“Yep, I think she’s pretty excited about the invite. She offered to bring a spinach dip.”
“Aww, what a sweet kid.”
Shrugging, Zane said, “She’s twenty-five, so she’s not exactly a kid.”
Pursing her lips, Sienna said, “Do you even remember being twenty-five?”
He pulled a face as if she’d hurt his feelings. She hadn’t. “You’re making me sound like I’m over the hill.”
“We both are.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her in. “No, we’re not. We’re still wild and as exciting as ever.”
“You are, maybe. I can’t even have a glass of champagne.”
“Soon, sweetheart. We’ll get to meet this new baby, and you’ll be back to doing all the things you love.”
They say when you marry a man, you marry his family as well. The same is true when marrying the lead singer of a tight-knit rock band. For better or for worse applies to the other wives and girlfriends too, all thrown into the chaos and comfort of their crazy lives.
As far as the bass player, Mike Kurilla, and the drummer, Steven Moore, went, the women changed so fast Sienna didn’t bother learning their names. (Steven had been married when she first met Zane, but it had fizzled out yearsago. Since then, short term relationships only.) The band’s lead guitar player, Rusty Dwyer, however, married his college sweetheart (and Steven’s big sister), Kitty. Over the last fifteen years, Kitty had become one of Sienna’s closest friends. She was the only person who truly understood what it was to be the wife of a musician—the excitement, the loneliness, the wondering if he was really alone in his hotel room or not.
Actually, Kitty didn’t understand that last part because she never doubted Rusty. But then again, they were each other’s first loves, whereas Zane’s history with women was somewhat sordid. Well, not somewhat. It was sordid in every sense—a fact that caused Sienna’s maid of honor, Kylie, to warn her that Zane treated women the way a chain-smoker treats cigarettes. But Rusty’s eye never wandered. He went directly from their shows to the hotel to call home and spend an hour or two talking about the boring things that make up a marriage.It threatened to rain at soccer practice, but it held off until we got home. The car is making that rattling noise again and will have to be taken into the shop. Whose parents are we spending Thanksgiving with this year? Wasn’t it your parents last year? I’m sure it was.
When they were in the same time zone, they fell asleep talking to each other, which made for exorbitant phone bills. They both agreed the calls were a necessity. Sienna secretly thought this was a sign Kitty might not trust her husband as fully as she claimed. But who was she to judge? They’d been together a hell of a lot longer than she and Zane, and they seemed happy, from the outside anyway.
Sienna told the Dwyers to come by an hour before everyone else so they could get caught up. The catering staff would still be busy in the kitchen instead of milling around eavesdropping. Zane buzzed them through the iron gate atthe front of the property, then left the door open. The air in the house cooled as the sound of their footsteps crunching against the pea gravel driveway grew louder.
When Sienna saw them, she relaxed a little. They were both closer to fifty than forty, but you’d never guess it to look at them. Money keeps you young. Rusty was in pleated black jeans and a dark blue and black striped button-down shirt with the buttons done up all the way to his neck. Kitty wore her usual boho-clash style (that Lisa Bonet had copied). Tonight, she was in a flowy light gray dress with a skinny black belt and a dark purple velvet floor-length coat. Her brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulders, and her long bangs were swept across her forehead to stay out of her eyes.
“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Rusty said, pulling Sienna in for a warm hug. “You look lovely, kiddo.”
“That’s debatable,” Sienna answered. “But thank you for trying.”
She and Kitty shared a hug while the men shook hands. Then they made their way to the main living room. There was some small talk about how Christmas had gone while Zane stood behind the bar, pouring three rum and Cokes, and a club soda with lots of lime for his wife.
They sipped their drinks, then Sienna said, “Oh, Kitty, I want to ask your advice about the nursery.”
Zane gave Rusty a wry smile. “Sienna hasn’t needed design advice in her entire life, so I’m guessing that’s code for they want to talk about us behind our backs.”
Sienna rolled her eyes. “As if you two are so interesting.”
As soon as they were alone in the nursery, Kitty asked what was wrong.
Sienna flicked on the light and closed the door. “What do you know about this Claudia person?”
Kitty gave her a knowing look. “Not much. Rusty says she’s extremely talented. And nice. Are you worried?”
Nodding, Sienna felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. “It’s probably just because I’m pregnant. I’m feeling a little insecure, you know?”
“Say no more. I get it.”
“Not that I think Zane’s a cheater. I wouldn’t be with him if he was.” Sienna turned her gaze to the empty crib to avoid seeing any hint of trouble that may be in her friend’s eyes. “But the way he talks about her has me a little … concerned.” She deepened her voice to imitate her husband. “Claudia said the funniest thing today. Claudia played her version of ‘Time to Go to Town’ for us and it blew me away. Claudia has the exact same vocal range as Aretha Franklin. Can you believe it? Aretha. We got lucky this time.”
Kitty ran her hand over an alpaca wool blanket that was slung over the side of the crib. “I can see why that would irritate you.”
“It’s the whole reason for this stupid party. I needed to see her with my own eyes and watch them together.”
“I’m sure you don’t have any reason to worry. Zane’s madly in love with you.”
