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She grimaced at the beer. “No, but thank you.”
After one more sip of her pink drink, she put both hands flat on the desk and blew air through her pursed lips. The notes trembled and shook. She breathed deeply in, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll be fine now. Thank you very much.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll see you out there. Break a leg.”
She laughed, that big smile returning for a brief moment before it went crooked and uncertain. “Right. Break a leg. I’ll try, I guess. Oh, I should pay you back!”
Her hand swung around and hit the martini glass with an alarming chime, but she scrambled and managed to save the glass before it tipped. “Oh, thank God,” she gasped, “That would have been a tragedy.”
“Not an insurmountable one. I promise I’d have gotten you another.”
She laughed again, her round cheeks going pink. “You’re really sweet. Thanks for helping me out.”
Gabe was surprised to feel his own face going slightly warm. “No problem.” He backed out and closed the door, leaving this odd woman to her work. He knew less about her after their second interaction than he had after their first, but one thing was certain. She was high maintenance as hell. A drama queen, maybe. Or just high-strung. Whatever she was, he was staying far away from it.
His phone buzzed as he reached the end of the hall and Gabe took it from his pocket, smiling when he saw his sister’s name pop up in a text box. Another high-maintenance woman, but one he couldn’t bear to keep at a distance: his middle sister, Naomi.
How was your first day? she asked.
Good. I’m out with the other librarians right now.
She texted a big smiley face. Girls’ night???
Something like that, he responded. Are you back home?
Yes, Paris was a blast, but now Mom’s trying to feed me, and Dad’s just...disappointed.
Yeah, Gabe was disappointed, too. But he was hopeful that once his sister got through a few more years of international modeling, she’d be ready to settle down and take over the family business. Then again, he’d been telling himself that for more than ten years. Unfortunately, Naomi had turned out to be one of those rare models who was even more popular in her thirties than she had been in her teens.
And their older sister? Yeah, she was an even bigger disappointment to their father.
It was all up to Gabe now.
Gabe shook his head and texted back.
Just eat one burger and make them both happy.
I tried that last time. It didn’t get them off my back, and I had to run ten extra miles on the treadmill.
Tragedy! he responded, then added a crying face to the text.
Kiss my ass, little brother.
Love you, too,he sent before he tucked the phone back into his pocket. One hour of this Dear Veronica nonsense, and then he could head over to his new place, ignore family and work obligations, and get on with his new life.
* * *
VERONICACOULDN’TFEELher own hands and she couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. It wasn’t the martini affecting her, unfortunately; it was pure, unadulterated terror.
Despite the numbness, her hands were still holding the letters she’d chosen to read, and the crowd was still clapping and smiling. She couldn’t remember much of the past forty-five minutes, but maybe it was going fine. She might even be doing a good job, but she had a feeling the crowd approval had more to do with the alcohol. Not that she minded.
“And now, our sixth and final Dear Veronica letter,” she said into the microphone, lowering her voice a little to bring down the noise level in the bar. It worked. The roar subsided.
She drank the last of her now-warm cosmo and took a deep breath. “‘Dear Veronica, I feel like I’m a pretty good catch. I’m young, relatively pretty, educated and fun loving. Men ask me out. I wouldn’t say I have any problem getting a date, and my standards are reasonably high. I expect a potential mate to be employed and funny and hot as hell—’”
“That’s you, Steve!” someone yelled out, causing howls to erupt.
Veronica smiled and pointed in the direction of the noise. “Find me later, Steve.” She waited for the laughter to quiet, then continued. “‘So why do I always end up being the booty call? Why am I never the girlfriend? It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. Don’t get me wrong—I love sex, but I’d like more than that, and the last three guys I’ve dated have all ended up being casual.’ It’s signed That Girl.”
