered it. “I think so.”

“Do we have a deal?”

She licked her lower lip. “What about sex?”

“Whenever I’m not actively on TV, I’m yours.”

She smiled. “I know you’re busy.”

“I am. But I’m flexible.” He held out a hand. “We on?”