Chapter 9
Solo took her dark denim jacket from the chair in her bedroom and pulled it on.
It usually gave her comfort and confidence, but tonight, it was like donning armor for battle.
She adjusted the collar of the crisp, white button-down shirt, the starched fabric stiff against her skin, and undid the top button beneath her tie.
She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror Janie had insisted on buying and almost laughed at herself.
With her hair neatly cropped and wearing her best pair of perfectly tailored black dress pants and highly polished boots, this was her go-to wife uniform, her most confident, masc presentation, and the outfit Janie liked her in—and out of—the most. Could Solo hope that it might have the same effect on her tonight?
She slipped her wallet and phone into her inside pockets and headed downstairs.
The living room still resembled a colorful, cushioned warzone.
The triplets, fresh from their afternoon nap, were each involved in their own interesting project.
Tia was testing the structural integrity of the large cardboard box that had housed her granddad’s new bedframe, while he sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to corral them all and keep them in his line of sight at all times.
She smiled. He really hadn’t known what he was getting himself into when he’d upended his life and moved in with them.
Caring for three eighteen-month-old girls was proving to be a highly specialized field, one he hadn’t been anywhere near for over three decades.
But he wouldn’t be doing it alone for long if the nanny agency could come up with better candidates than the one who’d left her in the lurch just before Janie had gone.
“Chloe, the crayons are for paper. Remember?” He pulled at the edge of a roll of drawing paper until Chloe had four feet of canvas to create on.
“Pop!” Chloe shouted, cheerly smearing her purple crayon across the chest of his crisp white T-shirt.
The knock at the front door stopped Solo from responding, and she heard it open. The comforting sounds of laughter and familiar voices drifted into the house, and Solo’s anxiety dialed down a notch. Gabe’s mere presence had affected her that way for nearly fifteen years now.
“The cavalry has arrived.” Gabe stepped over an array of discarded toys, which looked like they’d been carefully arranged into an assault course designed to fell adults, and bro-hugged Solo.
She thought she’d stayed stiff as she tried to borrow some of Gabe’s strength but knew she’d failed when Gabe pulled away and looked at her like she was trying to see into her soul.
“You okay, buddy?” Gabe asked, frowning.
Solo tried for a convincing smile. “Sure thing.” She avoided Gabe’s continued gaze and glanced around Gabe’s bulk to wave at Lori. “Hey. You brought supplies?” She gestured toward the paper bag Lori was carrying.
Lori laughed, and her eyes sparkled. “I figured we’d all have our hands full and be too busy to attempt cooking tonight.”
“Thank God.” Her dad sighed. “You’re an angel.”
Lori tiptoed around the debris of the afternoon’s playtime. “I’ll take this to the kitchen and serve it up. Hannah, you look great.”
The compliment lifted Solo’s spirits, as any compliment from a woman as gorgeous as Lori was bound to do, no matter how shitty she felt inside. She smiled genuinely.
“Hey, spider monkey.” Gabe intercepted Tia, who had abandoned her destruction of the cardboard fortress she’d built and decided Gabe’s leg was the next thing to conquer.
She held her aloft with one hand, and Tia made a delighted squeal while she wiggled her arms and legs as if she was pretending to fly. Gabe clapped her other hand on Solo’s shoulder, heavy and reassuring.
“She’s going to be there, right?” Solo whispered. “She said yes. She’ll show up, right?”
Gabe inclined her head slightly. “Janie loves you, and she loves these girls. This could never be a breakup. It’s just a time-out because you’ve been a naughty wife.”
Her crooked smile and teasing tone helped Solo to breathe a little easier. “Right.” She nodded. “Bad wife.”
Gabe squeezed Solo’s shoulder. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan is to apologize over and over for letting her down. Tell her I’m in therapy, and that I’m working on being the mature, adult wife she needs. And promise her that she’ll be my priority again. Like she was when we met.”
“Good.” Gabe released Solo and punched her shoulder hard enough to rock her back on her heels a little. “What else? Don’t just focus on the bad and what’s gone wrong, remember?”
Solo nodded. “Right. I’ll convince her that my neglect wasn’t from a lack of love,” she said, hoping she’d remember all the stuff she’d been rehearsing the whole day. “I need to remind her how good we are together and what we’ve built, why we said ‘I do’ in the first place.”
“Perfect.” Gabe held Tia over her head one-handed, almost touching her to the ceiling, and Lori gasped as she came back into the living room.
“Are you trying to give Hannah a heart attack before she leaves?” Lori reached up to retrieve Tia, but her outstretched arms barely reached Gabe’s elbow.
Gabe grasped Lori’s wrist and twisted her around in one fluid movement so that she nestled into Gabe’s body. God, she was smooth. If Janie was married to Gabe, she wouldn’t have left. But Gabe wouldn’t have neglected her either.
“It’s a test,” Gabe said. “Solo’s got to pop the bubble wrap and let other people help take care of the girls, so she can concentrate more on keeping her wife happy.” She kissed the top of Lori’s head. “Like I’m learning how to keep you happy.”
Solo scoffed. “Looks like you’re a natural. But it was me who said you’d fall in love with a woman you rescued on the road.”
“Maybe.” Gabe grinned. “But I don’t have that Hallmark movie subscription like you do.”
Lori tipped her head back and looked up at Gabe adoringly. “That’s because we’re too busy—”
Solo put her finger to her lips. “My babies don’t need to hear that.” She glanced over her shoulder at her dad. “And neither does he.”
Gabe wiggled her eyebrows. “Anyway, back to the plan. Remind Janie that you didn’t see her just as the incubator to your tiny terrors. Remind her you were obsessed with her even when she could barely walk and thought she looked like a whale.”
Lori nodded. “And stress the support system you’re putting into place. She needs to know the fort isn’t going to collapse. Tell her about your dad helping and the upcoming interviews for a new nanny.”
Solo swallowed. The plan was complicated. And it was a lot to remember. “I’m terrified she’s going to tell me it’s too late,” she whispered, her chest tightening at the thought of rejection. Was that why Janie had chosen somewhere so classy and so…public? So that Solo didn’t make a scene?
Gabe and Lori shook their heads.
“It’s never too late, buddy,” Gabe said firmly. “Not when you love each other like you two do. Now, go. Leave us with your chaos chimps and go get your wife back.”
Solo nodded. “Okay, I’m going,” she said and headed out, wishing it could be as easy as Gabe made it sound.
She got in her car and drove to the restaurant on autopilot.
When the valet opened her door, she jumped like she’d forgotten where she was or how she’d gotten there.
She gave him the key and tried to shake it off.
She’d had a few near-dissociative episodes while she’d been on tour, and alcohol had been her answer.
But she’d sworn a promise to the triplets less than a week ago that she’d stay off the hard stuff, and she was determined to see that through.
A beer here and there, like with her dad a couple of nights ago, didn’t count. At least, that’s what she was hoping.
The person at the tall desk just inside the building smiled. “Welcome to the Embers.”
Solo jutted her chin. “Thanks. Table for two for Rogers.” It’d been a little over a month since she’d said those words, and before that? She couldn’t even remember. When had she started taking Janie for granted? When had she stopped seeing her?
The desk person shook their head. “Sorry, there’s no table in that name. Could it be booked under another?”
Gut punch. Maybe Janie had already stopped using their married name. “Try Evans,” she said, hoping she’d be wrong.
They tapped at their tablet again. “Ah, there you are.” They smiled and gestured beyond the curtain separating them from the main area. “Let me show you to your table.”
Solo had made sure she was Army-early to the time Janie had suggested, but she was already second-guessing herself. It just gave her more time to sit there, thinking about what bottle of hard liquor she’d order if Janie didn’t show.
“Amber will be your server this evening. Enjoy,” the desk person said before retreating back behind the curtain.
“Can I get you a drink to start?” Amber asked.
Solo looked across at the bar and its red-orange lighting that illuminated a vast array of high-end whiskey bottles, tempting her with their aesthetic.
But she wasn’t really interested in how they looked.
It was what was on the inside that would help her now.
“Water,” she said, almost croaking the word like she’d walked an hour in a desert sandstorm.
Amber frowned and leaned closer. “Sorry, what?”
Solo glanced at her. She wasn’t sorry. Looking disinterested and bored to the point of tears, the server clearly didn’t even want to be there. “Still water, no ice. Thanks,” Solo said, louder than was necessary.
Amber’s eyebrow quirked, and she clenched her jaw for a millisecond before a practiced smile appeared. “Of course…madam.”
Solo didn’t miss the fleeting glee in Amber’s expression. She wouldn’t have minded being called sir if that was the in-joke Amber was having with herself. She’d prefer it, to be fair.
“Are you dining alone?”