“It’s a test,” Gabe said. “Solo’s got to pop the bubble wrap and let other people help take care of the girls, so she can concentrate more on keeping her wife happy.” She kissed the top of Lori’s head. “Like I’m learning how to keep you happy.”
Solo scoffed. “Looks like you’re a natural. But it was me who said you’d fall in love with a woman you rescued on the road.”
“Maybe.” Gabe grinned. “But I don’t have that Hallmark movie subscription like you do.”
Lori tipped her head back and looked up at Gabe adoringly. “That’s because we’re too busy?—”
Solo put her finger to her lips. “My babies don’t need to hear that.” She glanced over her shoulder at her dad. “And neither does he.”
Gabe wiggled her eyebrows. “Anyway, back to the plan. Remind Janie that you didn’t see her just as the incubator to your tiny terrors. Remind her you were obsessed with her even when she could barely walk and thought she looked like a whale.”
Lori nodded. “And stress the support system you’re putting into place. She needs to know the fort isn’t going to collapse. Tell her about your dad helping and the upcoming interviews for a new nanny.”
Solo swallowed. The plan was complicated. And it was a lot to remember. “I’m terrified she’s going to tell me it’s too late,” she whispered, her chest tightening at the thought of rejection. Was that why Janie had chosen somewhere so classy and so…public? So that Solo didn’t make a scene?
Gabe and Lori shook their heads.
“It’s never too late, buddy,” Gabe said firmly. “Not when you love each other like you two do. Now, go. Leave us with your chaos chimps and go get your wife back.”
Solo nodded. “Okay, I’m going,” she said and headed out, wishing it could be as easy as Gabe made it sound.
She got in her car and drove to the restaurant on autopilot. When the valet opened her door, she jumped like she’d forgotten where she was or how she’d gotten there. She gave him the key and tried to shake it off. She’d had a few near-dissociative episodes while she’d been on tour, and alcohol had been her answer. But she’d sworn a promise to the triplets less than a week ago that she’d stay off the hard stuff, and she wasdetermined to see that through. A beer here and there, like with her dad a couple of nights ago, didn’t count. At least, that’s what she was hoping.
The person at the tall desk just inside the building smiled. “Welcome to the Embers.”
Solo jutted her chin. “Thanks. Table for two for Rogers.” It’d been a little over a month since she’d said those words, and before that? She couldn’t even remember. When had she started taking Janie for granted? When had she stoppedseeingher?
The desk person shook their head. “Sorry, there’s no table in that name. Could it be booked under another?”
Gut punch. Maybe Janie had already stopped using their married name. “Try Evans,” she said, hoping she’d be wrong.
They tapped at their tablet again. “Ah, there you are.” They smiled and gestured beyond the curtain separating them from the main area. “Let me show you to your table.”
Solo had made sure she was Army-early to the time Janie had suggested, but she was already second-guessing herself. It just gave her more time to sit there, thinking about what bottle of hard liquor she’d order if Janie didn’t show.
“Amber will be your server this evening. Enjoy,” the desk person said before retreating back behind the curtain.
“Can I get you a drink to start?” Amber asked.
Solo looked across at the bar and its red-orange lighting that illuminated a vast array of high-end whiskey bottles, tempting her with their aesthetic. But she wasn’t really interested in how they looked. It was what was on the inside that would help her now. “Water,” she said, almost croaking the word like she’d walked an hour in a desert sandstorm.
Amber frowned and leaned closer. “Sorry, what?”
Solo glanced at her. She wasn’t sorry. Looking disinterested and bored to the point of tears, the server clearly didn’t even want to be there. “Still water, no ice. Thanks,” Solo said, louder than was necessary.
Amber’s eyebrow quirked, and she clenched her jaw for a millisecond before a practiced smile appeared. “Of course…madam.”
Solo didn’t miss the fleeting glee in Amber’s expression. She wouldn’t have minded being called sir if that was the in-joke Amber was having with herself. She’d prefer it, to be fair.
“Are you dining alone?”
Solo tamped down the desire to physically react when Amber’s lips twitched after she’d asked the question. It was Saturday night, and this was a special restaurant— She stopped her internal rant. “I guess we’ll see,” she said instead.
Amber left, and Solo placed her phone on the table, screen up so she could keep an eye on the time without constantly shoving up her sleeve to check her watch, looking like a loser. She took off her jacket reluctantly, but the open fire a few tables away made it impossible to do otherwise unless she wanted to melt onto the chair.
Amber returned with a bottle of water and a single glass, demonstrating where she was placing her bet on whether or not Janie would show. Solo thanked her without looking up from the sleek, iridescent cutlery she was shifting and straightening. The twisted rope-like metal shafts felt nice in her palm, and she didn’t want that experience ruined by another judgmental look from the zoomer. She’d just completed a spray job at the garage with a similar finish on an Aston Martin; the owner of that car wouldn’t be treated to Amber’s particular brand of hospitality, for sure.
Solo snapped her head up at the distinct clicking of heels on the stone floor. The sound was always a positive trigger, no matter who was filling the shoes, but she’d recognize the cadence of Janie’s step anywhere. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her breath caught— So predictable. She squared her shoulders and looked up just as the heels came into view.
