A Winter Wedding(47)

“Don’t cry,” he said. “I hate myself for this.”

She dashed a hand across her cheek. “So why won’t you ask her to find another manager?”

“Because, like I said, it was one stupid night—a mistake. There’s no need to let that ruin everything. My career depends on selling artists. And you need me to maintain good contacts in this industry. That’s the only way I’ll be able to help you get back on top.”

Ah, here was the spin. He was keeping Crystal as a client for her, even though she’d pleaded with him to do the opposite. “I have to go,” she said.

“What do you mean? We were just starting to talk about this. You said you wanted me to be honest, so I stepped up. Don’t cut me off when I only did what you asked.”

That was wrong on so many levels, Lourdes didn’t know where to begin to explain that she owed him nothing for his confession. “Or what?” she said. “Next time you won’t tell me?”

“No...” He seemed to flounder with that for a few seconds before coming up with an acceptable answer. “It’s not going to happen again. I promise.”

But she knew how much his promises meant. He’d already promised her, after cheating on his wife, he’d never cheat again.

Suddenly, she began to realize that it didn’t matter if he had Crystal find a different manager. Crystal wasn’t the problem. He was. “I’d stay on the phone,” Lourdes said, “but there’s no need to continue the conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because whatever we had is over,” she said sadly and hung up.





13

When Kyle returned, it was three in the morning, so he was surprised to find Lourdes awake. Her guitar was in her lap, but she wasn’t playing it. She was watching TV.

“What happened? You quit texting me,” she said, setting her guitar aside and coming to meet him as soon as he walked in.

“Sorry about that. When it started getting late, I assumed you’d go to bed. I didn’t want to keep you up by constantly making your phone buzz.”

“I wouldn’t have minded. I’ve been worried.”

She’d also been crying. He could tell from the puffiness around her eyes. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.” She lifted her chin as if she couldn’t imagine why he’d ask. “How’s Callie? That’s what’s important.”

He managed a tired smile. “Turns out we had nothing to worry about.”

“She made it through without any complications?”

“The doctors are still keeping a close eye on her, but...yeah.”

“That’s wonderful!”

The aftereffects of the adrenaline that had saturated his system during Callie’s labor and delivery had hit him hard on the long drive from UC Davis Medical Center in Sacramento. He could hardly keep his eyes open. “She’s so happy.”

“That must mean the baby’s healthy, too.”

“Yes. Little Aiden is underweight—only five pounds—but otherwise he seems to be in fine shape. From what the doctors were saying, the lungs are the last organs to form, so they’re watching him for pneumothoraces, which are caused when holes in the lung tissue allow air to escape. If he gets one or more of those, they’ll do some sort of oxygen treatment, and if that doesn’t work, they’ll insert a tube in his chest until the holes heal. For some reason, it’s more common in boys who are born early than girls.”

She moved her guitar to a more secure spot. “Still, a great report. Levi must be relieved that his family came through it so well.”

Kyle was surprised she remembered Levi’s name. “He is. I’ve never seen him quite as emotional as he was tonight.” He chuckled as he remembered the tears in his friend’s eyes. “He’s always been a tough guy, a man of few words. We’ll give him shit about it later.”

“If he’s that tough, he can take it.”

“He does his share of teasing in our group.” He tossed his keys on the counter. “So you ready for bed?”

She nodded.

He wanted to ask about Derrick, if something had happened while he was gone, but he hesitated to upset her, especially just before they finally got some sleep. “I’m glad tomorrow’s Sunday,” he muttered. All he had to worry about was dinner at his parents’...

“Since I came here, one day isn’t very different from the next for me,” she said.

“They will be once you’re working.”

“Right.” There didn’t seem to be much conviction in that word. But she didn’t argue with him. While he got a drink of water, she turned off the TV and started down the hall.

“Good night,” he called.

“Good night,” she called back. “I’m really glad your friend’s okay—and her baby, too.”

“Thanks.” By the time he put his glass in the sink and walked down the hall himself, her door was closed. But as he came nearer, she opened it.

“By the way, there won’t be any need to hire a private investigator to spy on Derrick, so don’t feel you have to find me one.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the opposite wall. “So what does that mean? He’s managed to convince you?”