Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig
Eva
Ican’t remember the last time I was in such a good mood. Kat and I stay up most of the night, curled up together on the couch watching shitty reality shows and talking. Will abandons us to go to bed around midnight and our conversation shifts to him. I tell her about the rest of our trip to Tennessee, about playing music around the campfire and all the fun we had.
“But Marissa said you came home early?” she asks.
So, in whispered tones, I tell her about the fight with his dad and uncles, and her eyes go wide. “And he hasn’t told you what it was all about?”
I shake my head. “He gets all quiet whenever it comes up.”
She studies my face. “Does that worry you?”
I shrug. “A little? I mean, we haven’t been together that long. Maybe it just takes him more time to get comfortable with that kind of sharing.”
But there’s a little seed of worry in my gut, the same seed that’s been there ever since that day in the Ransome’s recording studio.
I manage not to dwell on it the next day—a feat that’s much easier with Katherine around. We go shopping, hitting up all the unique places in the fashion district that Kat loves. Marissa schedules us a spa day, and we get mani-pedis and facials. We spend time on the beach, even though the ocean is way too cold to do more than stick our feet in. That night, we order take-out from about five different places, so we can get a taste of everything we like, and watch movies.
Most of all, we talk. There’s no one I can talk to more easily than my sister. And even though we do typically talk on the phone several times a week, there’s nothing like being face-to-face with her.
Will is there for most of it—except the shopping and spa parts, when he goes in to the shop to catch up on some work. He seems content enough to sit back and let us do our thing, and more than once I catch him watching me while I’m talking to Kat, a soft smile on his face that always makes my cheeks heat up.
My birthday is Sunday so we plan on dinner with everyone Saturday night. I figured we’d just make a group reservation somewhere, but apparently Will and Marissa have been doing some behind-my-back planning. They booked us a private room at my favorite restaurant in Santa Monica, and invited all of my friends and several of Will’s cousins.
My friend Sosie, who I met when she was working as a Broadway make-up artist, shows up at my house early to help us get ready. When I introduce her to Will, she looks a little disappointed. “I was hoping you’d be wearing the glasses,” she sighs, and Kat and I laugh at the bemused expression on his face.
We go all out getting ready, since the restaurant is fancy—and because sometimes it’s just fun to be totally girly. Sosie does our make-up and we all do each other’s hair, Katherine submitting to my demands that she wear hers down for once. She’s usually in such a rush with school and studying that she forever lives in a messy topknot. Tonight, though, her long auburn hair shines in loose waves down her back.
Since Kat loves all things retro, she found a fifties style black dress that looks perfect on her. I picked a blue dress, fitted at the waist with a swinging skirt, because Will told me once it’s his favorite color on me. Our getting ready efforts pay off for me when I see the intense look in his dark eyes when we finally join him in the living room.
“You’re going to make it very difficult to keep my hands to myself tonight,” he mutters in my ear as we head out to the waiting hired car Marissa arranged.
I can feel my cheeks pink up as he brings a hand to the small of my back to guide me to the car. Ahead of us, Kat laughs at something Sosie is saying to her and I feel a swell of contentment in my chest. Kat is here, laughing and happy and looking gorgeous. Will is next to me, his body heat enveloping me like a warm, familiar blanket. We’re on our way to see all of the most important people in my life.
How could I feel anything other than completely, overwhelmingly happy?
I get a little teary when we get to the restaurant and I see everyone. My friends Geoff and Caleb, Luke and his wife Vicky—all of the people who joined Marissa, Sosie, and I the day we got tattoos and I met Will. Then there’s Rose, River, Everly, Alex and Fox plus my manager Dennis. It’s everyone I care about most, and they’re all here for me.
I work really hard not to make my entire life be about the fire, but in moments like this, it’s hard not to think about it. Hard not to feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Because I survived that day. I survived all the difficult times that have come since. I’m still here. And I’m so damn happy that I am.
We sit at a long table to eat amazing food and talk and laugh and drink. I had given strict instructions that I didn’t want gifts and I’m thankful everyone followed them.
Everyone except for Will. At the end of the meal he presents me with a square package, wrapped in garish Star Trek themed wrapping paper that makes me laugh. Inside, I find a framed photo—no, not a photo. It’s a drawing. A colored pencil drawing of a man and woman standing against a railing, looking out at the setting sun over the ocean.
It’s us. Me and Will. Looking at the sunset, the way we had the first day he came to my house. I know without asking that he drew it, and for a long moment, I can’t speak. I swallow several times, blinking back the wetness in my eyes, and feel him press a kiss to the side of my head. I lean into him, luxuriating in the warmth and strength of his body.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re very welcome, honey.”
After dinner, the waiters clear the table and bring out dessert and we all move around the room to chat. As I mingle with the guests, I can’t help but notice the way River has zeroed in on Kat. He’s standing way too close to her, his hand brushing the small of her back. I don’t like it.
“You doing okay there, champ?” Will asks, an amused twinkle in his eye.
I nod over at them. “What’s going on there?”
His mouth presses together, the way it does when he’s trying not to laugh. “I think they’re just talking.”
“He’s standing too close to her. And why is he looking at her like that?”
“Because she’s talking and it’s polite to look at the people who are talking to you?”
I glare up at him and he does laugh then. “Cool out, Mama Bear. He’s not going to bite.”
“Well, I don’t like it.” I hear how petulant I sound and Will laughs again.
I introduce him to Dennis, who studies him with an expression I can’t quite read before turning his attention to me. “There are a couple things I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, and I get the feeling he’s intentionally keeping his voice low so as not to include Will in the conversation.
Before I can answer, Marissa is at my side, glaring at him with the expression she seems to reserve only for my manager.
“She’s not talking about work at her birthday party, Dennis.”
He holds up his hands. “It’s not work related.”
Her eyes narrow even more. “I don’t believe you.”
I press a hand to her forearm, squeezing gently. “It’s fine, Mar. Why don’t you introduce Will to Vicky? I don’t think they’ve officially met yet.”
She doesn’t look at all happy about it, but she does as I ask, Will shooting me a concerned look over his shoulder as they walk away.
“That woman needs to calm down,” he mutters.
“She just worries.”
He directs his attention back to me and visibly relaxes the scowl from his face, replacing it with a smile. A smile that somehow doesn’t look as genuine as I’m used to from him.
“I want you to go see this doctor.” He pulls a white card from his pocket. “I’ve been asking around and I think he can really help you.”
I glance down at the name and find it unfamiliar. “Why do you want me to see a new doctor?” After the fire, Marissa worked to find me the most well-respected doctors on the West Coast. I’ve been working with the same team since that first awful week in the hospital. They know my history, know all the details of my case.
More importantly, I’m familiar with them. I’m comfortable with them. And that makes a difference in a relationship that, by nature, includes a lot of uncomfortable poking and prodding. It’s still difficult for me to allow physical closeness with strangers.
“This doctor.” He taps the card in my hand. “Is very well recommended. I spoke with him myself. He expressed some concerns about your treatment plan.”
I frown. He had told someone I’ve never even met about my treatment plan?
“According to him, replacement should not be necessary at this stage.”
I gape up at my manager. “But…I don’t understand. We’ve tried all the other options. Surgeries, physical therapy. Everyone agrees that I need a new hip.”
I swallow hard. It’s an eventuality that I try hard not to think about. I hate being in the hospital, hate how powerless and exposed it makes me feel. I’ve already had several surgeries to attempt to heal the torn ligaments and set the affected bones and joint, not to mention plastic surgery to try and mitigate the scarring from the burns. The recovery process sucks and I know a full replacement will be so much worse.
But I’ve known for a while now it’s going to happen. The pain and swelling and loss of mobility I experience will only get worse and worse.
“He disagrees. He’s quite sure he can lessen the difficulties with a different treatment plan. I think you should meet with him.”
“I don’t know…” Of course I would love to avoid the surgery. But something about this conversation is ringing alarm bells in my head.
“Just think about it,” he urges, closing my hand around the card. “We want to explore all the options, right? And besides, now that you’re playing again, I bet you’ll be itching to get into the studio sooner than later. That’s going to be hard to do if you’re recovering from a hip replacement.”
My stomach drops at his words. I had mentioned to him that I’d been playing piano a bit since the trip to Tennessee but the idea that I might be ready to record soon is incredibly farfetched. I’m about to tell him that when Kat appears at our side.
“Hey,” she says brightly, even as she shoots a dark look in Dennis’s direction. “We’re going to do the cake in a bit.”
“As much as I’d love to stay for that, I have another obligation this evening.” He swoops in and presses twin kisses to my cheeks. “Happy birthday, Eva. It’s great to see you doing so well.”
“Thanks for coming, Dennis,” I say, fidgeting with the edges of the card.
He says goodbye to my sister and then leaves the room without a word to anyone else. Kat watches him go with narrowed eyes. “What did he want?”
I hold out the card. “He wants me to meet with a new doctor.”
She gapes at me. “What? Why would he want you to do that? It took you months to develop the trust you have with your medical team.”
“This guy seems to think I might not need another surgery.”
A flash of pure anger crosses her expression. “Well that’s pretty convenient.”
“Kat—”
“I mean, come on, Eva. He’s been putting pressure on you to get back to work for months. Trying to convince you that you’re well enough when it’s obvious you aren’t. And now he has some new doctor to trot out who says you don’t need surgery?”
“He’s just trying to help,” I say, even as my gut protests that she has a point.
My sister has never liked my manager. Just like Marissa, she finds him too controlling, too pushy. Too eager to shape me into the bubbly pop princess I had never planned to be. In Kat’s eyes, Dennis’s main concern is whatever cut he can get himself from my earnings.
But it’s hard for me to see my manager as anyone but the guy who plucked me out of obscurity and helped me find the career that allows me to take care of Kat. He believed in me when just about no one else did, fought for me, secured my first record deal.
Yeah, he can be a little pushy and single-minded about my career. But that’s what I pay him for, right?
I drop the card into my clutch purse and slip my arm through hers. “Hey, did you say something about cake? Because I could definitely eat.”
“You ate approximately twenty minutes ago.”
“Yes, Kat, but it’s cake. You don’t say no to cake. It’s like, a law.”
She laughs, leaning her head against my shoulder. “I love you, you big weirdo.”
“And I love you too, you little brat.”