Chapter 28
Karaoke—Kansas City, MO
The karaoke bar was right in between a diner and a used bookshop. “Of course it would be,” Nora muttered to herself.
Annette gave her a look.
“Sorry, just talking to myself.” It was like a tour of memories with Daniel; the day at Turn the Page when she’d read out loud from that ridiculous romance novel with him on the other side of a bookshelf, and the night a couple of weeks later at the Green Lantern Café where they’d had their first date.
Even if he was somehow at the conference—which of course he wasn’t, why couldn’t she just accept reality already?—what were the odds that he’d be here to listen to terrible karaoke?
No. She needed to forget about him, and just enjoy tonight for what it was. The past was the past. They’d each made a promise, but if he even remembered his, it wouldn’t come true for another eight years.
“Come on, Nora. There’s a table over there, by the window.” Nora let Annette lead her over, and she let her order the drinks, too. “Two Mariah-garitas,” Annette told the waitress, then she looked over at Nora. “Salt?” Nora nodded. “Salt for both. Thanks!”
Nora thought she knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “What exactly is a Mariah-garita?”
“According to the sign by the door, it’s a margarita with extra drama.
” That was pretty much what she’d guessed.
The name went with the décor—lighting that was just a touch too soft, neon musical notes on the walls in garish colors and a stage that was too small—surely to force groups of singers to huddle together for maximum embarrassment.
Still, it could be worse. She was out for a fun evening with someone who wanted her there—when was the last time she could say that?
Their drinks came just as the first act of the night went up on stage.
It was one of the junior Microsoft reps who’d run yesterday’s Windows NT demo.
He sang—well, tried to sing— Video Killed the Radio Star.
Honestly, it was less singing and more howling, sort of like a cat getting chased up a tree by foxes.
But everyone clapped when he was done anyway. Or maybe because he was done.
Nora glanced out the window, just in time to see a taxi stop at the curb outside, and a man get out.
A slim, dark-haired man with the prettiest eyes. A man who looked exactly like Daniel.
Because… he was Daniel.
She didn’t even register the glass slipping from her fingers until it hit the floor and shattered. All she could see was him .
Daniel , one minute later
Just for an instant, when he got out of the cab, but before he turned around to help Red out, he thought he saw someone in the window. Someone dark-blonde and beautiful, shining green-blue eyes and a smile on her face.
But it wasn’t Nora. Obviously it wasn’t.
She was—he didn’t know where she was living or working now, but she couldn’t be here at the conference, at this bar.
He didn’t know why he was obsessing about her all week, but it had to stop.
He had a job to do, a team to lead and right now a couple of hours to just relax and watch other people embarrass themselves while he had exactly one drink.
“Here you go, Red, I’ve got you.” She grabbed his arm, balanced herself on her good ankle, and then put an arm around him.
Why couldn’t he think about someone like her instead? Not Red herself, obviously, or Blue, or anyone back in the office in Chicago.
Dad had drilled it into him, and so had Dad’s boss. And Lisa. And Bianca. And about a million movies and TV shows. Never date anyone at work—it was a recipe for disaster. And even more so now that he was a Team Lead.
But why not someone like her? He could go out with Jeff, or with other guys from the office, and maybe meet someone that way. Or there were the personal ads in the paper. Or even church. There was a Catholic church three blocks from his apartment. That was still a way to meet people, wasn’t it?
There were countless things he could do to meet an actual girl, rather than losing himself in memories of someone who—no matter how amazing she was—he hadn’t seen in over two years. And wouldn’t see again for another eight, if they both kept their promise.
Except, the moment he stepped inside the bar, he saw her, right here and now, not twenty feet away.
It was her. Nora. In the flesh.
She sat at a table by the window, with a shorter, redheaded woman. Just like the first time he ever properly saw her, in the Green Lantern Café sitting with her freshman roommate.
She turned and saw him. Their eyes met. And the expression on her face, a mix of confusion and fear and a dozen other things he couldn’t even guess, changed instantly, and she smiled. That smile. The one she only ever showed to him.
If he hadn’t been holding poor Red up, he would have run to her. But he had just enough presence of mind to call Thomas over to take her, and the moment she grabbed hold of his teammate, Daniel went to Nora.
She was already standing, already coming towards him.
And then she was there, her arms were around him, and his around her, and they were kissing, and nothing else in this bar, or the rest of the world, mattered.
Nora , a moment later
She pulled away from him, finally, only because she needed to breathe. And because, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make love with him right here on the floor of the bar.
No, that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to talk to him. To know everything he’d been doing for the last two years, all the good and the bad. And to tell him everything she’d done, everything she’d felt since the moment she’d last seen him, up on the stage receiving his diploma.
But before they could talk, before anything else, there was one thing she had to do. Her hands were ahead of her; they’d already unbuttoned the two buttons on his polo shirt.
And there it was. She pulled the necklace out, held it up to her face.
“You’re still wearing it.” She knew he would be.
“I haven’t taken it off since you put it on me.” She hadn’t known that. But she probably should have guessed it.
Nora only now realized that everyone in the bar was staring at them. She didn’t care, but Daniel might. Except he wasn’t paying any attention to anything or anyone except her. His eyes were locked on hers.
“You want to sit down?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Annette get up from their table, clearing out to give her space with Daniel.
But before they got halfway there, a voice boomed out from the speakers by the stage.
“Stop right where you are! If you’re going to give us a floor show, then you have to sing, too! ”
She turned away from Daniel to see the emcee pointing at them, beckoning them to the stage.
“I guess we have to,” Daniel whispered to her. He didn’t look nearly as hesitant as she expected. “I can’t sing, but if we’re up there together, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
No, it didn’t. She took his hand and walked up there. The emcee wasn’t all that much older than her, maybe mid-twenties, and he wore the most hideous multi-colored sportscoat she’d ever seen. “Sorry for making a scene,” she told him, although she wasn’t at all.
He handed her the songbook, and she opened it, holding it up for Daniel to see, too. “You pick,” he said. “Like I said, I can’t sing, so pick something you’re good with and I’ll—I don’t know. Hum along, I guess.”
An image came to her mind then—that stupid music video for Addicted to Love . Except she’d be Robert Palmer and Daniel would have to be one of the slinky women in a too-tight black dress.
She had to laugh at that. But her voice probably couldn’t go that low anyway.
And, anyway, it wasn’t the right mood. There was something better, though.
She wasn’t really a Cyndi Lauper fan, but it was a pretty melody, and she was fairly sure she could hit all the notes.
“Okay,” she told the emcee. “We’re ready. Number 315.”
The emcee gestured for her and Daniel to take the stage, and handed each of them a microphone. He reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and then the music started up.
Daniel , five seconds later
He knew the song, of course. He’d been a freshman in high school when it came out, and it was all over the radio.
Nora’s voice was shaky for the first couple of lines of Time After Time , but she quickly got hold of herself. She knew the lyrics by heart. She didn’t glance at the screen once—her eyes never left his.
He just watched her, listened to her, felt how close she was.
He hadn’t forgotten how much he missed this—missed her—but the intensity of it surprised him.
The way she filled all his senses—not just sight and sound and touch.
She still smelled of jasmine and vanilla, and from her kiss he could still taste something tangy and maybe sour—whatever she’d been drinking right before he got here.
She was everything .
And she could even sing. Her voice wasn’t trained, he could hear that. But it was beautiful and clear all the same.
He had to join in, didn’t he? The chorus was coming up, and it was perfect because it was true.
He wasn’t looking out at the crowd when he started singing, he was focused on Nora and every word was from the heart.
He would always catch her if she fell, and for two years now—no, twenty six months and one day—he had been waiting.
Nora , three minutes later
The music faded, and she hugged Daniel, holding him as tightly as she ever had, enough to break a rib and she could see that he didn’t care.
The crowd was clapping, and Nora glanced away from him for a minute to see one table on their feet and shouting, and all wearing the same shirt.
His co-workers, they had to be. But he didn’t see them, he was completely focused on her.
“Let’s go sit down,” he said, and he led her off the stage.
She pointed to the table Annette had vacated.