“Pickle-dick? That’s a new one.”
“I try. I’ve been writing them down so I don’t forget them.”
“Hey, Haven?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me about the role.”
She sighed, growing quiet for so long, I checked my phone to see if we were still connected. “Scott Porter got the lead role.”
I winced. Once upon a time, Haven had been Scott Porter’s one who got away. Time had turned her into his enemy, and whenever he was involved in a production, he had her blacklisted.
“He’s still bein’ a twat?” I wasn’t as creative as Haven with the insults.
“Unrequited love, honey. Makes people crazy. I just wish I’d known he was involved with the play. I wouldn’t have expended so much energy trying to get the role.”
“I hate that guy.”
“Me too. And I wish you were here. I need a freaking Maeve hug.”
I perked up, an idea forming. “You have to come down here before we leave on tour. Ride the train. We’ll do a girl’s night out with Yael.Please. I need to hug the shit out of you.”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Tell me the day, and I’ll make it work. Oh my god, I can’t wait.”
We chatted for another couple minutes, making plans, getting excited, both feeling lighter and happier when we hung up.
Santiago was setting bowls on the kitchen table when I went to check. He looked up, giving me a small smile. “Hungry?”
“Yeah, I am.” I sat across from him, shifting around in the hard chair until I found a comfortable position.
He watched me with a pinched brow. “Are you still hurting?”
“I am, but I’m feelin’ better already. Tomorrow might have to be a light rehearsal day.”
He shook his head. “You’re not rehearsing tomorrow.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
He gave me a long stare, his dark eyes unrelenting. “Who’s it going to help if you get everyone else sick?”
He had a point. I hated to admit that, especially when he was being so damn bossy. “What about you? Aren’t you afraid I’ll make you sick?”
“Somebody’s gotta take care of you,” he gritted out.
“I was doin’ fine on my own.”
“Don’t be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.”
I nearly tossed my bowl of steaming soup at him. “Don’t tell me how to feel. That only makes me want to dig my heels in.”
He brought his elbows onto the table, his hands steepled under his chin as he exhaled through his mouth. “I don’t know what to say to you that won’t make you mad. I know this situation is fucked up, but I’m trying here, Maeve.”
Not knowing how to answer that—because it was true, and my butt was as stubborn as the day was long—I ate a spoonful of soup. And then, another, and another. I may have moaned. Considering the way Santiago laughed, I probably had.
“Good?” he asked.
“Mmhmm.”