Page 18 of Yours, Finally

I groaned. She wrinkled her nose in humor, but hid her smile.

"Great idea," I said, "but maybe not."

"It's a small place. A hundred people at most—"

"A hundred people?!"

"No one knows you or your story and everyone is there to sing, some of them terribly. I have to guess you've gotten better with time, haven't you?"

I shrugged again, trying to release the discomfort still clutching my shoulders. It wouldn't leave.

"I'll think about it." I checked my watch. "But I should go back to my office. I came here only to make a plan about the venues, etcetera. I saw the links you sent me. We should go check a few, right? I asked Stephanie to coordinate with Ryan."

I had also come to her office to inquire about the flowers, but that was an added benefit to the visit, and one that had only worked halfway.

"Sounds good," Vi said. "We'll go soon. And think about karaoke, okay? I think it could be fun for you."

"It would be a challenge, for sure. I'll think about it," I added, on my way out of her office.

Chapter 7

Vi

By the end ofthe working week, the flowers on my desk had been disposed of, and I joined Jake for a short morning trip. With the party for my parents happening so soon, we needed to choose a venue as soon as possible.

Jake drove us to the first option on my list. Just like me, he declined a driver more often than not, preferring to do the driving himself. Ten minutes into the journey, we got caught in the first bit of traffic. Where I would have gotten annoyed by it and upped the volume of my audiobook to drown it out, Jake remained as calm as ever.

I sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if there's anything that gets your blood boiling."

"What do you mean?"

"Even my dad huffs when in standstill traffic. You? I haven't been in the car with you much, but it seems you're more likely to hum a song than get irritated."

He shrugged, his eyes still on the car ahead. "This light is always like this, but there are no real alternatives. Even the GPS says it's the best way. So why would I let it get to me?"

"Road rage is a thing, Jake. But I guess not for you?"

"Have you ever seen me rage? About anything?"

I searched my memory files for any memory of Jake angry. It took a while; I'd known him since I was six years old, and Gabe had brought him over for dinner after school one day.

A thousand scenes glittered in my mind. Me asking my mom why Gabe's new friend was so shy, and she telling me his home could be a scary place. Being a teenager, Jake smiling at me in school, and me instantly feeling something new and different for him. Jake joking around with Gabe and I in the first iteration of the lake house, when it was still a small A-frame cabin; and me catching him playing the guitar one day.

The door I'd tried to close for the past several years opened a crack. If I wasn't careful, every feeling and thought and emotional souvenir I'd packed behind it would come crashing down.

I shook my head. "I guess I haven't, no."

"That's right. Traffic won't be the thing that wrecks my streak."

As if the universe had wanted to reward him, the cars ahead advanced and we got to move forward somewhat. Two or so more green lights, and we'd overcome the hump.

I smirked. "Streak? Are you counting days?"

"Years."

I glanced at him. His frown showed on his profile; a thick wrinkle at the top of his straight nose. When I didn't immediately reply, he gave me his eyes.

To see a man like him break— big and self controlled, but weak for you in all the right ways.