by Fiona Barnes
"Yeah. Me, too," Cal answered. "Now, what time tomorrow?" She pursed her lips at her friend, as Cate had moved on to poking through Cal's makeup bag.
"You've got a lipstick you like?" Cate answered. "Oh, three."
"I do. Surely you mean P.M.?"
"Yes, I do," Cate's mischievous eyes twinkled at Cal.
"And what will we do until then?"
"I just had the strangest urge to go rollerskating," Cate told Cal. "Having you here makes me so happy."
"Let's go then," Cal told her, smiling. "Just go buy out the afternoon skate."
Cate laughed. "We'll go to dinner tonight. Somewhere fancy, okay? Then the spa tomorrow. We can lounge in the hot tub first if you want to−"
"Yes."
"Shopping−"
"Of course."
"And while you're here, you can see a show−"
"Or two−"
"When do you have to leave?"
"Early Thursday morning."
Cate knew better than to complain. The two lifelong friends would pack a blissful, energizing time into only a few short days. And despite their best effort at preparation, most of the fun would commence unplanned. Sighing luxuriously, Cate rolled onto her back, arms outstretched, and looked at her friend upside down.
"What?" Cal only commented, folding a soft pink sweatshirt. Moving toward the bureau, she paused to admire the sweet daisies that seemed to stand taller with her attention, brightening the (already happy) space.
Chapter Fifty Seven
Two days in, the girls were already sleeping late. They'd been up the night before, catching up, giggling and eating popcorn. So when the doorbell woke Cate at 9:01 a.m., she felt ready to kill.
Lifting her head from the pillow, she squinted into the day. Bright sunlight lit the room, not clearing the fog that was her head. She heard Cal groan loudly from down the hall when the bell resonated a second time. Cate couldn't hope to work the video system she'd installed for this very reason before the third intonation, so she scrambled up and out of the warm, comforting bed and threw herself down the cold hallway. Murder was on her mind. A soft afghan was around her shoulders.
Halfway down the stairs, she croaked out, "I'm coming!" Under her breath, she finished, "Don't you dare hit it again."
On the other side of the door, warm in the sunshine, Mike listened to her scurry toward him. When the door flung open, Cate earned a lazy smile, and a head to toe appraisal. Mike took in her mile-high bed head. Her sleepy, squinted eyes were full of death wishes. His own delighted, twinkling eyes stopped at the long t-shirt (very un-Cate like) that hung loose beneath the blanket she held tight underneath her chin. She looked like she'd fallen into bed on a wing and a prayer and used it hard.
Cate was getting ready to growl, wanting to slam the door in his beautiful face, when his expression suddenly changed.
"There's two," he said, almost to himself.
Cal had launched herself out of bed and followed Cate, slamming into her at the last second. Laying her chin gently on Cate's shoulder, there was duplicate destruction in Cal's expressive blue eyes.
Chapter Fifty Eight
"What did you mean there's two of us?"
Cal's eyes stared at Mike from the recesses of the couch, her chin lowered to the downy pillows. She was halfway back to sleep, finding peace quickly.
"Two beautiful women," Mike told Cal, serious. Turning back to Cate, he said, "Let's all go to brunch."
"I can't just−"
"Yes, you can just. Drink your coffee."
Cate obligingly put her nose to her cup then lifted it again. "Hey!"
Mike's smile was wicked. "Tough night, princess?"
"Shut. Up," her words were muffled through the cup as she nursed coffee, the strong smell alone aiding her. It needed more sugar this morning. It needed more caffeine. She wanted to double brew, then pass out when the crash hit.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked now.
"Somewhere we can get lost. Somewhere I won't be recognized."
Cal's fair head popped up at that. "Oh, let's go somewhere she'll be recognized. It's been too long. Let's wear funny hats and big sunglasses. Make it obvious." Her sassy speech over, she put her head back down.
"I know a place," Mike turned back to Cate. "Go shower."
Cal rose slowly and stretched. Cate agreeably stepped toward the staircase. Mike stood too, moving toward the French doors and whistling for Merry. His leather jacket creaked as he moved for the doorknob, unaware of two sets of eyes. The women stopped at the top of the stairs, appreciating the view.
"How do you−" Cal whispered.
"I don't know," Cate whispered back.
They both watched Mike hold the door for the bear-sized dog. When he turned back toward them for an instant, they both sighed noisily and tried not to giggle.
"Ladies, do you need assistance?" he called.
Choking, the girls laughed harder. "No, we're fine," they called in unison. "Thank you!"
Mike closed the door solidly behind him, stepping onto the deck and grinning to himself. He'd known he only had to find the right moment to ease Cate's hurt and confused heart. The beautiful Cal had told him all about it last week.
Chapter Fifty Nine
Cate, slightly more awake after a steamy shower, fumbled into her salon-quality bathrobe. Her feet bare, she pattered to the balcony, looking for Mike. He wasn't on the deck or in the great room.
"Find him?" Cal asked, from her doorway.
Cate just shook her head, her wet hair wrapped in a fluffy, white towel.
Cal's pretty eyes disappeared back into the room along with the rest of her.
Cate started down the back staircase, wondering where Mike had gotten to. Crossing the kitchen, she peeked into her office. Mike was seated in her leather desk chair. He was holding a sleek pair of black glasses.
"Whoa, much better," he told her. "Maybe lose the robe, though."
"And replace it with?"
Mike only raised his eyebrows slowly, meeting her eyes.
Cate stuttered, "Casual or formal?"
"Jeans are fine, no ripped t-shirts or belly rings hanging out−unless it's you."
"Dresses?"
Mike stomped on the urge to tell her what kind of dress he pictured her in, clearing his throat instead. "You wear glasses?"
"Nope. Those are there for aesthetics only." Cate felt better on more familiar ground.
"Are they really?" he asked, curious.
"Yeah, sometimes. When I can't make the font larger," Cate answered Mike's original question, turning swiftly toward the kitchen. She poured one last fresh cup of coffee. After adding raw sugar and sweet cream, Cate sipped the steamy mixture luxuriously. Mike rose and followed her into the kitchen. Leaning back against the counter next to her, he took the cup from her hand and sniffing it, sipped.
"You can't pour your own?"
"Nope."
Cate rolled her eyes and started to turn away as Mike reached for her slim wrist. Moving his thumb gently back and forth over her smooth skin, he felt her pulse pick up.
"Catie−"
She didn't speak, didn't turn, didn't move.
"Hurry up."
Chapter Sixty
The three sat at the elegant buffet. Mike picked the chair across from Cate, who sat next to Cal. After the waitress took their drink orders, Mike stood.
The women, chatting, took a minute to register.
"Always ready to eat, eh?" Cal laughed up at him.
"I'm hungry," he answered truthfully.
Cate felt a tug of sympathy. "Let's get the man some food, then."
Walking the length of the tony restaurant, they filled heated plates with creamy eggs, fresh cut fruit and crisp bacon, still sizzling. Cal stopped at the waffle bar, pondering littering raspberries and cream over the fluffy top of her meal. Mike filled a plate with oversized buttermilk pancakes. Cate added a second plate of Texas-sized muffins for the table. Concentrating on balancing each dish, she walked back to her se
at, both eyes on the appetizing collection of food she carried.
"She missed all the stares," Cal was telling Mike.
"She always does," he answered.
"What? What did I miss?" Cate settled herself, delicately sipping the pineapple juice the waitress brought her. She unfolded a linen napkin neatly and spread it across her lap.
"Your fans," Cal announced.
Cate fought the urge to spin quickly around and search the expansive room. Mike and Cal exchanged looks at Cate's expression, laughing.
"Just eat," Cate muttered.
Mike reached over and stole a piece of Cate's bacon.
Cate blew out a breath. "Every−single−time," she told Cal.
Cal replaced the missing bacon with a piece from her own plate, wiggling it in front of Cate. "I can get more. I'm not famous," she announced.
"I'm not famous." Cate looked around for the waitress. She wanted more coffee. Cal looked at Mike, her eyes laughing. Mike opened his mouth to answer, but Cate interrupted, "Change−the−subject."
The pair snickered. Cal rubbed Cate's back. "I love you," she said now.
"I love you, too," Cate answered. She was poking at a fat strawberry with her fork.
"Aw," Mike said.
"You wouldn't understand," Cate told him, the strawberry almost pierced.
"No?" He watched her work studiously. His eyes caught the waitress' movement and he raised his coffee cup, signaling three. The pretty server nodded at him and disappeared.
Cate was shaking her head, the glistening strawberry lost.
"This is your life's work?" Mike asked her as the waitress returned, holding a tray with three mugs of hot, black coffee and a small pitcher of cream. He nodded his thanks at the young woman, smiling beautifully.
Cate looked up, appreciating the smells. How did he always know? Strawberry forgotten, she pounced on the coffee. "Thank you," she told the big-eyed waitress. "Oh, thank you."
"You're going to−" Mike started.
"What? Going to what? Turn human?" Cate asked.
"That I'd like to see," Cal snorted. Mike smiled at Cate's expression, enjoying the close affection between the two women. Cal was so healing for Cate.
He wished Cate had more bacon to steal. He loved to tease her. One day soon, she'd forget all about Tom and get back to being herself if he had anything to say about it.
He rose, pushing his chair back, thinking he'd bring her a plate of the crispy meat. Then he'd spend the rest of the morning eating it for her.
Chapter Sixty One
Walking out of the restaurant with a beautiful woman smiling on each arm, Mike felt accomplished. When they ooh-ed and ah-ed over the store windows on the concourse of the tall casino, he looked too, patient.
In the open parking garage, their laughter echoed and their high heels clicked. Mike stole a glimpse of Cate. She looked more content than he'd seen her in a long time. True, she needed buckets of sleep, but that was an easy cure. Cate needed only to relax (maybe not even, today) and she'd pass out. He and Calli could knock that out on the way home, he thought, glad to have a sudden partner.
As Mike held the passenger door for the women, Cate stopped to acknowledge a passerby. Mike kept a close eye on her, hoping she didn't fall over, asleep. Calista turned before sliding into the sleek car, curious.
"She's better," Mike spoke softly, in the direction of Calli's ear.
"I know," Cal answered confidently, smiling. She had always been an expert on all things Cate. Inspired, she touched Mike's arm with one finger. "Let's take her dancing!"
"Perfect," he told her, briefly glancing at Cate before he turned his attention back to her friend. "I'll pick you two up at eight tomorrow night."
"No dinner?" Cal grinned. She could learn to like hanging out with Mike.
"Always dinner," he told her. "Make it six."
Chapter Sixty Two
Calista's visit was over too soon. Cate sat in a comfortable high-back chair while Calli packed.
"I feel like I was just here," Cate said.
"I know," Cal lamented. "We'll do it again. Let's make it a thing!"
Cate sighed. "Just stay."
"Oh, Catie−"
"Hey!" Mike called up the stairs. The women exchanged looks, listening to him hit the stairs two at a time.
"Your ride," Cate said, nodding to greet Mike. "Michael," she said to the tall, good-looking form who appeared in the doorway.
"Catherine. Calista," he answered seriously, nodding at each of them in turn. Cate looked heartbroken but rested. The two, and sometimes three, had danced, eaten, shopped and slept. Cal had gone to the city twice with Cate, sitting in on meetings and while Cate taped. The audience loved the snippet of Cate's personal life, getting a taste of only one friend this time. Cal allowed Cate to wait on her, serving her frothy drinks, pretty soups and hearty breads. Full of hair, makeup and wardrobe, Cal thought again how this life appealed to her.
Tired, the girls had returned to the state via the ever-present train, only to meet Mike for a late dinner. Cate didn't cook when she was this wiped out. She was treating herself while her friend visited. Tomorrow would be brutal though−waking up alone, vacation over. Ever since Tom had left her, Cate had had a harder time dealing with goodbyes. She was traumatized. Anyone leaving her brought it all back again.
Cate had spoken briefly to Tom, not finding the courage to ask about the weekend she'd wanted to plan. He was brusk, disinterested in her. She knew it was the disease but his treatment bruised her heart. Cal and Cate had stayed up for another late night, dissecting his behavior. Cal wanted Cate to believe in his love. Cate wasn't having it. Her hurt swapped with anger, her vulnerability paired with confusion.
Tom didn't seem to notice Cate had been occupied with Cal for a week and taping busily the week before that. He didn't seem to miss her. He didn't appear on his deck, looking for her, in the morning. If she texted him, he wouldn't always answer immediately.
Suddenly, they were strangers. Again.
That simple truth, coupled with Cal's leaving and her own repetitive and deserving exhaustion, crushed Cate.
Chapter Sixty Three
Cate and Calista were quiet as Mike pulled onto the interstate. He turned the radio up with his thumb and forefinger, hitting dials with his thumb until he stopped on Rascal Flatts.
Cal was seated in the spacious back seat. She looked out the window as scenery flew by, singing along. Her melodious voice followed the peaks of Banjo, holding the notes as if they were chocolate. Cate, in the front seat, tipped her head back, listening. Cal was so brave and full of life.
"Don't you start−" Mike stated in her direction, under his breath. He winced, imagining the playful punch that would follow. When none did, he glanced at Cate's profile. She was staring out the big window to her right.
"I'm saving it for later," she said quietly.
Calista picked that moment to shoot her head between the seats, "So−"
Cate turned to face her friend. "You've decided to stay?"
Cal laughed, "I wish I could. I forgot to warn you, Melissa said to tell you she's loaning you Mary Monday."
Cate's brain stopped for a minute, "Mary?"
"Her assistant."
"Oh, c'mon. What'll I do with her?"
"Melissa said she was great at organizing. Need anything organized?"
"I'm great at organizing," Cate sighed as Mike drove, concentrating on the busy highway. He drummed long fingers on the steering wheel in time to the stereo.
"Catie, it's not a bad thing to accept help."
"I know. I know. It's just−"
"You're a control freak−"
"Am not! Oh, you were−"
"Joking."
"I guess I don't know what to relinquish."
"Are there little jobs she could do to take the weight off? Like a sous chef," Calista explained, leaning forward. Cate tried to twist around, her seatbelt in place.
"Even if I gave her my social media, for examp
le. We figure out a rhythm as far as what I need to do personally and what she can get away with updating for me−then she'll go back to Melissa and I'll have to start all over again with someone else."
"So ask her to show the someone else once you find her."
"That's more work than it's worth."
"What, asking her?"
"No, finding someone else. I feel like it's an arduous process. In order to trust someone, I've got to allow them into my−" Here, Cate stumbled.
"No, I get it. Into your personal space, where they could muck things up."
"Not so much personal but professional. Everything has my stamp on it. How do I trust someone I don't know well to help with that? If they mess it up or just take time getting used to it and don't do it−"
"You can say 'right'. I won't call you a control freak again."
The two women swapped smiles.
"You know what I mean?" Cate asked.
"Yes. But you do have to try. Just let your fans know you're trying out assistants, ask them to help you train them. If someone sees something they don't like, you can assess whether or not you like it. Then your fans are pro-active and you get to cut yourself some slack."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Cate, it is. Why are you having trust issues? Is this about Tom?"
"No!" Cate answered immediately.
"You don't even want to think about it?"
"Why does Tom have to do with everything?" Cate groaned, facing the window again.
"Because," Cal told her, gently, "he was your husband. He's still your friend. You love him and you worry about him."
"Those things are all true. What do they have to do with trust?"
"Because he's there, then he's gone. It's the dance of PTSD and you're stuck as his partner. It's bound to sap your trust."
"I guess that's true." Cate turned to look at her friend. "How'd you get to be so smart?"
"Hanging around with you."
Calista settled back against the plush seat. Mike's eyes met Cal's in the rearview, approval dancing in them.
As Mike approached the exit, Cate swung around in her seat. "I'm going to miss you so much!"
