Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)(9)

But I can do that stuff.

I simply need to look the part.

I reach into my purse to freshen up my lip gloss, my fingers rubbing against the stack of bills I need to pay.

Chloe’s school bill.

Chloe’s therapist.

Not to mention the rent.

Maybe if I sang with Miller, I wouldn’t have to worry about hustling so hard for every book, every contract, and every deal.

Later, I finish fending off today’s tribe of spirit invaders, and I head home. As Chloe and I plan our outfits for the Christmas party at Campbell’s house tomorrow, I start to formulate my plans.

I call my friend Macy and tell her I need a little night magic.



*

I grew up in New Paltz, New York, the youngest of three kids to a literature professor and a dentist. My parents were and still are regular churchgoers, and that’s how my brother and I started singing. Sundays, Easter, Christmas . . . those were my favorites—since our church was more casual, we sang “I’ll be Home for Christmas” right along with “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

I parlayed that love of singing into chorus in high school then an all-girls a cappella group in college.

Our sister, Lindsay, laughed at her lack of musical talent and pursued a college degree in environmental science, nabbing a great job in her field shortly after graduation. At just twenty-three, she became pregnant after a one-night stand who told her he never wanted to be a father. Determined to do it all, Lindsay managed to raise her kid on her own and juggle a career for the first six years of Chloe’s life.

Until she drove to a friend’s house one snowy evening in March, lost control of the car on a patch of ice, and lost her life when a truck rammed into her.

The seatbelts in the back seat did their job. Somehow, miraculously, Chloe only broke an arm.

I say only, but she lost so much more.

My parents are older and retired, and they offered to raise her. Trouble was, their health was on the decline. Besides, Lindsay had asked me one Christmas, as we were setting gifts under the tree, the blue and white lights twinkling in her living room.

“Will you take care of my girl if anything happens to me?”

I stared at her as if she’d sprouted a unicorn horn. “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re healthy and safe.”

“You never know.” Lindsay grabbed my arm, held it tightly, forcing me to look into her brown eyes. They were sad but determined. “Will you raise her? Make sure she’s happy and healthy and knows right from wrong? Make sure she has fun and does all her homework too? I want you to be her guardian if something happens to me.”

“Are you sick?” I’d asked, fear thick in my voice.

“No. Just trying to be smart. You never know what a day has in store for you.”

“Of course. But stop talking such nonsense on Christmas.”

Three months later, fate had the worst in store. Lindsay died on impact, and Chloe became mine.

Kirby and his wife, Macy, have helped over the years, taking care of her often, pitching in with bills. My parents spend many weekends with her. But at the end of the day, my house is her home. I’m the one who signs her permission slips, who’s listed as the emergency contact, and who’s her guardian.

Without a roadmap, I’ve done my best to give her stability and love. It hasn’t always been easy, and Chloe was, understandably, devastated when her mom died. She was shy and withdrawn for a few years, and that’s why I sent her to a therapist. She’s resilient though, a tough little cookie who’s learning how to adapt.

I love my niece like crazy, and I want to give her the best chance a kid can possibly have. That’s why I pay to send her to a school where she’s finally thriving, and to do fun activities she enjoys, like photography and art classes, and why I do everything I can to be there for her. That’s why the last guy I dated was history after only one month. That was more than a year ago, and Jake didn’t understand why Chloe was my priority. “She’s not even yours,” he’d said. “I wish you’d make time for me the way you do for her.”

“Not even a minute, Jake. You won’t even get another second.”

And Chloe is also why Miller’s audition appeals to me. This new band could be a little extra on the side.



*

I’m humming to myself in Campbell’s kitchen the next day.

He and Miller are picking up last-minute items for the Christmas party. Even though it’s early in December, Campbell’s daughter, Samantha, loves the holiday so much she’s insisted on having two parties—one early and one later.

Plus, Miller’s younger brother, Miles, is in town for a couple weeks, during a break between his tour in Australia and a short European leg, where he’ll spend the rest of the month.

Chloe and I grab stools at the kitchen counter.

Samantha loves to bake, and she’s enlisted me in the not-terribly-complex-but-terribly-tempting task of sprinkling powdered sugar on top of the Nutella bread pudding.

Chloe leans close and stage-whispers out of the corner of her mouth, “Want to sneak out with this one? I’ll guard the door while you make a run for it.”

I laugh. “I’m one hundred percent in support of this plan.”

“I heard you,” Samantha cuts in, in what has to be her sternest voice possible. “No one is making off with the Christmas goodies.”