Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(19)

“You deserve it, hon. No one is trying to take it away from you.”

“Your mom did.”

“And I told you not to tell her, didn’t I?”

“It just kind of came out.”

Yep. She’d cracked. This might have actually been a new record. “As I knew it would. Anyway, there’s no being sad tomorrow, either. Tomorrow is our day.” Savannah eyed the inside of her overnight bag critically. Their flight left in three hours, and she was pretty sure she had everything she needed. They would go straight to the venue from the airport, and afterward, Mike had set them up at Hotel ZaZa for two nights. Pool villas. Savannah had drooled over pictures she’d found online, and the closer it grew to time to leave, the more excited she became. She and Rowan both needed this so badly.

They would have all day tomorrow to relax, shop, get pedicures, whatever they wanted. Savannah was ready to be the one pampered instead of the one pampering for a change. She could do with a massage herself. All the stress of the past few weeks had accumulated in a tight knot at the base of her neck.

“Is it time to leave yet?” Rowan asked, still eyeing her form critically in the mirror.

Savannah glanced at her slim silver watch. “Not quite.”

“Can we go anyway?”

“You want to hang around the airport for three hours?”

“Better than hanging around here.”

“Let’s give it thirty more minutes.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, hell, never mind. Let’s go.”

Rowan practically leaped over the storage ottoman at the end of her bed in her giddy haste to snatch up her overnight bag. Chuckling, Savannah zipped up her own and followed her out of the bedroom. Rowan, of course, insisted on playing August on Fire all the way to the airport, and Savannah had to admit that while it wasn’t her kind of music—a little raucous for her tastes—Zane had a good voice. Of course, they would see how true that held when they heard him sing live. So many artists these days had to rely on Auto-Tune, and she’d seen more than enough live acts to know some of them couldn’t replicate their studio voices.

Rowan sang every word along with him. Every single word. Most of those words were about loss, searching for something and never finding it, or being treated like trash. Cheerful.

“How does this not depress you even more?” Savannah asked as Rowan hit the blinker to exit off I-10 to Louis Armstrong International.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t. It helps put everything in perspective, I guess. Everyone suffers. Some are suffering worse than I am. There’s strength to be found in that.”

She had certainly known enough grief to know what worked for her. “Whatever you say. I usually turn to comedy when I need cheering up.”

“See, that always makes me feel worse. I need to wallow in it.”

“I don’t know how you’re holding up when I’m not with you, but I think you’re doing great.”

Under her dark, oversized sunglasses, Rowan’s cupid’s bow mouth tightened a bit. “I’m doing okay. Nighttime is the worst.”

“I understand.”

“One of the reasons I’m so excited to get out of the house. Sleeping in our bed with Tommy not there . . . sometimes I can’t. I have to go to the guest room or fall asleep on the couch watching TV.”

“You can always come stay with me, if you need to. Or I’m sure the parents would love to have you.”

“I’ve actually done that a time or two.”

Wow. Savannah hadn’t known that. At least Rowan felt like she had somewhere to go. “I still can’t believe you told Mom we were doing this.”

“I’m sorry. You know, she almost talked me out of it. Almost.”

“No way!”

“She’s very persuasive.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“She actually asked, ‘What if they’re doing that crowd surfing thing and you get kicked in the stomach?’”

“Oh my God. Did you tell her we’re going to be side stage?”

“Yep. That presented a whole new bunch of problems. Apparently we’re going to get kidnapped by roadies or forced to do sexual favors or drugged.”

“You didn’t mention that Mike set this whole thing up did, though, did you? Or that there’s any connection there at all?”

Rowan shook her head adamantly. “Hell no. I can’t mention him ever.”

“I still think you’re too hard on him.”

“What difference does it make? If I never heard his name again, that would be fine with me. Why do I have to be nice and forgiving? He took my husband away.” Rowan’s voice rose higher the longer she spoke.

“All right, all right, don’t get upset. We’re doing this to have fun, right? We won’t mention him again. But . . . he is Zane’s brother, you know.”

Rowan pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she read signs directing them where to park. “And Zane is someone I’ll have contact with exactly one time. Tonight. Done.”

Snickering, Savannah dug in her purse for her phone to check for texts. None. She was a little disappointed. And a little nervous about even the possibility of bumping into Mike again.

“What are you smirking about?”