Another round of pre-show stage fright hurling.
“You okay in there, love?” Dad calls through the door.
I splash cold water on my face and plaster on a smile. “Fine,” I reply, walking out of the bathroom and into the small dressing room.
My father looks up from the chair he’s sitting in, worried creases lining his brow. “You sure it’s only?—?”
“I’m not pregnant, Dad.”
His shoulders fall, but he doesn’t look relieved. If he’s hoping to be a grandad any time soon, then he’ll have a long wait ahead. I’ve had two periods since leaving New York. And I’m still taking my pill, despite the idea of letting a man near me again making me break out in hives.
“I’ll never marry you, Tate. I’ll never want to have children with you.”
It’s been weeks, yet Sullivan’s words still circle around myhead like a cruel merry-go-round. He had to put it out there so callously. Make sure I understood.
I meantnothingto him.
“It’s just pre-performance jitters. Completely normal,” I tell my father.
“It’s getting worse, love. You only used to be sick once before a show. Now you’re in the bathroom for an hour each time.”
“It’s the traveling. All the different food’s messing with my stomach,” I lie.
My father nods, looking unconvinced.
I walk over to the vase of flowers and inhale their creamy scent to remove the smell of vomit from my nostrils—white roses, like the paper ones Sullivan gave me that are still at home in my bedroom.
A wave of nausea threatens to rise again, and I step back, grabbing a bottle of water to sip instead.
“This is the one!” a voice yells in the hallway.
The door bursts open and Ashley flies in, red and flustered.
“Jesus, where’s the air conditioning?”
She tosses her purse onto the floor and makes a beeline for me, pulling me into her arms.
“Tate? Oh my God. Girl, I’ve missed you!”
“Ash!” I squeal, wrapping my arms around her and laughing at how tight she’s squeezing me. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“We wanted to surprise you.”
I look up, and Huck is hovering inside the doorway wearing jeans and a lumberjack shirt.
“Hey, Tate.” He lifts a hand in greeting first to me, then my father. The other is curled around a steaming travel mug.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, holding her tight. “You’ve no idea how much I needed this.”
“About as much as I did too, I expect,” Ashley replies, letting me go and turning to smile at Huck. “Give it to her, then.”
She pulls my father into a hug almost as enthusiastically as she did me.
Huck steps forward and brandishes the travel mug to me like it’s filled with liquid gold.
“You brought me one from Caffeine Couture because you knew I missed home? No way. You’re amazing!” I grin, taking the mug and inhaling the rich, decadent scent, waiting for the blast of familiarity to envelop me like a warm hug on a cold night.
“Oh? Is it a new blend?” I ask, taking a sip. It’s smooth and creamy, and something about it makes my throat thicken with emotion, even though it isn’t one of our house blends I’ve spent hours drinking with Ashley.
