You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(7)

Expertly, he ladled mulled wine into a clean glass mug. “You’ve gotta know Rage, it’s a mega rock band.”

“I prefer yodeling, myself.” Kayla accepted her drinks and handed him a fifty-dollar bill.

He paused en route to the cash register. “Even on a Swiss mountaintop, you’d have heard about the lead singer, Zander Freedman. He’s been all over the news. Lip-syncing live concerts, everyone’s trying to get their money refunded.”

“That’s bullshit…I mean, it sounds like a media beat-up.”

“No,” he argued, making no further move to the till. If the bill had been less than a fifty, she would have told him to keep the change. “Freedman admitted to lip-syncing at a charity fundraiser.”

“The fundraiser, not the concerts,” she corrected, unable to stop herself. “The charity would have lost a lot of money otherwise…I hear. Shouldn’t you have your Christmas decorations up?”

“Hey, I’m a big fan,” the bartender finally went to the cash register. “I’ll be lining up to buy tickets when Freedman recovers from vocal surgery.”

Kayla said nothing. It wasn’t public knowledge that Zander’s singing voice might not recover.

“I never listen to entertainment gossip,” said the guy beside her and she rewarded him with a smile. “What interests me as a lawyer is Freedman’s tour insurers saying his vocal issues are pre-existing. If they don’t pay out tour cancellation insurance, he’s screwed financially.”

“I really do think this place needs Christmas decorations.” Kayla held out her hand for the change.

“Anyway, your hot date?” The bartender counted her change on her palm, lots of small bills for a tip. “It’s Jared Walker…no, don’t take the Guinness yet. Now the bubbles have settled I can pour the head.” Picking up the glass, he returned to the pump.

Reluctantly Kayla climbed back onto her stool, wishing she’d ordered a Bud.

A redheaded waitress put her tray on the counter. “Oh, I loved him on that reality show when he was auditioning for Rage. And his story was so moving. His wife entered him in the audition without his knowledge. And he wrote her that beautiful song. Soooo romantic.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘Kayla’s Song.’” The bartender frowned at Kayla and she remembered he’d overheard her telling the lawyer that this was her first date with “Bob.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the lawyer staring.

Busted. “It’s okay, that’s me.” She held up her left hand and realized it was bare. “I took my wedding ring off to”—play sexy stranger games—“because I have, um…eczema.”

“Both of you have eczema?” said the blond waitress who’d tried flirt with Jared. She gave the bartender an order slip. “Her name is Betty and Bob—” she drew air quotes “—removed his wedding ring, too.”

Squealer.

Suddenly, Kayla was being stabbed to death by several pairs of disapproving eyes. “We are married. Look, I’ll show you my driver’s license.”

The bartender plonked the Guinness in front of her. “Hey, no judgment from me. Whoever he’s with is great for business.”

Kayla stopped foraging in her bag for her driver’s license. “That’s good to hear. I’ll send him with our kids next time. They’re four and eleven months.”

Dropping a small bill, she grabbed the drinks off the bar and headed toward their table. Jared was standing, probably to avoid having women piling on his lap for the selfies. It had happened, she’d witnessed it. Smiled through it.

She stopped for a gulp of mulled wine.

Veil askance, the soon-to-be-bride, was hanging off him, clearly on the disorderly side of drunk.

“Okay, here’s my date,” he said, gently freeing himself. “Great to meet you all, and have a wonderful wedding, Paula.”

“But this is the best part.” Paula grabbed his arm again. “You know how there’s this thing where you get a celebrity free pass from your guy to f*ck your crush. Well, you’re mine. Can you believe it? And I’m still single. It’s like we’re meant to be.”

The other girls nodded as though that made perfect sense, all except the sober driver, who shot Kayla an embarrassed glance.

Jared disentangled again. “I’m married,” he said firmly and all at once, Kayla was back in Edinburgh.

Her lungs constricted. It was suddenly difficult to get air. In her mind’s eye she saw the French journalist kiss him, and Jared extricate himself—“I’m married”—unaware of Kayla watching across the road. Her relief became dread when she saw his sexual speculation as he watched Simone walk away. His gaze collided with Kayla’s, and a flash of guilt confirmed it.

He’d laughed off the attraction and that frightened her most, because it meant Jared didn’t feel in control of the changes in himself either.

It was the last straw. She’d booked flights home for her and the kids. Before we hurt each other more than we can fix.

At the airport, Jared had shown her a tattoo on his shoulder, new and still red and swollen. The kids’ names and hers. “You,” he’d said. “Always and only you.” And Kayla had clung to the gesture with the same desperation, she suspected, that had driven Jared to make it.