“Anyway…that song. Shit, you can sing, darl—” He stops himself when Rafael’s head swivels in his direction. “Ellie.” Somehow, Rafael seems to hate him calling me Ellie more than darling. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear to give my hands something to do. “Thanks.” “Did you write that rendition of ‘Late Nights’ by yourself?” His question makes me freeze. “Why?”
