“Hey, guys,” I said, setting down my stuff. “They lucked out. This weather is amazing.”
Kelly mumbled in what I assumed was agreement.
I snuck a glance at Mark. “So, Kel…how are your mom and dad doing?”
“They’re fine,” she said.
“Your dad’s knee?”
“Good as new.”
“And your mom?”
“She’s fine.”
I was fighting a losing battle. Mark shot me a sympathetic smile.
My phone buzzed just as I’d shoved a mound of cake in my mouth. “My goodness. This is getting…” I swallowed and sent a quick message back, telling my patient I’d call in a few minutes. “Have you guys heard about this virus going around?”
“A little bit,” Mark said.
“As far as we know, it hasn’t actually made its way to the United States yet, and, as far as I know, it’s not super transmissible,” I said, “but all my patients think they’re going to be the first case.”
“Maybe they will be,” Kelly said. “I suppose it’s possible.”
Okay, that was a tiny, little opening. I’d take it.
“How’s everything else going, you guys?” I said. “The wine shop, the real estate…?”
“Good,” Kelly said.
“Kelly just made her first big sale,” Mark said.
“Awesome! Congratulations! I knew you’d jump right in and be as badass in Galena as you were in Chicago.”
She shot me a smile. “Thanks. How about you? How’s…your love life?”
I laughed. “Actually, there has been a bit of a development on that front,” I said, shrugging. “Dax and I are together.”
Kelly laughed. “What? Really?”
That was…? Was she making fun of me? I could no longer tell. We were so out of sync, I’d lost my ability to read her. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No…” Kelly looked right at Mark. “Dax lives in Annie’s basement. He was that bartender from the trivia night…”
“Oh yeah.” Mark smiled kindly, which was more than I could say for his fiancée. “He seemed very nice.”
“He is.” I frowned at Kelly.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I mean it. I’m sorry. I’m just confused. I thought you were looking to settle down. I’m surprised you’re dating a twenty-five-year-old bartender.”
“He’s twenty-seven.”
She took a swig of water. “I actually love this for you,” she said, turning to Mark. “Annie’s never really dated much—”
“Yes, I have.” My jaw tightened. I was getting really tired of people feeling like they had license to comment on my love life.
“Well, first dates. Annie has gone on a lot of first dates.” She paused. “It’s nice to see you’re having fun. That’s all.”
“It’s more than fun,” I said. “Dax and I are serious.”
Kelly smiled. “Of course you are. You’re so scared of being alone that you invited a random dude to live in your basement, and now you’ve convinced yourself dating him is a good idea in an attempt to keep him there.”
“Whoa. That escalated quickly. It’s not like that,” I said. “You make me sound like a—”
“Like the kind of person who’d pursue a relationship with her mom’s next-door neighbor even though she’s not even attracted to him?”
My mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You were one of the ones telling me to go for it with Rob!”
Mark, apparently trying and failing to redirect the conversation, said, “Isn’t Dax trying to be an actor or something?”
“He’s a musician,” I said. “And the band is doing really well.” I stood, grabbing my cake plate. I couldn’t take this anymore. “I have to get going, actually, because he has a big concert tonight.”
Kelly laughed. “Okay. Have fun in the mosh pit, Annie!”
I rushed toward the gate, shooting Yessi an “I’m sorry” look on the way, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know if Polly’s theory that Kelly was trying to push me away held any water, but, regardless, that’s what she had done. It was official. I’d lost my best friend.
Chapter Forty
Thundercat Hoes
That night, without the benefit of Darius’s VIP status, I ordered a car and headed to Dax’s concert, which was in some neighborhood I hadn’t been to since my twenties, Kelly’s mosh pit comment ringing in my ears. Well, she could suck it up. I, Dr. Annie Kyle, was going to a concert to watch my hot young boyfriend play keyboard in his band, and I was proud of it.
And I was so not in this with Dax because I was scared of being alone. If that were the case, I would’ve already married Rob at City Hall or something. She had no idea what she was talking about.
I showed my ticket at the door and went in to try and find a good seat. But there were no seats. This venue was standing room only.
Fine. No big deal. I didn’t mind standing. I stood practically all day at work. I was here to see Dax perform in the biggest concert of his life—so far. There would be many big concerts in his future, I was sure. And I was here to enjoy myself.
I went up to the bar to order a drink, and I smiled at the woman next to me—who was much closer to Dax’s age than mine. “You like Farouche?” I asked.
“They’re hot.” She turned her attention to her phone.
Okay then. I grabbed my drink and made my way through the crowd of people all dressed up like they were going to, well, a show. I’d put on jeans, my black Converse, and a Lilith Fair T-shirt I still had from my freshman year of high school. The way I looked, I could be going to the grocery store.
One of those sinking feelings started to creep in. Dax would someday realize—possibly sooner rather than later—that I didn’t fit in here. No, I couldn’t think that way. Dax and I were doing great. We were very happy together, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know what a huge old nerd I was. Sipping my drink, I tried to blend in near a pole and watched the stage as some guys in black tested the sound.
I texted Dax. Hey! I’m here! I sent him a smiley face to show him how excited I was. And I was excited for him and to see his band play again.
He wrote back, You should come backstage.
He’d told me right from the start that I should come with him, to hang out with him and the band before the concert, but I didn’t want to get in the way. This was their night—their big moment—and I wanted Dax to enjoy it with the people who got him here. We’d celebrate in our own way later.
You guys have fun and break all your legs. I’m going to stay out here with the real Farouche fans.
He clicked the love button on that text.
Next to me, a group of fans was talking about the band. I, pretending to find an article about the mating rituals of gophers fascinating, listened in.
“The lead singer is hot, but the keyboardist is hotter.”
This guy and I were in agreement on that.
“I don’t think any of them are hot,” said another. Boo! Hiss! “But Farouche are, like, serious musicians. I have to respect that.” Okay, this girl wasn’t so bad.
Maybe dating a musician would be fun. Yes, it was something totally out of my comfort zone, but that was a good thing. I was thirty-nine, not dead, and should be willing to give new things a try. I just had to relax into it, enjoy the show, tolerate the crowds, and be a little less forty.
Easier said than done, my brain was helpful to remind me. I had a good decade on everyone in this club.
Still, I would fake it till I made it. For Dax. For us.
One patient text and two articles about this annoying new virus later, Farouche finally came out onstage. The crowd went wild. I shoved my phone into my back pocket and cheered along with them. “Woo!” I yelled. “Woo!” When in Rome, woo.
Like the la
st Farouche concert I attended, the drummer counted the band off, and they launched into a song that had since become familiar. I sang along and shimmied in time to the tune. Okay, maybe this would be fun. The group next to me, the ones who’d been talking about Farouche earlier, beckoned me to join them.
“You know all the songs!” one of them shouted.
“I think they sunk in!” I pointed to the stage. “The keyboardist lives in my basement.”
The guy’s eyes lit up. “What? Really?”
“Yeah!” I bit my lip and scrunched up my nose. “He’s my boyfriend.” My cheeks pulled into a big smile. If I looked in a mirror, I knew I’d see an image like Darius when he was with Monica Feathers. I probably looked like a dork.
The guy appraised me, hands on hips. “I love that he’s dating an older woman,” he said finally.
I shot him a thumbs-up. I’d take that at face value. I was, in fact, an older woman. We were all here having fun tonight, celebrating our mutual admiration for a very talented band. The guy hadn’t meant anything by it.
A few songs in, the band slowed things down, and Dax leaned into the microphone. “Tonight, someone’s here who’s really special to me.”
“Ooh!” My new Farouche friends nudged me in the side, and I giggled.
Dax squinted out at the crowd. “Annie, this one’s for you.”
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I reached behind me and turned off the ringer. Probably just another question about that virus. I should’ve created an auto-response earlier that said, You don’t have it. Anyway, I could get back to them after the concert. I’d ruined my relationship with Kelly partially because half my attention was always on my phone, either answering it or waiting for it to ring. I wouldn’t make the same mistake with Dax. Tonight belonged to him, and I would do my part to support him.
The guitarist started playing, and then Dax came in on the keyboard and Kat on bass. Dax, his eyes lowered and dark, sang, “When you walked into the bar/I wasn’t thinking so far/ahead…”
My hands went instinctively to my chest. I could feel my heart beating, thumping. My eyes watered. I’d never had anyone write anything personal about me, and the fact that it was Dax—beautiful, talented Dax—
“You shocked me/you surprised me/you truly recognized me!” And then they launched into the pulsing, soaring chorus. “Dorothy!”
I burst out laughing as I swayed in time to the music.
“You are at the end of my rainbow! Dorothy!”
I waved my hands in the air like I just did not care.
“I thought your name was Annie,” said one of my new friends.
“Yup,” I said. “It’s also Dorothy.” Dax’s eyes met mine, and I waved.
He winked at me, and suddenly my stomach hurtled toward the floor. Instead of living in the moment, excited and moved that this gorgeous, talented man had written a song about me, my brain took it to a place of despair and fear, imagining the day, someday soon, when he’d leave me for good. Chills snaked up and down my spine as I pictured myself alone in the house without him, pacing the floor, looking for something to do, anything to distract me from the pain. The image overwhelmed me. I couldn’t bear it. Being with Dax would mean hurtling head-first toward my worst nightmare.
Shit. What was I doing?
My phone buzzed again, and I instinctively grabbed it, grateful for the diversion, ready to text the person back with advice about fever reduction and drinking fluids, to deal with some solvable problem I knew I could handle. But it wasn’t just a flu question.
Gayle Gale was unconscious.
Chapter Forty-One
Geek Tragedy
I dragged myself home from the hospital later that night and walked inside to find Dax waiting for me in the front hallway. “Annie,” he said, “where have you been?”
I shook my head, numb, and he pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back. I stiffened, and he pulled away, holding me at arm’s length. “What? What’s going on?” He let me go.
I set my purse down on the floor and paced the room. My mind was in a fog. This night had been such a rollercoaster. “I was at the concert, dancing and having fun, letting myself go—”
He smiled. “I saw you hanging out with some people in the crowd.”
“But when you started singing the ‘Annie’ song, I could feel my phone buzzing.” I patted my back pocket, replaying the incident in my mind. “I thought, ‘I’m not going to check it. I’m going to keep dancing, and I’m going to enjoy my night and be here for Dax.’” My eyes felt dry. I’d cried at the hospital and all the way back home in the car, but now…nothing.
“Annie? You’re scaring me,” Dax said. “What happened?”
“Gayle Gale died.”
His hand went to his mouth. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
He reached for me, but I moved away and pulled my phone from my pocket. I held it in my hand like some unrecognizable object I had no use for. “Her husband texted me to come. I felt the buzzing in my pocket from the message, and I was going to ignore it. I thought it was just some person with a regular question, but it wasn’t.”
I didn’t tell him that the only reason I even checked the text was because I’d been in a panic about eventually losing him. He didn’t need to know that.
“What happened?”
I shook my head, playing through what Gayle and Jim had experienced, even though I hadn’t been there for most of it. “Another stroke. A blood vessel just burst. I talked to Jim while the paramedics were on their way, but she was already gone by the time they got there.”
I’d met them at the hospital, where she’d already been pronounced dead, and I stayed with Jim for a while to help him through the paperwork and everything. We talked about the amazing woman she was as much as the retirement Gayle would never have.
Jim’s daughter, who lived out in the suburbs, arrived just as I was leaving. He told her, “I’m glad you’re here. I…I don’t want to be alone.”
God, I felt that in my bones.
“Annie, I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” Dax said now.
“I wasn’t going to check the phone,” I added. “I let it buzz a few times before I looked at it; I was going to ignore any calls that came in during the concert.”
“I get it, but I never asked you to do that,” he said. “And, in this instance, it sounds like there wasn’t anything you could have done.”
“But what if it had been a different call where my quick response could’ve made a difference?” I bit my lip.
“You can’t play the what-if game,” he said. “And here’s the thing—I understand how demanding your job is, believe me. I don’t want you to ever feel bad about putting your patients first. Take the call if you need to take the call.”
“But I do feel bad. I will feel bad. I worry you’ll start to resent me—”
“No.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Annie, no. I want this to work out; I really do.”
I smiled at him, pushing through the sadness and that persistent image of me alone. He was right. He hadn’t asked me to turn off the phone or ignore my patients for him. That was all me. I’d been feeling insecure since Kelly, and I was starting to question everything. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just sad about Gayle.” And the demise of one of my oldest friendships and the fact that no matter what, I’d never be able to give 100 percent to a relationship. My job didn’t allow for that.
“You want to hear some good news?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I followed him toward the kitchen, where he poured me a glass of white wine and handed it to me.
“The concert went really well tonight.”
I grinned. “It really did. You guys crushed it. So many broken legs on that stage.”
“It went so well…” He swallowed as if gathering his nerve. “Monica Feathers wants us to go on tour with
her. In Europe. Apparently they really ‘get’ her there. Another band dropped out, and she needed to replace them quickly.” He smiled. “We were in the right place at the right time.”
All the blood drained from my face. “Wow,” I said as happily as possible. “That’s…amazing.”
“It’s…not forever,” he said, clutching my hands in his. “It’s a temporary thing. But we’re leaving in less than two weeks for at least six months, and she did mention something about recording an album at some chalet in France with her afterward…” He waved his hand. “But I’m sure that was all empty promises. You know how people talk, making plans that will never happen.”
I touched my forehead. Holy…this was it. This was the nightmare scenario. Dax and I were just getting started, and now we were ending. Already. My dread had not been premature. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
He grabbed the wineglass from my hand and walked me over to the couch. “Here. Come sit down. It’s been a rough day, and that was a lot of information I just threw at you. I should’ve waited. I’m sorry.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes, focusing on the black and red colors behind my eyelids.
“I hope you know,” he was saying as he rummaged around behind me, “I don’t expect this tour to change things. I mean, maybe you can actually take some time off to come see us play, or I can talk to Monica about cutting the tour short or recording the album back here in Chicago instead. I’m all in on us, Annie, and I hope—”
He stopped talking. I sat up and turned around. He was in the hallway with his hand in my purse. Oh no. No, no, no.
I jumped off the couch and rushed to him, my heart pounding in my chest.
He stood. “I was getting you something for your headache. You said you always have ibuprofen.” He opened his palm, and there were the two gleaming diamond rings.
“Dax, I can explain. I—”
“What is this?” he asked. “You took their rings.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t take them. They gave them to me. I was just being polite, you know, giving them the brush-off. Like, ‘Sure, fine, I’ll hold on to it, if it means you’ll leave me alone.’”
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