Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(75)

“Let me come with you.”

“No.” I shook my head determinedly. “Absolutely not. You’ve never been to Europe. You’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. It’s only six weeks. I’ll manage. Besides, honestly, I need the space right now.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “You promise you’ll call me if you need me.”

I held up my hand. “I solemnly swear.”

“Hmm.”

“Killer and I are just going to hang out, take it easy.”

“He’s definitely going to be relieved to get out of the pet hotel. That’s one silver lining at least. The last few times I’ve called, he’s flat-out refused to speak to me.”

“He’s a dog, Anne. He can’t talk.”

More frowning. “But he used to make these little yipping noises and bark at me. You know what I mean. I’m worried this has given him abandonment issues. He’s a very sensitive animal. He’s like Mal, deep down, in a way.”

“He’s a lunatic who chases his own tail until he falls over,” I said. “Actually, he kind of is like Mal, you’re right.”

“True.” Anne nodded with a thoughtful look.

“Well, I promise to apply all of my psychology skills to resolving his issues before you return.” In my experience, Killer’s happiness could be bought with a pack of Canadian bacon and the destruction of one of Mal’s Converse. I’d already stolen a reasonably new-looking shoe out of Mal’s closet for just this purpose. The dog would be back to his usual tail-wagging, gleeful, psycho self in no time.

My own abandonment issues might take a little longer to resolve.

Tomorrow, Stage Dive moved on to Montreal, then Europe. Slightly sooner, in secret, I’d return to Oregon. Everyone was going to the concert tonight for the first performance of yet another song. I guess it was a new tradition to have everyone there. Nice. Seemed David was in fine writing form these days—touring agreed with him. While they were gone, I’d make my sneaky exit. Anne didn’t know, she thought I was leaving in the morning. But she’d understand. There’d been enough drama. A big emotional good-bye wouldn’t help anyone. Certainly not me. Staying in the same city as Ben, even for the last twenty-four hours, was grating on me. I ached to have his whole world behind me. I wasn’t being naive and pretending my grief wouldn’t be boarding that plane right along with me. It was more a feeling that I couldn’t even begin to move on until I could see this city recede into nothing through the little airline window. It would be all the closure I’d get.

Besides, the town of Seaside on the Oregon coast was beautiful this time of year. It also wouldn’t be where the press would expect me to turn up. I’d drive out there in the Mustang and get a room, something overlooking the ocean. A pretty view to help me pull myself together, to get over my disappointment and get myself in the right frame of mind for single motherhood. Me and Bean would be fine. Killer too, for that matter.

“You’re just going to go to sleep?” Anne asked, zipping up my case and lugging it off the bed.

“Yeah. I’ll take a shower and then crash. Thanks for helping me pack,” I said. “You better get going. The guys will be taking to the stage soon. And you know what traffic is like in New York.”

She dropped a kiss on top of my head. Then went crazy with both hands, messing up my hair like we were all of fourteen again or something.

“God, grow up, would you?” I groused, pushing my long locks back off my face.

“’Night.” She grinned. Marriage to Mal had apparently given her the childhood she’d missed out on the first time around, what with our parents’ selfishness. It was nice, if occasionally somewhat annoying. I really needed to remember to give her a wedgie in retribution, next time I saw her.

“’Night.”

She walked out with a final wave.

I sat perfectly still, waiting for the click of the outer door closing. Then, just to be certain, I waited another ten minutes. And … yes. Operation Make a Run for It was a go.

I slipped on my black flats and stuffed my blond hair up under a plain black baseball cap, raising the handle on my case. Done. My one-way ticket home had been booked earlier, during a particularly long stint in the john. It seemed the only place some concerned soul wouldn’t interrupt me every two minutes: Was I hungry? Nope. What about a drink? Nuh. How about a rehashing of the god-awful events of the night before, followed by a good long cry on concerned soul’s shoulder, with excessive hugging thrown in? No way. But thanks for asking.

I loved the girls. Honest to god I did. But right then I needed space from everyone.

I peeked my head out. Nada. Not a sign of security in sight. To be expected, given I’d promised to stay in my room and you could only access the floor with the special key. Down I went in the shiny elevator. Across the bright, busy ground floor I all but ran, towing my case behind me. My plane left in a little over two hours. Even with the hellish New York traffic, it should be plenty of time to reach the airport and get through security.

Outside, the night air was warm, alive with light and color. New York really was the city that never slept.

“Can I help you, miss?” a nice doorman asked me, holding out a gloved hand for my case.

“Yes, thank you. I’d like a cab to JFK, please.”