Fitz grinned, revealing his dimple. “I figured. Don’t worry about it. If I’m honest, sometimes I don’t like our music either.”
His confession baffled her.
“Why not? Don’t you write it all yourself?” she asked.
“Charlie and I co-write everything. Our early stuff resembled your tastes, but it wasn’t what the people wanted. We changed our direction for this album, and it paid off.”
Charlie overheard and said, “Don’t be modest! We collaborated on a few songs, but you wrote the majority on your own.”
“Impressive,” Lizzie said, sipping her coffee.
“He’s an even better songwriter than he is a singer,” Charlie said. “If only I could make him comfortable with screaming fans.” He laughed when Fitz made a face. “Get used to it. It’s your own fault for being so talented and good looking.”
“Whic
