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I catch the start of a familiar chord and turn my attention back to the stage. Chris’s fingers strum quickly against the strings, and his voice is low and quiet as he starts singing the song about the dress.
He’s been tweaking it over the months we’ve been here. He still has highs and lows in writing, but writing for other performers has taken some of the pressure off. I’m still shocked when I hear this version of him, though—instead of hoarse screams and furious German, this is so light and gentle and delicate.
I would never admit that it’s my favorite, of course, but it is.
The crowd is loud when the first song finishes, and Chris gestures to the previous singer, who comes up to join him on stage for a duet.
After that, Chris plays two more songs, and at the end of every song, the crowd is louder, rowdier. Next to me, Jade turns to look behind us, and her eyes widen. A quick glance over my shoulder shows that the crowd has grown, people coming in from the streets or called in by friends.
That’s why we’ve kept the set list short, and at the end of the fourth song, Chris thanks the crowd, grabs the guitar by the neck, and quickly disappears down the back hallway again.
“Oh, my god!” Emma squeals. “That was amazing!”
“He totally wrote that first song about you,” Jade says, and I laugh.
My phone buzzes with a message.
Chris
Escaped the crowds, on my way home. You staying out with the ladies?
Sara
We’re going to pick up Indian food and bring it home.
See you soon.
Chris sends me a kissy face, his favorite emoji, and I tuck my phone away. Jade, Emma, and Tessa have a hotel room around the corner from our flat.
“All right, ladies, let’s get a move on,” I say, and we abandon our table and empty mugs, weaving our way through the crowd to the exit.
When we step out, all four of us tighten our coats around ourselves. It’s chilly in London in January, and it’s early enough that there are people bustling back and forth in the cold and gray. The winter in London was a shock for me after the glorious fall weather in Baden-Baden.
“Can we stop at a wine shop?” Jade asks.
“We’ve got a few bottles back at the flat,” I say.
“Back at the flat,” Jade and Emma echo and giggle. I roll my eyes. They’ve been teasing me about it all week, but that’s what everyone—Chris included—calls it, so it’s snuck into my vernacular.
“I checked out what you have, but I’d like a bottle of cava.”
“Have I had cava?” Emma asks.
“You had some in Madrid when you stayed with me, but it was forever ago. I think it’s my favorite now.”
“Oh,” Tessa says. “Unseating the Moscato?”
“My tastes are maturing,” Jade says, affecting a posh air. “Besides, I’ve grown used to drinking it. When in Rome—or in this case, Madrid—and all that.”
I link my arm in Jade’s. “Well, then, let’s get you some cava post-haste. I know a shop on the way to the Indian place.”
Tessa links arms with Emma, and they follow behind us.
“Does Chris have any friends he can hook me up with?” Jade asks.
“Still in a dry spell?” My brows draw together in concern.
“My vibrator has been working overtime. And I think it would be good to focus my attention on someone else instead of worrying about this Carlos thing.”
