If Ever(89)

Chelsea gives me a critical once over. "Really? I'd never guess it looking at him."

I burst out laughing. "I'm right here, I can hear you."

The older sister intervenes to get to the bottom of this. "Only one of you is telling the truth."

"I am," I volunteer.

"Can you prove it?" the girl asks.

"Sure can." I drag Chelsea to my side, and swing her into a dip. She squeals and I lay a kiss on her sassy mouth. "Remember me now, love?" I say into her startled eyes.

She giggles. "I think it's coming back to me."

I swing her up to her feet and without anyone seeing pinch her ass. She gives a little squeak.

"You are his girlfriend!" the little one says to Chelsea.

"After that kiss, I suppose I better be."

"You're so lucky," she answers.

Chelsea glances at me with a sweet smile. "That I am."

She offers to take a picture of me with the girls and their mother. We say our goodbyes and I tuck my arm around her and head off to meet my friends.





*





Tom and I are still laughing when we descend the steps to the cellar-like club. It's warm and cozy with a votive on each of the many cocktail tables, a long bar lines one side, and a small stage is located in the back. His show friends are already here—several with dates or spouses.

Paige slides over to make room for us, and Tom sneaks in another chair to the crowded table. She hugs me hello and we catch up while he fetches us drinks.

When he returns I ask which guy is leaving the show. He points. "Andy over there in the gray hoodie with the huge grin."

We spend the next hour talking and laughing with his friends, spilling popcorn on the floor, and listening to a range of people, both talented and tone deaf, singing karaoke.

"Please sing," I beg Tom again. Relaxed, with his arm over the back of my chair, he shakes his head—the stubborn man. "Why not?" I plead. He's the most talented person I've ever met and he should show it off.

"Because half these blokes will record it and load it onto YouTube before I've finished my next gin and tonic. I can't be the Broadway guy who sang bad karaoke. I'd never live it down."

I see his point, but doubt he could sing badly even if he tried. Unable to think of any other way to convince him, and loosened up after two drinks, I lean in close. "What if it was my birthday and the only thing I wanted was to hear you sing?"

He eyes me skeptically. "If it were your birthday, yes, I'd sing karaoke for you." He pops a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

I look at him expectantly and smile. When I don't break my gaze, his eyebrows crease with suspicion. I whisper in his ear, "Today's my birthday."

"Nice try," he laughs and pats my thigh, his hand warm and comfortable.

"No, really. It is." I wait, holding my breath now that I've told him.

He sits up. "That's not possible. Because if it were your birthday, I'd know about it, and we'd be doing something special to celebrate, and not out in some grungy bar with my drunk, wanker friends."

I shrug and smile, nudging the songbook toward him.

His smile fades as he realizes I'm serious. "It is not your birthday."

I nod.

"Prove it."

I laugh, which makes him doubt me even more. "You don't believe me?"

I wouldn't put it past you to say anything just to get me on that stage. You're sneaky that way." He tickles my side.

"I am not sneaky." I giggle.

He cocks his head, and I think of our earlier scene with the girls outside the stage door. "Okay, maybe a little, but only for good reasons." I grab my wallet from my handbag and pull out my driver's license.

He snatches it from my hand. His jaw drops as he spies my birthdate.

I grin.

"How could you go through the whole day and not tell me? I am the worst boyfriend ever. I should have rifled through your wallet so I'd know all your secrets."

"I don't celebrate my birthday, but if I can use it to guilt you to sing for me, well, that's another story."

"Why don't you celebrate?"

I hesitate, unsure what to tell him, but decide on honesty. I gaze at him and sigh. "Because my mom died on my fourteenth birthday.

His expression turns to remorseful embarrassment. "Aw, buggar. I'm sorry."

I don't want to go to that sad place, not today. I rest my hand on his arm. "Please don't let it ruin our night. I've had enough crummy birthdays."

He considers my words then he kisses me. "Deal. I'll sing, but only because it's your birthday."

I open the songbook for him. "Pick one."

He pushes his chair back. "Oh no. You want this, you pick."

Paige returns and leans over in surprise. "You convinced Tom to sing?"

I grin and nod while he shakes his head, still in denial.

"But only because it's Chelsea's birthday," he adds.

"Happy birthday!" She says to me then pokes Tom. "You big loser, why didn't you tell us?"

He levels me with an accusatory look. "Because I just found out."