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  But fucking Pittsburgh.

  My family starts showing up and I have to put it out of my head for a while. Alex and Mia arrive first, followed closely by Kendra and Weston. Linnea comes downstairs and sits in the living room, chatting with Mia and my sister. Alex, Weston, and I each grab a beer and hang out at the dining table.

  There’s another knock and I go to answer the door—it’s either my dad, or the pizza. We usually get together at my dad’s house so he doesn’t have to drive. I offered to come pick him up, although it’s out of my way. But he insisted he’d get here on his own. We all help him out as much as we can, but he’s been working hard to regain his independence since his back surgery. He’s been doing really well.

  I open the door and blink in surprise. It’s my dad, but he’s not alone.

  “Hi, son,” he says. “Sorry to spring an extra guest on you at the last minute, but this is my friend Jacqueline.”

  His friend? He grins at me, then at her. Holy shit, does my dad have a girlfriend? I open the door wider. “No, it’s fine. Please, come in.”

  Dad comes in, leaning on his cane, and Jacqueline follows. She’s probably in her late fifties—very pretty with a hippy or maybe yoga instructor vibe. Mostly-gray hair cut in a short bob. Bright blue and orange patterned dress with blue leggings and brown sandals. She’s wearing a bunch of necklaces, but despite the different sizes and colors, they all seem to go together.

  “Thank you so much for having me,” Jacqueline says and her eyes crinkle with a pleasant smile. “I’m sorry, I thought Ken told you I was coming.”

  My dad chuckles. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “It’s fine, it’s great to meet you.” I raise my eyebrows at Dad but he just grins again.

  I lead them into the house and we make the rounds of introductions. Mia stares at Jacqueline with her mouth hanging open until Alex nudges her. Kendra looks like she’s ready to burst, but amazingly she doesn’t start drilling Dad with questions. He calls Jacqueline his friend again, but the way they smile at each other makes it pretty clear she’s a little more than a friend.

  The pizza arrives soon after, and we all sit around the dining table to eat. Dad tells us how they met at his physical therapist’s office. They were both patients and had regular appointments at the same time, so they found themselves in the waiting room together each week. Kendra and Mia don’t bother to contain their sighs of awe as Dad recounts the day he got up the courage to ask Jacqueline if she’d like to have coffee.

  Kendra sniffs and wipes under her eyes. “This is so sweet. I’m so happy for you, Dad.” She starts crying harder and Weston hands her a napkin.

  “This is amazing,” Mia says. “Oh my god, Jacqueline, do you have kids? If you and Ken get married, we could have a bunch of new siblings.” She stops and pinches her lips together for a moment while the rest of us shift in our seats. She adjusts her glasses. “Sorry… I didn’t mean… I’ll stop now.”

  Dad smiles at his daughter-in-law and his eyes light up. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so happy.

  “I do have one daughter, Gwen,” Jacqueline says. “She lives nearby, so maybe you’ll meet her sometime.”

  Mia makes a squeaky sound and looks at Kendra. She’s still crying.

  “I’m sorry,” Kendra says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  All eyes move to Kendra and as soon as I see the self-satisfied look on Weston’s face, I realize what’s going on.

  “Kendra?” I say.

  She wipes beneath her eyes and looks at Weston. He gives her that smile I’ve never seen him give anyone else, and nods.

  “Well, since we’re all here,” she says. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

  The table erupts with congratulations and exclamations of happiness. Mia jumps up from her spot, knocking over her chair, and runs around the table to throw her arms around Kendra. Weston leans out of the way, looking a little bit alarmed. Dad claps a few times, then takes Jacqueline’s hand and kisses it. She smiles and leans close to him.

  Charlotte is sitting next to me, and she stands up in her chair so she can whisper in my ear. “Is Kendra having a baby?”

  “Yep, she sure is,” I say.

  “Does that mean the baby is my cousin?” she asks, still whispering.

  I nod. “Exactly. You get a new baby cousin.”

  She smiles. “I hope it’s a girl.”

  The excitement dies down and everyone goes back to their dinner. We ask Kendra questions about her pregnancy. She’s due in January, so it’s still early, and so far she’s feeling fine—other than a propensity for bursting into tears. Weston absently strokes her hair and leans in frequently to kiss her temple.

  Partway through the meal, Charlotte gets down and goes around the table to climb into Weston’s lap. He eats around her like a pro, and despite everything else going on in my mind, it makes me smile. There was a time when I never would have imagined having this thought, but Weston is going to be a great dad.

  Jacqueline chats comfortably with the rest of us. It’s strange to see my dad with a woman. As far as I know, he never dated after my mom left. When we were kids, he was busy working and raising the three of us almost all on his own. Later came the struggles of his back injury—the surgeries, the financial stresses. It’s easy to see why dating wasn’t a priority.

  I’m happy for him. There’s a sense of relief at the idea that my dad might have found someone to share his life with. And Jacqueline appears to be nothing like my mother. Mom would have worn a suit and heels, and probably found a way to ruin Kendra’s announcement with some sort of criticism. With Jacqueline’s warm friendliness and eclectic style, she fits right in.

  I glance around the table at my brother and sister, sitting with their spouses. Alex and Mia are comfortable and secure—clearly crazy about each other. Kendra has that pregnant-woman glow, and Weston—who is basically an ass to most people—adores her. I’m happy for them too.

  My eyes go to Linnea and I get a twist of pain in my chest.

  I know I have to do the right thing for her. The audition in Pittsburgh could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. How could I ask her to pass that up? And for what? To stay here and take care of my kid? How selfish is that?

  She’s so talented. She plays with a beauty and artistry that takes my breath away. And I know how hard she’s been working for this. How much she practices. How dedicated she is.

  I can’t stand in her way.

  She’s been quiet, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I meet her eyes. “Do you want to say anything?”

  “Oh, sure.” She puts down her napkin. “I guess I have news too, although it’s not as exciting as Kendra’s. I have an audition with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra next week.”

  There’s a pause and all eyes are on her. Then on me. She shifts in her seat and tucks her hair behind her ear.

  “It’s an amazing opportunity,” I say. “She’s worked really hard for this.”

  “Wow, congratulations,” Kendra says.

  That seems to break the ice and more congratulations follow, although it’s decidedly quieter than after Kendra’s big announcement. Linnea smiles and thanks everyone. She talks a bit about the symphony—how it’s well respected and she didn’t think she’d have a chance with such a large group so soon. Charlotte asks a few questions about what an audition is like, but she doesn’t seem concerned. I don’t think she understands what this means. Or maybe she just can’t imagine that Linnea would leave us.

  By the time my family leaves, I’m just done. I’m tired from keeping up the façade that everything is okay—that I’m nothing but happy for Linnea. Happy for my dad. Happy for my siblings and their fucking perfect marriages.

  But the truth is, I’m pissed. Not at them. I’m angry at myself for letting this happen. For falling for a woman I knew I couldn’t have—not really. She’s just starting her life. I’m a widowed father with a kid, an established career, and a mortgage.
I’m settled. She should be free.

  I put Charlotte to bed and all I can think about is how shitty it’s going to be when I tell her. How it’s not just me who’s going to be hurt. I should have protected her from that.

  My dad’s reasons for not dating when we were kids make a lot more sense, now that I’m in his shoes.

  I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow morning, so I get the kitchen cleaned up and make an excuse to Linnea about being tired.

  I don’t invite her to come to bed with me. I head upstairs and close the door. Alone.

  23

  Linnea

  Sunday comes all too soon. I’m packed and ready to go, but I’m riddled with nerves. And it’s not just the audition that has my stomach tied in knots.

  Caleb has been distant since Friday when I told him I had to go to Pittsburgh. I’m not sure what I expected him to say. I suppose I should be glad he’s been so supportive. He’s only had positive things to say about it. He’s proud of me. He’s excited for the opportunity. He’s sure I’ll do well. They’d be crazy not to hire me.

  In fact, he’s told me how excited he is so many times, I’m starting to wonder if he wants me to go—as in, permanently.

  I could convince myself I’ve been imagining the distance between us, if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve slept alone the last two nights.

  Is he pushing me away because he knows that if I get the position, I’ll have to move? Or is it because he wants me to leave anyway, and this is an opportunity to break things off?

  I thought Caleb and I had something special. Something real.

  But my track record for understanding men is pretty poor. I thought the same thing about my boyfriend in college—that we had something special. I knew he was applying to Master’s programs out of state. I didn’t think that would mean the end of our relationship. But just like that, as soon as he was accepted, he informed me that we were over.

  I was so used to being pushed aside—to being the invisible girl—I simply accepted it. No one had ever wanted me in their life badly enough to fight for me. Maybe it’s the same now.

  Caleb insisted on taking me to the airport. The closer we get, the sicker I feel. I try to remind myself this will be a short trip. I’ll go to the audition tomorrow, and I’ll be back Tuesday. What I’ll be coming back to, I’m not sure.

  Caleb navigates us to departures and slows with the flow of traffic. I wish he wasn’t being so quiet. He’s hardly said a word since we left the house.

  “Linnea?” Charlotte says from the backseat.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you sure you’ll be back for parent night?” she asks.

  I turn around so I can look her in the eyes. “Of course I will. Do you remember what I promised, way back on my seventeenth day?”

  She nods.

  “I promised I’d be here for you. I always will, okay, Bug? I’ll always be here. I promise.”

  She smiles and nods again. “Okay.”

  I reach back and squeeze her leg. “Okay. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  We pull up to the curb and my tummy churns. Caleb and I get out and he takes my bag out of the trunk, then comes to stand beside me on the sidewalk.

  He passes the handle to me and meets my eyes. “Don’t promise her things like that.”

  I blink at him, stunned. “What?”

  “Don’t make her a promise you can’t keep. You’re not always going to be here.”

  My throat feels like it’s going to close up and cut off my air. “No, I didn’t… I’m coming back on Tuesday. I’ll…”

  The hurt look in his eyes stops me short.

  “You’re amazing.” He squeezes my arm. “The Pittsburgh Symphony is going to love you.”

  I watch him get back in the car and drive away, feeling like I just got punched in the stomach.

  I barely remember the flight. Even the short layover in Denver is a blur. My back and legs are stiff from sitting in the cramped seat for so long, but otherwise, it’s like it didn’t happen. I get off the plane in a daze, rolling my bag behind me. A taxi takes me to my hotel, and between the long flight and losing three hours to the time difference, it’s late when I arrive. I should probably eat something, but I’m too tired to care. I make it up to my room and fall into bed.

  My phone wakes me early. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I grab it and look at the screen. It’s my mother. Knowing she’ll gripe at me for it, I decide not to answer. She’ll either complain that I missed her call, or complain that I was asleep when I should have been up already, so I suppose I’m just picking my poison. I set the phone back down, resolving to call her when I’ve had a chance to wake up.

  After a shower and some tea, I’m awake, although I don’t feel much better than I did yesterday. Thinking about how Caleb left me at the airport makes me tear up. Don’t promise her things like that. I hate that he thinks I didn’t mean it. I will be back for her performance at school. That’s why I’m getting to the airport well before dawn for a flight at six in the morning.

  But he wasn’t just talking about tomorrow night.

  The thought of leaving them and moving away is devastating. But this was always supposed to be the plan. I went to school for this. I’ve been practicing for hours every day for this. The Pittsburgh Symphony is highly respected. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.

  And Caleb said I should go. He practically insisted.

  I’ve never been so confused. If Caleb had asked me to stay, what would I have done? Would I have turned down the audition?

  I guess it doesn’t matter. He didn’t ask me to stay. And this is what I’ve been working toward.

  My phone vibrates with a text. I hope it’s Caleb, but it’s my mother.

  Mom: Are you ready? Meet me in the lobby.

  The lobby? Oh my god, is she here? I didn’t expect her to come. I scroll back and realize I missed a text from her last night. She is here, staying at the same hotel.

  This is not doing anything for my nerves.

  I’m dressed for the audition in a long black dress with a V-neck and three-quarter length sleeves. I smooth it down and take one last look at my hair before I go downstairs. I have it up in a twist—partially because it looks nice, and partially so it won’t get in my way while I’m playing. I put on some red lipstick and blot my lips. I’m nervous, but at least I look the part.

  My mother is indeed in the lobby, dressed in a navy jacket and slacks, pearls at her neck. She’s always kept her brown hair short, and her makeup is tasteful as usual. Her eyes flick up and down as I walk toward her—analyzing my outfit, no doubt.

  “Are you sure about the shoes?” she asks.

  I glance down at my red heels. They’re my favorite pair of shoes, and they hardly show beneath my dress. I decide to ignore her question and hope she drops it. “I didn’t know you were coming. Is Dad here too?”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” she says. “But I wouldn’t have missed this.”

  That pulls me up short. “Really? You want to hear me play? I don’t know if they’ll let anyone in during the audition.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve heard you play before,” she says, and starts walking toward the front doors. “We should get there early.”

  “If you didn’t think you’d hear me play, why did you fly all the way out here? Just to sit in the lobby while I go in?”

  The doorman holds the doors open for us and we step out onto the sidewalk.

  “No, I’m having lunch with Dr. Singleton and his wife.” She gives me a knowing look as we turn toward Heinz Hall. “It’s his wife who is on the board of trustees. This is all about who you know, Linnea. It’s important to foster connections with the right people.”

  My heart sinks. For a second, I thought she cared about hearing me play today. But of course she doesn’t. She’s just here because she doesn’t think I can do this on my own.

  Heinz Hall, the beautiful venue the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra calls home, is just steps away
from our hotel. In the 1920s, it was an opulent movie house, but fell into disrepair. It was almost demolished, but was eventually renovated for the symphony.

  We step inside and my mouth drops open. I’ve seen pictures, but nothing is like seeing it in person. The lobby is stunning, with walls of cream and gold, huge columns, and a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the tall arched ceiling. It’s like walking into a palace. The wide staircase is carpeted in red with a dark wood banister. Every inch of the place says luxury, wealth, and style.

  “Close your mouth and stop staring,” Mom says. “Where are we supposed to go?”

  I close my mouth and look around. There’s a sign on a black stand that says auditions with an arrow pointing left. I find a table with a woman seated behind it outside one of the doors to the main hall. She has an open laptop and a stack of folders next to it. My mother hangs back while I approach the table.

  My hands are already trembling and all-too-familiar pings of nervousness roll through my belly. “Hi, I’m here for my audition. I’m Linnea Frasier.”

  She looks at something on her screen and clicks the mouse a few times. “All right, Ms. Frasier. They’ll call you when they’re ready for you.”

  I’m not the only one here. Several other musicians linger nearby. Most appear to be alone, although one woman is sitting on a padded bench holding a man’s hand. They’re all dressed professionally—everyone in black, or black and white. I glance down at my shoes again, wondering if red was a mistake.

  My mother finds a seat and busies herself with something on her phone. I wander away from her, trying to get my pre-performance jitters under control. I feel increasingly like I might vomit. Taking slow, deep breaths, I walk and stretch my fingers. I don’t know if they’ll give me time to warm up before I have to play, and I want my fingers to be limber.

  Two of the other musicians are called in, one after another. They’re each gone for about ten minutes before coming out again. One has a look of triumph on his face; I can tell he’s happy with his performance. The other looks more relieved than confident.