by Taryn Belle
Kiki pulled the phone away from her ear and then replaced it. “Nice to hear from you, too, Nic.”
“This isn’t a hangout girlie call, okay? Alex just got off the phone with Dev. He’s seriously devastated, Kiki. Do you know how often Dev calls his brother for advice? Exactly never. Well, I guess you can make that once now.”
Kiki’s heart skipped a beat as she ducked out of her bunk. If she was going to have this conversation, she needed at least a little privacy. She made her way down the steps and across the lounge, ignoring the eyes that followed her. She let the door shut behind her as she stepped down to the parking lot. The October evening air felt refrigerated. Kiki pulled her cardigan around her as she tried to come up with a snappy response to her friend’s admonishment, but her mind stayed blank. It seemed that the most devastating experience of her life had a way of locking her wit away. “Thanks for letting me know, but I really—”
“Don’t want to talk about it?” Nicola interrupted. “What a surprise. For someone who never seems to run out of shit to say, you have a funny way of keeping all the stuff that really matters to yourself.”
Kiki’s mouth fell open. Of the two women, Kiki was the one with the edge. Nicola was softer and more laid-back, but right now their roles felt firmly reversed—and Kiki didn’t like it one bit. “What the hell would you know?” she blasted back. “I made a mistake and slept with him again—so sue me. I finally came to my senses, okay? Like I said before, the last thing I need is to get involved with someone like Dev.”
“‘Someone like Dev’?” Nicola mocked, sounding pissed off enough to spit. “Please. If Dev hasn’t proven to you he’s a changed man, then it’s only because you’re purposely not seeing it. Don’t forget how long I’ve known you, Kiki. You might want to think you’re all about the one-nighters, but you want the real deal. You never would have gotten married if you didn’t. Hell, you never would have let Dev into your bed again if you didn’t. So what’s the big secret, Kiki? Why would you send the man of your dreams packing right after he admitted he saw a future with you?”
Kiki swallowed hard. “Dev told Alex that?”
“Yes, you dimwit! He told him about the interview, and about how you walked away without giving him one good reason why. And—and I’m not even supposed to be calling you, but I crossed my fingers behind my back when I told Alex I wouldn’t. Because as your best friend, I’m not going to sit around watching while you throw away the best relationship you’ve ever had!”
“Oh, my God, it was not a relationship! We’ve just been hanging out—”
“Hanging out? Would you do me a favor and listen to yourself? Get real, honey—you’ve been hot for each other since August, and whatever’s transpired between you two over there doesn’t get to be labeled as hanging out. It’s a lot more than that and you know it. Dev knows it. So I’ll ask you again—what’s the big fucking secret?”
Kiki’s shoulders slumped as she stopped her pacing in front of the bus. An overhead lamp shone a yellow pool of light on the ground, so she sank down in the middle of it. The pavement was cold on her backside, but she didn’t care. It matched her mood. It reminded her of the way her blood had frozen in her veins when Jack told her he was leaving her. And now she’d spent over two years keeping the reason to herself, and the tumor of resentment and disappointment had barely shrunk in size. “You asked me why Jack left me,” Kiki started, her voice catching. “Well, it’s the same reason any man would leave me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re amazing and Jack was an asshole. Whatever happened with him has given you a warped view of reality.”
Kiki squeezed her eyes shut. Outside of her father, she’d never told another soul what she was about to say. “Nic. Do you remember that time I went to New York for a job interview?”
There was a beat of silence. “Right. Didn’t I say something about you not seeming very excited about it?”
“Yeah. Because I wasn’t really going there for that.” Kiki took a deep breath. “I went there to meet with a fertility specialist. The best one in the country, Jack and I were told. Back then, I still had hope that they could find out what was wrong with me. Or fix it.”
Nicola inhaled sharply. “Oh, sweetie. So you were—”
“Trying to get pregnant, yes,” Kiki pressed on, knowing that if she stopped too long she’d lose her nerve. The reality was that her story could be summed up in a few sad sentences, but now she felt the sudden urge to spill the details to her friend. “For two years we tried, and nothing. At first Jack was worried it was him, so he got tested. Everything came back fine, so I was next. It didn’t take much to find out there was something very wrong with me, but it took over a year to get in to see the specialist. Jack was so supportive—he kept saying we’d figure it out. He even said he was okay with not becoming a father if that’s what it came down to. I thanked my lucky stars every day to have such an amazing husband. But I guess that was when he still believed I could get pregnant somehow.” Kiki paused, waiting for Nicola to throw in a comforting word, but she stayed silent. Just listening as the best of friends did, just waiting for Kiki to release the beast on her that she must have known was coming.
“Anovulation due to premature ovarian failure—that was my diagnosis. They prescribed Clomid. I tried it for a while and then moved on to other drugs. Nothing worked. There was some hope that they could still use my eggs for IVF, but that was eliminated, too.” She fell silent at the memory of that last thread being cut; she’d spent nearly a week on the sofa afterward, comforting herself with cookies and Hallmark TV specials...while Jack suddenly found the need to work overtime. “I think the worst part of it was... I talked to my father about it. He told me my mother had had fertility problems, too, and that she had to get a hysterectomy after she had me. But she still left me! So there I was, trying to have something she hadn’t even ended up wanting, and it just brought it all home to me in the worst way.”
“I...oh, my God,” Nic said. “There are no words, except that I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea.”
Kiki shook her head. “Nobody did because that’s how I wanted it. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t going to tell anyone anything until I was too pregnant to deny it. And Jack...” She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t blame him, you know. He just wanted to be a dad, and he didn’t want that to happen with anyone’s DNA but his wife’s. And I was awful to him. Since I was so determined not to let the rest of the world see my pain, I just took it out on him. I guess I always thought that someday we’d get back to where we were after a baby came, but that never happened.”
“He should have stuck with you. A real man—”
Kiki held up a hand, as if Nicola could see it. “No. It’s better this way. When you’ve been through something like that with someone, you see things in each other that you can’t unsee. And in a way, walking away lets you erase those ugly parts of yourself.”
Kiki could almost hear Nicola considering her words. “Still, he abandoned you. Just like your mother did. And now—now you leave before anyone else can leave you. Before Dev could leave you.”
Kiki heaved a sigh. Her phone was hot against her cheek now, not to mention wet from her tears. “Look. Don’t get me wrong, Nic, I’m glad I finally told you all of this. But my phone is about to burn a brain tumor into my head, and I really don’t feel like being psychoanalyzed right now.”
“I get it. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just...” Kiki hesitated, hating the admission she was about to make.
“Yes?”
“I knew, Nic. I watched an interview with him on YouTube after the first night I slept with him. And he said it right there—that he’d always been a family man at heart and couldn’t wait to have kids. And I still—”
“Kiki, get a grip. So you lusted after the guy—you didn’t know it would get serious!”
She sighed. “That sounds fine on pape
r, but that’s not how it was. I did know. I knew from the moment I kissed him again that I was in for the long haul. I started imagining a future with him that very night. And I didn’t say anything to him about my...” She trailed off. Infertility. The word was too ugly.
“You need to stop beating yourself up, honey,” Nicola said. “Remember that Dev isn’t Jack. Even if he might have told some journalist he wants a family, it might not be as much of a sticking point for him as you think. And there’s always adoption—”
“Sure. Which is a huge compromise to your own flesh and blood, not to mention years of waiting and—”
“Would you stop? Let Dev decide what he wants—don’t decide for him before you’ve even given him a chance. Opening up to me was a huge step for you, but I’m not the one who counts. You can’t move forward with your life if you don’t tell him the truth.”
“Sure,” Kiki said unconvincingly. “What you said.”
“I mean it. And I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
There. I told someone, and I don’t feel any better, Kiki thought after she hung up.
But maybe that wasn’t entirely true. She could feel relief creeping through her body, but it was blended with a strange sense of recklessness. Opening her hand, she let her phone drop facedown on the pavement. Then she picked it up again and examined the screen, almost hoping it was cracked.
What is that all about? she wondered. Was she looking for somewhere to redirect her pain? Was an inanimate object supposed to represent her hopeless, throw-in-the-towel attitude? Was she testing how far she could go before something important to her broke? Was she really that self-sabotaging? And was it just Nicola’s attempt to counsel her that had her thinking this way, or was she actually taking the first step toward dealing with a huge issue in her life?
She rubbed a sleeve over the screen to polish her fingerprints off. In the darkness, her face was barely reflected back at her. No cracks. Despite her best efforts at damage, both she and her iPhone remained intact.
Completely drained, she stood up and went back into her bus.
* * *
Shut away in his dressing room, Dev glanced at the clock as he paced the floor. It was fifty minutes until showtime, and he desperately needed...something. If not a solution to the nightmare raging through his head, then at least a distraction from it.
He’d tried having a conversation with his brother about Kiki, and even though Alex had said all the right things, it hadn’t brought her back to him. Nothing would, as far as Dev knew, and the raw emptiness of that bare fact chewed at him, practically screamed at him to fill it. But a drink was out of the question, as were a full dose of his meds. He’d made that promise to himself last night, when Kiki had told him about her mother’s suspected drug habit. Up until then he’d felt guilty enough keeping his pills a secret while Kiki was staying with him on his bus, but her admission had forced his hand. She might be done with him for now, but if she ever came back to him, he didn’t want her discovering something about him that would drag her back into her painful past. Tonight, knowing that quitting Xanax cold turkey could lead to hallucinations or seizures, he’d taken only half his dosage—and now he was paying the price. With less than an hour to go until showtime, he had no idea how he was going to calm himself the fuck down enough to get on that stage. His hands were visibly trembling. His mouth was cotton dry and his underarms were sweaty. He felt like a man tied to a palm tree on the beach, watching helplessly as a tidal wave closed in on him. Sure as shit, it was going to crush him as easily as a sand castle.
Dropping down on the sofa, Dev rolled his head from side to side a few times and shook his hands out. Inhaled through his nose. Closed his eyes. Tried to blank out his mind. If he’d had to name what he was doing, he might have called it desperation meditation. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried holistic methods to control his panic button. He’d worked with a naturalist several years ago who, after signing a Bible-thick nondisclosure agreement, had suggested meditation, daily exercise, chamomile tea, aromatherapy, breath control, herbal supplements, nature walks, buying a dog and watching a list of TED Talks on the topic.
None of it had worked. Only one thing had ever eased Dev’s anxiety, and it came straight out of a medical manufacturing plant. But now more than ever, the idea of giving in to his little helpers filled him with shame.
A knock sounded at the door. It had to be Bix, who always checked in on him before showtime. Dev didn’t feel like seeing anyone right now, but he knew his manager would just come barging in if he didn’t answer. He pulled the door open and froze.
It was Kiki, looking extra tiny in a gray cardigan that nearly swallowed her. Her hair was scraped back into a loose bun and her face looked weary, but the sight of her was like an oasis to Dev. Familiar, beautiful, calm. The love of his fucking life, if he were completely honest with himself.
His heart leaped hopefully until he saw her expression. Distant and aloof, not much different from when he’d told Petra he wanted a family.
She stood at the doorway instead of stepping into the room. “Sorry to bother you, but you didn’t answer my text about Prague tomorrow.”
Work talk. He felt like puking. “My mind isn’t exactly on work right now.”
“Mine, either, but I still have a job to do. I need to know if I’m going with you.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “As my assistant, or as the woman who just gutted me?”
She drew herself up. “As your assistant. Attending charity events is part of my job description. If you’d rather I didn’t, then it’s probably best for both of us if I move on. I could help you find a replacement.”
Dev stared at her. How could she be so goddamned impersonal right now? Because he was the emotional one in this ex-relationship, that was how. Kiki was the one who could bury her feelings and deny her attachments. Her mother’s abandonment of her had prepared her well for that. He suddenly felt furious at the woman he’d never met. She’d made Kiki like this out of necessity, and because of that, she was pushing away the man who worshipped her. Who would do anything for her, who could have made her happy for all time.
Dev shook his head. The sight of her had him coming apart in pieces he wasn’t sure would ever fit together properly again, and that wasn’t something he could afford. He needed to straighten his head out, which wasn’t going to happen with her in the room. “I’m about to do a show, and I am exhausted. Do what you want, Kiki. I’ll see you when I see you.”
She stepped back as if she’d been stung, and the surge of regret he felt when he closed the door was worse than any beating he could have imagined. But screw it. She was done with him, and he had a show he had to do.
He walked over to the dressing table, grabbed up the Xanax bottle and knocked a second tablet back with a fierce shake of his head.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JUST ONE HOUR, Dev thought as he followed two foundation organizers through the doors of Prague’s Motol University Hospital. I can put on a smile for that long. He stepped into the elevator, and one of the organizers pressed the button to the third floor.
Dev hadn’t slept. His stomach was churning worse than it did before any performance, but that couldn’t matter right now. The only thing that was allowed to matter was the nine-year-old boy he was about to meet. This was both the best and the worst part of his job: the children who decided that meeting him was their dying wish. The request had come in a week ago, and even though it had meant sacrificing his day off, Dev hadn’t hesitated to accept it. He’d never declined one. But he’d also never had to spend an hour beforehand in a private plane with the woman who’d led him down the garden path of sweet fucking possibility and then dropped him for a reason she didn’t even have the decency to share with him.
She’d been there waiting in his limo this morning, busying herself with her laptop so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Th
e plane ride hadn’t been much different, with him burying himself in the lyrics of a song he was working on to avoid eye contact with her. It had been excruciating, and to top it all off he was furious with himself for caving to his meds last night. By the time they landed in Prague, he’d had enough. He’d stalked off the plane before Kiki had even risen from her seat, telling himself he didn’t care whether she followed. Let her stay here waiting for me. Let her feel some of the gutting rejection I’m feeling, he’d thought, as if that could dislodge the Pluto-sized ball of pain sitting in his chest.
But right now it was time for Dev to focus on someone who actually deserved his attention. As he stepped off the elevator, he blocked all thoughts of Kiki from his head to prepare for the task ahead. He had been briefed by the foundation organizers on the ride from the airport to the hospital. Konrad Novak had terminal brain cancer. He’d been diagnosed two years ago, in and out of hospitals ever since and currently in hospice care, not expected to live for more than another four weeks. Knowing how much he loved Dev’s music, months ago his parents had bought him tickets for the Milan concert, but he hadn’t been able to attend. On a hope and a prayer, they’d reached out to the foundation that granted wishes to terminal children on the off chance Dev might be able to make a personal appearance.
Room 318. Dev stopped in front of the door. It was only then he realized that in his rush to escape Kiki, he’d forgotten his guitar.
* * *
Looking through the window from the visitors lounge to the third-floor corridor, Kiki placed her hand on the door, but she didn’t push it open. Her heart was racing, and it had been since the moment Dev had walked off the airplane and left her in his wake. She knew she deserved it—she’d been as standoffish with him as a stranger for the entire flight. Last night when she’d shown up in his dressing room, she’d told herself she would open up to him if he seemed receptive to her. He hadn’t, of course, and as she’d walked away she’d had to fully face the cop-out she was. Walking in on him right before a show, gauging his reaction to her when she deserved absolutely nothing from him, expecting him to lay his heart out yet again when he’d already done so, so painfully—it was despicable and cowardly of her.