“It depends on her dress,” I reply. “What color is it?”
He grimaces. “I didn’t think to ask.”
“You need to know, or the corsage could wind up the wrong color.”
“What if I just go with white?”
“That can work.” I pause. “Are you taking Kirsten to prom?”
He nods.
“Are things getting serious?”
He blows out a breath. “They’re not supposed to. She’s going off to college in New York and I’m going on tour. But this thing between us… I don’t know, man. She was so bummed about not having a date for prom and the words popped out before I could stop them. I didn’t even go to my own prom.”
“I think it’s sweet,” I say.
“She’s young,” he says. “And I don’t want to hold her back.”
“Her or you?” I ask gently.
“Her. I’ve done a lot of sleeping around, groupies, all of it. I could be with her if she was ready. But she’s not. The timing sucks all around.”
“If that’s truly how you feel, then you need to let her fly free. If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back to you. Zaan and I did that.”
“You did?”
“Almost exactly the same situation, where I was going off to Julliard and he was playing pro hockey. Then Special Kay came calling, and I went out on tour. We both needed the time and space to grow up. You and Kirsten—if the timing isn’t right, it’s not going to work anyway.”
I say the words and they hit me in the chest.
If the timing isn’t right, it’s not going to work anyway.
Is that how I feel about my pregnancy? My career? My marriage?
Fuck-fuck-fuck.
I feel another panic attack coming on.
“Lex?” Sam puts a gentle hand on my arm. “What’s wrong? You’re really pale…”
“I…” I’m suddenly clammy and uncomfortable.
“Do you need me to call someone?”
“No, I…” I pull in a shaky breath. “Please don’t say anything—I’m pregnant and have been getting panic attacks. I feel one coming on and I don’t know why.”
“What can I do?”
Tears sting my eyelids.
I just want Zaan.
But he’s at the arena.
“I don’t know.” I swipe at my eyes.
Out of nowhere, Sam reaches out and takes my hand.
