Page 90 of Solo

“Thank God for your neighbor.”

“Yeah, thank God for crotchety old Clinton. And his baseball bat,” she says, sounding suddenly exhausted and it occurs to me just how much she’s been through today, good and bad.

I flip her over so she’s underneath me, then place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “All right, Miss Brenner. To bed with you,” I say, getting to my feet and crossing the room to the closet for an extra blanket. “It can get a little chilly up here on the north side of the house,” I explain. “So keep this nearby, just in case…”

When I turn back, Katherine’s eyes are closed and her chest is already rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. I put the blanket over her gently and press one more kiss to her cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Katherine,” I whisper and leave the room silently, keeping the door open just an inch. Just in case.

…

Monday May 1st 11:32 a.m.

K: OMG! Just heard from police. The attorney general is indicting Kevin K for assault. It’s actually going to go to court!

D: That’s great!

K: No, it’s not.

D: What? Why not?

K: Because it’s the last thing my father needs right now. As soon as my name is brought up they’ll be all over him.

D: What are you supposed to do? Just let him get away with it?

K: No. But you don’t understand…

D: I do. This is about YOU not your father.

K: Same difference. When I was in high school, I got busted with a fake ID at a bar.

D: What?! YOU! Miss Goody Two-Shoes??? Drinking underage? I’m shocked!

K: Yeah, well that was back when I had friends. Someone recognized me and took a pic. Was in the paper the next morning. His popularity took a 5% nosedive when they accused me of being a spoiled “wild child” and him of being an absentee father.

D: And what’s all this got to do with now?

K: He doesn’t need another dip in the polls. Not if he’s going to run for POTUS.

D: You care too much, K.

K: Yeah, it’s a bad habit of mine.

Chapter Forty-Two

Kate

“No, no, no!” Russell yells so loud that I jump, dropping my arms mid-Dvořák. I turn to face him.

“What? What did I do?” I ask, palms facing skyward. This is the third time he’s stopped me in twenty minutes. I’ve seen him in a bad mood before, but this is the first time he’s ever taken it out on me.

“That transition. You’re missing it by at least half a beat, Kate,” he calls out to me on the stage from where he’s sitting out in the house seats. His arms are crossed and his snowy-white brows are drawn down in irritation.

I’m not missing anything. He knows it, and I know it. Time to figure out what the hell is going on once and for all. Still barefoot, I sit on the edge of the stage and slip off to the main floor three feet below. He doesn’t move as I approach the middle row where he’s seated. When I’m next to him, I sit down.

“What’s up?” I ask quietly.

He turns to me with as hard of a look as I’ve ever seen. It makes me wince.