Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
He leaves, and I sit with my own thoughts—but not for long. I do need to get to work.
And maybe there I can figure out the next steps.
* * *
Once I open the door and walk into Dog Tails, the answer is right before my eyes.
In the dogs.
In the pack mentality.
In the plans we have for tonight.
And in all my employees who turn to me and greet me like I’m—weirdly—their friend as well as their boss.
That’s new for me.
But maybe it’s not as uncomfortable as I’d once thought it would be.
Because if it takes a team to run this place, maybe a team is what I need to win back my woman.
She’s not here today, so even though this goes against my Virgo nature, it’s time for me to bend. To color outside the lines. To make a change.
I clear my throat and say, “I need your help. There’s a woman I need to fix things with. Who’s in?”
Every hand goes up.
39
THE HIGH NOTES
CHLOE
The house is packed. The lights are dimmed. From stage right, I play a few notes of a Gershwin medley as Saffron strides toward the apron to mega applause. The spotlight above illuminates her, and she looks stunning in a silver dress that hugs to her curves. Her brunette hair falls in long, lush waves.
“Welcome to the Darling Springs Community Cabaret Theater Fundraiser,” she says. “We’re so thrilled you’re here, and we’re thrilled to be raising money for science research. Here’s what I’d like science to research—how can firefighters be so hot and sing at the same time? Let’s research that now as the a cappella group The Hot Shots kicks off the night.”
I finish the Gershwin tune, then take a breath.
I focus on The Hot Shots as they perform “I’m on Fire,” swaying onstage in a doo-wop manner to the sexy song. I focus on them—not on how I couldn’t stop thinking about Sawyer the last time I watched them rehearse this number.
When they leave to cheers and invitations to meet up later, Saffron strides back onstage, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here or what?”
I return to the Gershwin, playing interlude music in my simple black evening dress—long and silky, hitting at the knees—as she talks more about the mission and how important science is for all communities—including arts communities—and how we can come together to support research for all.
“And we should do it nonstop,” she says, which leads into Josiah singing a Nirvana tune.
Next, we roll through Delilah’s take on “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones, then my dad and his boyfriend perform “Dancing Through Life” as they sing in dapper leisure suits about how life is more painless when you’re brainless. When they leave, a troupe of shirtless men twirling umbrellas—Angelo’s cousins—strides onstage singing “It’s Raining Men.”
And I tap out that tune too, then slide into “It Don’t Mean a Thing” as Linus the mayor tap-dances his way into the spotlight, wearing a fedora. He’s adorable, and the whole set list is feeding my soul, making me think…maybe I can talk to Sawyer later.
But later. First, I need to make it through our number.
I play the piano for a few more songs, including Salma doing “The Man” by Taylor Swift and Esmeralda singing Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love.”
It’s almost time for ours.
My heart beats faster. Nerves rise. But I steel myself. I can handle this. I can dance with him for thirty seconds, then finish the show.
It’ll be fine. Totally fine.
Besides, I need to focus on backing up my mom and Angelo. Mom is dressed to the nines tonight in a plum-colored sequined dress that shows off her strong arms, and after Saffron’s intro, she comes onstage belting Dolly’s lines in the iconic duet, while Angelo, done up in tails and a tux, strides toward her, crooning Kenny’s parts.
He’s so enchanted with her, it’s infectious—and it makes me so happy for her.
But as we near the end of the song, my eyes pop—Angelo gets down on one knee and stops singing.
“Marry me, Karenina. You’re the love of my life,” he says in front of the whole town.
Oh god.
Poor Angelo.
He’s already asked her twice.
But she flings her arms around him and says, “Third time’s a charm.”
My heart’s lodged in my throat as I tap out a few notes of “Here Comes the Bride” impromptu, then return to their song, letting them finish it before heading offstage arm-in-arm.
When they leave, I draw a deep breath, trying to reset my nerves as Saffron comes back onstage to introduce the closing act.
“And now, here’s our newest Darling Springs business owner—Sawyer Dumont. And it turns out Mister Serious Boss can sing,” she says.
And that’s not what was in the script when we rehearsed—Mister Serious Boss?
She never said that.
But I guess she’s ad-libbing.
And I now have two-thirds of a song to get ready to dance like my heart isn’t shattered into pieces.