Chapter 28 #2
“That’s the first time I’ve sung in public since…” Since when? High school. The choir at St. Brendan’s. Something else she’d never told Daniel. Not that it was a secret, it was just already part of her past by the time she met him, something she rarely thought about.
There was so much she hadn’t told him in those seven months they were together, and just as much he’d never told her. And now there were two whole extra years they didn’t know about each other.
“Since when?”
“I was in the choir at my church for a few months, sophomore year of high school. But—it’s not a deep dark secret and it’s not sad or anything, but I’d rather hear about you now, Daniel. I want to know all about your life.”
She didn’t say, I want to be part of it , even though she did—so desperately that it burned.
“You want to know the truth?” She nodded. “Look over there, see them with the same shirts I’m wearing?” She nodded again. “That’s been my whole life, from the week after I graduated until five minutes ago when I saw you in here.”
Was he saying what she thought he was? That he’d been alone all this time, he didn’t have a girlfriend, he hadn’t been with anyone at all?
“I can’t believe that.” Except she did believe it. It was equally true of her, wasn’t it?
He shrugged. “I mean, I’ve made friends at work, but—but that’s it.
I share an apartment with Jeff from accounting, I get into the office by eight, I get home at six, most nights I bring work home or if not I sort of half-watch TV, and on weekends I do laundry and go to the grocery store and if Jeff harasses me enough maybe I go to a baseball game with him or something. ”
She reached over, grabbed his hands. “That—I don’t mean this how it’s going to sound—that sucks, Daniel. You deserve so much better.”
He almost laughed, but it came out more like a sigh. “Yeah, that’s what Bianca says, too. And my mother thinks it, I can tell, but she won’t say it. Dad just asks how much money I’m saving up and if I’ve gotten a promotion yet.”
What if it hadn’t been that way? What if she’d followed him to Chicago when he graduated? She could have transferred schools—there were a ton of good colleges there. Northwestern had a great journalism program.
Instead of saying goodbye when she gave him the necklace, she could have asked him to marry her, right there on the quad. He would have said yes.
No, he wouldn’t have.
He wouldn’t have let her uproot herself and change all her plans just for him. No matter how much it would have gutted him to say no to her. And he’d do the same now, if she suggested it.
“You should listen to Bianca. And me. There’s more to life…” Her voice caught, and she looked away from him. “What the hell am I saying? It’s exactly the same for me. Work, home, bring work home, errands. Except I don’t even have Jeff from accounting.”
Now he did laugh. “You’re not missing much there.”
“Maybe not. But you know what I’m saying. Why are we both like this? Why are we both alone? Did we ruin each other for anybody else that much?”
Daniel , an hour later
“You realize your team has been watching us this whole time,” Nora said.
“I figured,” Daniel agreed. “But I’d rather spend this time with you. I’ve got eight hours a day, five days a week to spend with them.” More like nine or ten hours, really, which just proved his point all the more.
“I was at your booth this morning. They said you were at first aid, helping—I assume the girl you were with when you got here?”
Of course Nora came by. “Yeah. Red sprained her ankle. I wasn’t going to let her hop all the way across the show floor by herself.”
Nora clinked her glass to his—their third Mariah-garita each, which he was pretty sure he’d be regretting in the morning. So much for one-drink-only tonight. “That’s my Daniel. Always the hero.” But then she raised her eyebrows. “But what’s the deal with calling her Red? Doesn’t she have a name?”
He laughed. “She’s Kristin. And so is the one in blue sitting next to her.” He told Nora the story of their inability to come up with a suitable way to differentiate themselves, and his solution to the problem.
“Wow,” she said, when he finished, barely able to control her giggles. “That’s hilarious. The perfect solution. But I bet they both hate it.” She paused. “Which makes it even better. It’s so annoying it’ll force them to come up with something better for themselves.”
Daniel hadn’t considered that, but it made sense. They’d probably do that once they got back to Chicago. “They’re putting up with it for now. I think they’re just taking pity on me because this is my first time leading a team.”
Nora wasn’t laughing anymore. “Daniel, I would have thought you’d be able to give yourself a little credit by now.
I don’t think any of them are taking pity on you.
I think they all see you’re a fantastic Team Leader.
Your booth looked great, you were taking care of the people under you when they needed it, and you came up with a creative solution for a problem nobody else could solve.
When are you going to start seeing in the mirror what everybody else sees in you? ”
She was holding his hands; when had she put her drink down to grab them?
That was just dodging her question. He owed her an answer. More important, he owed himself one.
“I do see it—sometimes. There are moments. Flashes. When I got picked to lead the team. When I got the St. Louis contract three months ago.” When he’d officially gotten the interview with QNS, January of his senior year, and he’d asked out Valerie.
“Who’s Valerie?”
He felt himself blushing. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Nora nodded. “She was—I guess you didn’t know. Valerie’s the one girl I dated after we broke up.”
Nora , a moment later
Nora had known. Not the name, and not for certain. But Kim had told her about the blonde girl—woman—who’d been in the Ellis Hall lab all the time, almost always with Daniel sitting next to her.
She’d made a point of avoiding the building, so she wouldn’t have to see for herself.
Well, now she knew. But she could hardly blame him, when she’d been dating Ben at the exact same time.
“What happened with her?”
“We—we only dated a few weeks,” he said.
He wasn’t looking away from her, but she wouldn’t have expected otherwise.
Daniel had always been honest, even when it was something painful.
“She helped me practice for my interview. And she was—this won’t make sense, it doesn’t to me.
She was totally different from you, but everything I liked about her was something I loved about you. ”
It made perfect sense.
“But we broke up the day I got the letter—the letter with the job offer. I had her come back to my dorm—I needed somebody to be with me when I opened the letter, and when I did, and I read it…”
Nora didn’t need him to say what came next. Except, she did, because she was clearly missing something here. “Wait. That’s when you broke up with her?”
“We kissed—I mean, really kissed, and then we were on my bed, and—and she wanted to. And I wanted to. But I couldn’t.” He paused, took a deep breath. “Because she wasn’t you.”
The same reason she hadn’t slept with Ben. “I couldn’t, either,” she muttered.
And then Daniel truly shocked her. She would have spit out her drink if it had been in her mouth. “Of course you didn’t. Valerie totally isn’t your type.” It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said it completely deadpan.
When she finally stopped laughing and collected herself, she said, “You really have changed. You finally have a decent sense of humor.”
“Well, I’m working on it. But,” he said, “I know what you really meant. The same thing happened to you, didn’t it?”
So she told him—about Ben, about that last night in his apartment, about how close she’d come and why she couldn’t go through with it.
“I think you were right, what you said a while ago. We definitely ruined each other for anybody else.”
She wished he was wrong. But, really, when had Daniel ever been wrong about anything important?
Daniel , an hour later
After their mutual confessions, neither of them said much for a while, other than joking about the mostly dreadful performances on stage.
It was like they were back in college, back in his dorm room, just being together without having to do or say anything.
He remembered everything about Nora, but he’d forgotten how much he missed the times like these. Comfortable. Safe.
Not in the boring way people usually meant it—safe with Nora had always been the best kind of safe.
“Oh, boy,” Nora said, breaking the latest silence.
Daniel saw what she was talking about—the two Kristins were making their way up to the stage, Red leaning on Blue as she gingerly hopped her way across the floor.
They huddled with the emcee for a moment, then, when he handed them microphones, Red pointed directly at him.
“This one is for our Team Leader. Here’s to you, Daniel! ”
Then the music came up. He recognized the song, and felt himself blush. This was completely unnecessary and deeply embarrassing—and kind of the nicest thing anyone had done for him all year.
“Go up with them!”
He shook his head. “They don’t need any more encouragement.” His co-workers were belting out—with a lot of enthusiasm and not much talent— Holding Out For a Hero .
“You’re right,” Nora said. “What they need is voice lessons.”
Embarrassing as it was, Daniel couldn’t help but be touched. They actually did respect him; they saw him as a leader because of who he was, not just because Mr. Kincaid appointed him. They wouldn’t be teasing him like this if they didn’t.
Just like Nora always teased him, with not just love but respect.
It came to him then. It was silly, and he’d make a fool of himself on stage, but Nora would love it. He was pretty sure he’d seen the perfect song in the songbook when he’d been dragged up there a couple of hours ago.
“Get ready,” he told her. “We’re going up next, Nora.”
Nora , three minutes later
It was a good thing she didn’t gamble. Nora would have bet everything she owned that Daniel Keller would never, ever voluntarily go up on stage at a karaoke bar.
But here he was, the songbook in one hand, his other hand clutching hers tightly.
“That’s it,” he was telling the emcee. “Number 204.”
The emcee clapped his hands. “I love it! You’ll bring the house down.”
“Are you going to tell me what we’re singing?”
Daniel shook his head. “You’ll see.”
“How do I know what my part is?”
“You’ll know.” This was a whole new side to him. She didn’t have a clue what song he’d picked.
And then the microphone was in her hand, and the music started. “I don’t believe you!” It was brilliant—and, again, something she would never in a million years have guessed he would pick.
Daniel launched straight into the first verse of Don’t You Want Me , looking her in the eye as he sang.
His voice was—well, it was pretty bad, honestly, but it was loud and clear.
She didn’t know how he wasn’t laughing his head off as he sang about pulling her out of a cocktail bar and how easy success was for her.
Then her verse came, and she didn’t need to follow the words on the screen; how many times had she heard this on the radio back in high school?
She didn’t expect to hear her voice break when she sang about still loving him, or for him to hug her when it happened.
When they got to the end, she did expect his kiss, and she returned it, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t hearing the crowd or the emcee or anything else as they stood up there on the stage wrapped up in each other, any more than she did.