The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(59)

“And boring.” His mother patted his shoulder. “But I asked him to sit with me because I wanted you to meet people and have some fun. After I saw you on the floor with Zara, I knew I’d made the right decision. And then when I saw you together in the hospital . . .” She put her hand to her chest, her eyes growing soft.

“Mom. She’s gone through a lot. Bad relationships, her parents’ divorce . . . She’s not big on getting serious. And even if she was, there are things about me . . . stuff that happened. I don’t want that darkness to touch her.”

“That’s her decision to make, not yours.” She pushed back her chair and crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like she’s strong enough to deal with whatever you throw her way and maybe bring some joy into your life.”

Jay counted five casserole dishes and numerous small bowls in his once-empty fridge. His mother hadn’t wasted any time.

“When I just mentioned seeing her again, she almost ran out of her own apartment.” He’d picked up on her anxiety when he walked into the kitchen and she’d shoved the bag of bagels at him. He’d never been on the wrong side of a hookup. Usually he was the one running away.

“I’ve never known you to back away from a challenge.” She took out a small container of milk peda and added a few to a plate. “Maybe you should invite her over for dinner. I’ve made all your favorite dishes.”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t know if I want—”

“Babe! He’s got the gun. What a moron. His prints are gonna be all over it. I would have worn gloves. And it’s fucking daylight. He’s not real Mafia. You would never see them coming.”

“I’d better go before he finishes all the wings.” She picked up the plate of sweets, her lips tipping up with a smile. “Sometimes we find happiness where we least expect it.”



* * *



? ? ?

Zara ran across the stage with the members of the chorus, straining to reach the high notes of “Climbing over Rocky Mountain.” The set designers had created a beach scene using Styrofoam rocks and a poorly painted backdrop of the sky. With limited funds, the producer had decided to spend money on costumes instead of sets. She couldn’t fault his choice. Her yellow ruffled dress and bloomers were a delight to wear, and she got to carry a parasol.

“Smile,” David called out. “You’re supposed to be having fun.” The assistant director had joined the creative team at the last minute after his predecessor had been asked to direct a play on Broadway.

Zara danced and twirled with the rest of the chorus before helping to spread a blanket on the ground for their pretend picnic. Hopefully the musical would be a big success for the theater. Steeped in history and smelling strongly of old furniture and faintly of cigarettes, the cozy, intimate playhouse had retained much of its original woodwork and crown moldings. Stained-glass lights, thick curtains, and red plush seats gave it an art deco feel that was unmatched by any of the other community theaters she’d performed at over the years.

David nodded from the front row of the mostly empty theater as they rehearsed. Performers were allowed to invite friends and family to watch, but on a sunny day like today few people had shown up. She recognized the fiancé of a member of the chorus and the mother of the Pirate King, but not the man now leaning against the wall at the back of the theater. Squinting through the bright stage lights, she was just able to make out his face.

Jay.

A thrill of excitement shot down her spine. Never in a million years would she have expected to see him here, especially when he’d told her he planned to spend the day at the office. Her heart pounded even harder than it had the day Antoine Vaillancourt, star of her high school drama club, had accepted her invitation to come for a free large fries at Big Joe’s Burgers, where she’d worked as a cashier during her sophomore year.

She twirled her parasol, belting out the words to the song with such enthusiasm that the performers next to her shot her curious glances. Heart racing, her smile stretching her cheeks to the max, she spun faster, kicked higher, jumped farther, threw out her arms, and accidentally slapped the woman beside her on the back of her head.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t stop,” David shouted.

Zara joined the rest of the chorus as they played ball with a red balloon. She felt hyperaware of Jay watching, and curiously self-conscious. The balloon drifted toward her and she batted it away so hard, it hit Julia—a lackluster Kate—in the face, throwing her off the beat.

“Stop the music.” David jumped up from his seat. “Julia, you’ll have to start over.”

“It’s not my fault,” Julia snapped. “Zara attacked the balloon like she was trying to score an Olympic gold in beach volleyball.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Zara’s cheeks heated. “It was just overinflated.”

“You’re going to have to deal with the unexpected every time we perform,” David said. “The show must go on. You can’t get distracted.” He checked his watch. “I think we’re done for the day. Let’s all get out and enjoy the sunshine.”

Zara left with the rest of the cast to change her clothes and have a quick word with the prop master about balloon alternatives for the picnic scene. By the time she was done, the playhouse had cleared out. She found Jay waiting for her beside the stage.