She rests her forehead on her knees. Fuck, I don’t want her to feel bad. She didn’t do anything wrong.
I take a tentative step into her room. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Where?”
“Karaoke bar.”
Her eyes widen. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes.” I grin. “It’s too tense here. You need to have some fun.”
“I don’t sing in public.”
“You do tonight.” I back toward the door. “I’ll call our driver. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Evan,” she draws the first syllable of my name, and I love it.
“Now you only have nine-and-a-half minutes.” I close the door before she can argue.
Thirty minutes later—because she took longer than ten to get ready—we leave for the karaoke bar.
The venue is packed with the Friday night crowd. Drinks flow from the bar while someone on stage murders a classic rock song.
Tania stops in the doorway. “This is a terrible idea.”
“This is a great idea.” I take her hand and guide her through the crowd.
We grab a table in the back. It’s not too close to the stage, but close enough that I can drag her up there when the time comes.
I order drinks. She downs half of hers in one go.
“Nervous?” I lean back in my chair.
A smile spreads across her lips. “Terrified.”
“Good. We’re conquering fears tonight.”
She glares at me, but she’s still smiling.
The current singer finishes to polite applause. The host calls for the next volunteer.
I gesture toward the stage. “Your turn.”
“No.”
“Come on. One song.”
“I can’t.” And I can see she is not ready to get in front of the crowd.
“I’ll go first.” I stand before she can protest. “But you’re next.”
I head to the stage, grab the mic, and pick something upbeat. I’m terrible. But I play it up—dancing badly, pointing at random people in the crowd, and making eye contact with Tania, winking.
She’s laughing. She’s covering her face with her hands, but she’s laughing.
When I finish, the crowd cheers. I take a bow and head back to the table.
“Your turn, Wifey.”
