“Jessica.”

She flashed a sheet of smiley face stickers at him. “No talking, Sed.”

Funny how smiley face stickers were far more threatening than a roll of duct tape. Well, now what?

He followed her to the car, lost in thought. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to ask her to marry him today. Maybe the universe kept standing in his way for a reason. He climbed into the passenger side of the Mercedes and Jessica climbed behind the wheel. He gazed at her left ring finger, which was entirely too naked for his tastes. As far as he was concerned, the rest of her could stay permanently naked, but not that finger. That finger needed something material that proved to the world she was his. Eternally. Maybe he could get the ring on her while she drove, but her hand was all the way over there.

“I’d ask you what has you all introspective again,” Jessica said, glancing at him as she waited for the community’s security gate to open, “but you’re not supposed to talk. Will you write it?”

It’s just. He paused for a long moment, wondering what he should write. I love you.

She lifted his hand and pressed his knuckles to her lips. “And I love you.”

He grinned. Music to his ears.

Music.

That’s it. Her song. She needed to hear her song before he proposed. That’s what the universe was trying to tell him.

“And I love those dimples.”

He hated the damn things, but if they made her happy, he’d be sure to smile like a dipshit more often.

She dropped him off at the recording studio on her way to the library. “Do you want me to pick you up, or can one of the guys give you a ride home? I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”

I’ll get a ride, he wrote obediently.

She leaned across the car and kissed him. “I can’t wait until Friday. You better behave so I won’t have to cancel.”

He knew she was manipulating him, but when she slid her hand between his thighs, he didn’t much care. He couldn’t wait until Friday either.

When he entered the studio about thirty minutes later—he and Jessica had gotten a bit carried away in their good-bye kisses—Eric greeted him.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show up.” He nodded at the dry erase board in Sed’s hand. “What’s that for?”

Talking, he wrote.

“You don’t need to talk to play violin.”

Eric picked up a case from the floor and opened it. A jet black electric violin sat nestled in its confines.

“I’m not—” Sed’s throat protested and he winced. He switched to writing again. I’m not playing violin, Eric. Forget it.

“You know it’s all the screaming you do that destroyed your throat.”

“So?” he croaked. Some lackey thrust a bottle of water into his hand. He opened it and took a soothing/painful swallow. He was really wishing he’d stayed in bed with a supply of Popsicles and his personal nurse beside him.

“We need something to replace it.”

Sed blinked twice—no.

“Temporarily, at least. Even if you can sing, you know you’re not going to be able to scream for a while. And I know you don’t want to be the reason we have to cancel a bunch more shows.”

Did everyone know how to manipulate him? First Jess. Now Eric.

Eric’s slim black brows arched over his piercing blue eyes. “Try it?”

Fine.

Sed lifted a hand to block the sparkling white gleam produced by Eric’s wide smile, the gloater.

“Here,” Eric said, thrusting a stack of music at Sed. “I was up all night finding the exact pitch for every scream in our set.”

Every scream? That must have taken him hours. Sed nodded in appreciation, looking over the pages of music and the new additions to their songs in red ink. Well, at least he had something to do while the rest of them recorded. He’d need a lot of practice to pull this off onstage in a week. He’d kind of forgotten to mention that his violin playing sounded like distorted saw blades wrenching through scrap metal.

Brian poked his head out of the recording booth and beckoned Sed over with a wave. When Eric tried to follow Sed into the booth, Brian shoved him out and closed the door.

“Trey and I got to talking last night and we think you should propose to Jessica this Saturday onstage in San Francisco. During the break, you can sing that song you wrote for her. Trey and I have some great acoustic guitar music worked out for it.”

Sed scratched his head in confusion. Why was Brian so insistent on him proposing to Jessica?

I do want to sing her the song, but why do I need to do it onstage?

Brian read the message and smiled. “She’ll love it. Remember how happy she was the first time you proposed publicly? And you didn’t even sing to her that time.”

“Come on, Sed,” Trey said, leaning against the door to keep Eric, who was banging into it repeatedly outside the booth.

I’ll think about it. The “slip the ring on her finger while she wasn’t looking” idea was still his favorite option.

“Well, don’t take too long to decide. We’ve only got a week to prepare.”

Yeah, okay, whatever.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Sed rasped, his annoyance level increasing enough to prompt speech. Why had he refused pain meds again? It’s not like he’d fall into Trey’s pattern of addiction. And he could really use a reprieve from this agony.

“Don’t mention it to Eric,” Brian whispered. “You know he can’t keep a secret.”

Sed nodded. That was true.

“Will you just let me in?” Eric yelled.

Trey moved away from the door and Eric burst into the booth.

“Oh,” Trey said, “were you trying to get in?”

“What are you guys doing in here?” Eric asked suspiciously.

“Nothing that you need to worry about,” Brian said with a wicked smile.

Chapter 50

Even though Sed’s doctor had given him the okay to talk normally and to sing at Sinners’ concert the next night, Jessica insisted he keep writing on his dry erase board to save his voice for the concert. His throat was perfectly fine. Mostly.

They were in the car on their way to her surprise destination and she was still threatening him with canceling their trip. He continued to obey her, but once they were there, all bets were off. He was tired of writing on this stupid f**king board.

Where are we going? Sed wrote on the board.

“It’s a surprise.”