I flipped through the hangers, stopping on a turquoise blue monstrosity with a big taffeta bow in the middle of the chest.
Yessi fingered the fabric. “I don’t think that one will pass muster with Mark.”
“Kelly came over this morning,” I said, “and…” I stopped on another dress, this one red and vampy with a neckline down to there. How to explain to Yessi the scene Kelly had walked in on this morning? I was a nearly forty-year-old woman, who’d just started platonically shacking up with a much younger bartender I barely knew and his dog.
“And…?” Yessi prompted.
I pulled her even deeper into the racks of dresses. Satin and lace surrounded us. I couldn’t do it. I loved Yessi, and I respected her opinions, which she was all too happy to give. To everyone. She never, ever minced words. Which was why something had been bothering me. “Why did Kelly tell you about Mark and not me?”
Yessi squeezed my shoulder. “I told you. They had a legal question. It wasn’t like she came running to me the day they met or anything.” She leaned out of the rack and looked around. Then she returned to me. “I don’t think she would’ve told me if she didn’t have to.”
“What’s going on with her?”
Yessi sighed. “I’ve been talking to Polly about this, and she just thinks that friendships change, and sometimes they run their course and end.” She shrugged, her eyes glassy. “Maybe Kelly is done with us, and she’s pushing us away now to make the eventual break easier.”
My lip started quivering, so I bit it. “That can’t be it,” I said. “I mean, we’re here right now. She asked us to be in her wedding.”
“It could be the swan song for our friendship.” She pulled me into a hug. “I know it sucks, but what can you do?”
I straightened up, knocking her off me. I wiped my eyes. “Well, I’m not going to do nothing. We’ve been friends for twenty years, and she doesn’t get to throw that all away for some wine guy from the middle of nowhere.”
I marched toward the dressing rooms, grabbing every maroon-ish dress I could find on the way. Kelly and Kendall sat on the couch together, looking intently through a book of dresses. “Kelly,” I said, draping the dresses I’d found over the back of the nearest chair. “I’m sorry I moved your things without telling you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She blinked. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“You still always have a room in my house. It may not be the same room—”
Buzz!
“It may not be the same room—”
Buzz again.
“That’s your phone, Annie,” Kelly said.
“No,” I said, “let me finish this.”
Buzz!
“Damn it.” I reached into my purse and found my phone. A patient had a question about a persistent fever. “I have to call them, but we’ll finish our conversation in a minute.”
“No, Annie.” Kelly’s eyes dropped back down to the dress book. “We won’t. We never do.”
Chapter Twenty
Singin’ in the Brain
“Have you ever been in a wedding?” I asked Dax as I wrote our team name—Dorothy and the Tin Man—across the tops of our answer sheets.
“You mean, have I ever been a groomsman?” He sipped his beer. “No.”
“Well, this is my third time,” I told him, “and it’s…um…interesting to see your friends’ personalities really come out under this kind of stress. I mean, I get it, I suppose, but I also think, why put yourself through the hassle?”
Kelly had made us try on practically every dress in the store, and she looked miserable the entire time. If the two of us had been in a better place, I would have pulled her aside, hugged her, and told her that the wedding would be great, with or without maroon lingerie dresses. But I was smart enough to recognize how that would’ve been received. I could do nothing right around her these days.
I checked my phone to make sure it was on vibrate. I’d managed to make it through the last few trivia nights without any patient interruptions, but one could happen at any moment. That was my life. People made sacrifices for their careers all the time. At least I knew Dax could handle things, trivia-wise, if I had to leave and make a call.
“People like to celebrate with their friends and family,” Dax said.
“Sure,” I said, “I suppose I understand why people like having weddings, but the only reason I’d ever throw one would be to return the favor to all my friends.” I popped a peanut into my mouth.
“Like in 27 Dresses.” Dax checked his phone before shoving it back into his pocket.
“Excuse me, what did you just say?” I blinked rapidly, processing the words that had just come out of his mouth.
He glanced up. “The movie 27 Dresses. Have you never seen it?”
“Of course I’ve seen it,” I said. “Have you?”
He shrugged. “Who hasn’t?”
“Many people.” Darius, for one. But here was my young, hip roomie, using 27 Dresses to teach a life lesson. “You just referenced a rom-com in real life. I’ve never felt closer to you.”
Laughing, he rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the Cubs game on the TV behind my head.
“I saw an absolutely ridiculous turquoise taffeta monstrosity at the bridal shop the other day. I could make my friends wear that.”
He grabbed a handful of nuts. “Did one of those guys you texted propose?”
“Well, kind of.”
His eyes slowly lowered to mine. “What? Really?”
I sipped my drink. I hadn’t told anyone—outside of Rob and Darius, of course—about my current romantic situation, so why not start with the near-stranger who lived in my basement? “So, you remember our conversation after I realized I sent those texts?”
He nodded, shrugging.
“Well, I went to my mom’s house the next day and had a chat with her neighbor—this guy Rob I grew up with. We both thought, well, we’re single, we know each other, we know each other’s families…” I shrugged. “Why not give it a shot?”
“Marriage?”
I nodded. “Marriage.”
“Well,” Dax said, “sounds like you have a long history with this guy, so it’s not so out of the bl—”
“But then Darius Carver came to my office.”
He held up a hand to stop. “Darius Carver? News guy Darius Carver?”
“Yup,” I said. “He’s doing a piece on me.”
“Man on Main Street Darius Carver is doing a piece on you?” I couldn’t tell if the look on Dax’s face represented bewilderment or admiration.
“Yeah,” I said jokingly. “I’m a big deal, Dax. Keep up.”
“Sure you are—go on.”
“I’d also sent the text to Darius, and he thought, since we were both in similar places financially and in our dating lives, that maybe we should be pragmatic and make a commitment to each other.”
“Do you know him?” Dax’s brow furrowed.
“We’ve been on a date.”
“Oh, well then,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m almost forty, Dax. Last call’s coming. Time to pair up and move on.”
“That is…depressing.”
That was…really rude. Dax had no idea what it was like to be pushing middle age, watching all your friends couple up and settle down. I was in fish-or-cut-bait territory.
At that moment, Ronald, more animated than usual, grabbed the mic. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” His voice boomed through O’Leary’s Barn. “Welcome to the first ever Windy City Trivia Championship tournament!”
The entire pub erupted in applause. Peter, behind the bar, enthusiastically rang the cowbell.
“It’s not depressing,” I told Dax. “It’s being realistic. You’ll understand someday.”
“I hope I don’t.”
“Here’s how the tournament works,” Ronald said. “Tonight, all across the city, at twenty different bars, teams will compete at the exact same time with the exact same set of questions. At the end of the night, we’ll add up the total scores and show you the leaderboard. During the final week, the top three teams will compete in a one-night, winner-takes-all championship held here in O’Leary’s Barn.”
“We’re going to win this,” I said, my eyes firmly on Ronald, as a rush of adrenaline coursed through me. I’d never win a beauty contest. I didn’t have measurable talents that could bring me trophies or fame. But, damn it, I knew useless facts.
Ronald watched the big, new digital clock he’d placed on the stage behind him. “I assume you all know the general rules—the most important being ‘no phones.’ If we catch you with your phone out, you will be disqualified…and…” His eyes grew intense, and he looked out at all of us. “Grab your answer sheet for round one.”
The sound of rustling papers cut through the chatter in the bar, and a feeling of déjà vu hit me. This moment of utter focus and collective concentration mentally and emotionally transported me back to college and med school, right before a huge exam. My palms sweated, and my stomach whirled. Game time, Annie. Let’s do this.
“Our first round is geography,” Ronald said.
“Good.” I readied my pen. “I’m killer at geography,” I told Dax.
“In honor of the first—hopefully annual—Windy City Trivia Tournament, our initial round will be all about other cities and their nicknames. When I say go, write the name of the city next to its corresponding nickname. And…” A list of questions popped up on the screen behind Ronald. “Go!”
Dax scooted closer to me, and, for a moment before I blocked it out, his spicy scent went up my nostrils. I concentrated hard on the questions at hand. No time to be noticing anyone’s cologne, Annie. It’s time to kick ass and take names.
Dax pointed to the first line. “Indianapolis.”
I wrote that down.
“Number two, Baltimore. Number three, Seattle.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I was writing as fast as I could. Dax continued to rattle off the answers—Milwaukee and New York and Detroit and Louisville. And I was supposed to be the geography buff.
Soon we only had two left, and I’d barely taken a look at the list to check his answers.
“Queen City…” he said, thinking. “That sounds familiar…”
A lightbulb went on in my head. “It’s Cincinnati,” I whispered.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I told him.
“Okay, what about Bluff City?”
I tapped the pencil against my cheek, thinking. “Bluff City,” I kept repeating to myself. “Bluff City,” like somehow the answer would come to me.
After a moment, Dax snapped his fingers as if his own mental lamp had illuminated his mind. He snatched the pencil and paper from me and wrote down “Memphis.”
“You sure?” I asked, a residual tingle from his hand brushing against mine still clouding my mind.
“Like, eighty-seven percent.”
I shrugged. “That’s better than I’ve got.”
He, suddenly looking a lot like nerdy me back in high school, jumped up and ran our paper to Ronald at the front of the bar.
Ronald chuckled. “It’s not a race.”
Grinning, Dax came back to our table and sank into his seat. “I officially get it now,” he said.
“What do you get?” I smiled back, relishing the moment.
“This.” He waved a hand around the room, indicating the dozens of people still poring over their answer sheets. “This is quite a rush.”
“Well,” I said, grinning at him, “wait until we win. Then you’ll really know what a nerd high feels like.”
His eyes darkened. “Hey, can I say something, probably out of bounds?”
My stomach went queasy. “Yeah, okay.”
He focused on a spot over my head—maybe the TV, maybe nothing. “Marriage?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Do it for the right reasons, okay?”
I thought I was, or at least I was doing it for my right reasons, but all I said was, “Okay.”
“Good.” He looked down at me, and the nerdy geek in him had returned. He leaned across the table and whispered, “When I took up our answer sheet, I accidentally saw the next category.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s cheating!”
“It’s taking advantage of an opportunity,” he said. “What do you know about Martin Scorsese movies?”
“Oh my god, so much!” And the two of us volleyed back and forth, jogging each other’s memories about Raging Bull, The Departed, Hugo, Goodfellas, and more.
…
“Dorothy and the Tin Man!” Dax lifted his water glass.
I clinked mine against it. “Dorothy and the Tin Man!” I repeated and sipped my refreshing beverage, which Dax had thoughtfully flavored with lemon.
Brad sauntered over from the Very Stable Geniuses’ table. “It appears you two are ahead of us by one point in the tournament,” he said, offering his hand.
I shook it firmly, like a boss. “Good game, Brad.”
“We’ll get you next week.”
“No, he won’t,” Dax muttered, eyes lowered in a glower, as Brad walked away.
I chuckled. “You really are riding that nerd high.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“Sure you are. I like Trivia Dax.”
He rolled his eyes and looked away, but I caught a smile on his usually too-serious face.
I couldn’t help grinning. I hadn’t felt this good in days. Using my brain power like this really put me in a state of flow. It did the same to Dax, I could tell, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
Proof? Almost as quickly as he turned away from me, he swung back and offered me his fist to bump. “Dude, way to get that bonus question in the TV round. That was clutch.”
My chest puffed up. (I decided to ignore the fact that he called me “dude”—at least it was better than “ma’am.”) In the TV round, I’d figured out after only a few answers that the one thing all the actors listed had in common was that they’d played boyfriends on Sex and the City. It helped us narrow down our choices for the other answers, and Dax and I ended up the only team with a perfect score that round. “Yeah, well,” I said, sipping my beer, “that was right in my wheelhouse. Wait until they give us a category about YouTubers, and then you’ll see Grandma fail.”
“Well, that will be fun to witness, anyway.”
I stood and hoisted my purse over my shoulder. “Should we head…home?” My brow furrowed. That still felt weird to say. I didn’t even know this guy’s last name, and he was living in my basement.
“Sure.” Grabbing his backpack (he used a backpack), Dax waved to Peter behind the bar, and the two of us headed out onto the street. The air outside had cooled a bit since earlier that evening. And just as it occurred to me that rain had been in the forecast for tonight, a big, sloppy drop landed right on the tip of my nose.
“How’s the basement working out?” I asked, wiping it away. We were only two blocks from my house—plenty of time to get home before we got drenched.
“It’s great, thanks.” He offered nothing more than that. The trivia magic had worn off.
I wouldn’t allow us to walk the route home in silence. I couldn’t do that. “When I bought the place, I gutted the entire building and fixed up the basement as an apartment for my mom. But she refuses to leave her house.”
Nothing.
“So, I’m glad someone is putting it to good use.”
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging.
Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to pile all my emotional baggage on Dax tonight, but I was not in the mood to let the guy I’d allowed
to stay in my house out of the kindness of my heart not talk to me on our walk home.
He’d just have to suck it up and be my friend, because I was in the market for one.
I opened my mouth to tell him as much when a loud crack of thunder cut through the night and the sky opened up.
“Oh my god!” I squealed, taking off running as the torrent of water hit my head and back.
“Annie, wait!” Dax yelled, laughing, behind me.
I spun around, the rain sloshing against my tennis shoes and soaking my socks. I raised my arms to the air in surrender and waited for Dax as he strolled toward me, rummaging through his backpack like he had all the time in the world. He triumphantly extracted an umbrella, opened it, and handed it to me.
“That’s okay,” I said, “I’m already saturated. I don’t think I can possibly get any wetter.”
“Well, I’m still going to use it,” he said. “You can join me, if you want.”
He lifted the small black umbrella over his head as the droplets beaded across the fabric and rolled to the ground. It’d be silly of me not to take him up on it. What was I going to do, walk home next to him, getting drenched, while a perfectly good umbrella was within reach? I ducked my head shyly and fell into step next to him. Our wet upper arms rubbed against each other, and I took note for the first time of one of his tattoos—a perfect sketch of a single rose near his wrist.
“That’s pretty,” I said.
He glanced down at me, blinking. A few raindrops had gotten stuck in his long, dark eyelashes. “What is?”
I pointed to his arm. “The rose.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” He turned his arm awkwardly, as if attempting to hide the flower from view. “I’m going to get that one covered up.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because what’s important to you when you’re eighteen sometimes isn’t so important when you’re twenty-seven.”
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