“Of course she knew,” Lexi argued. “How could she not know?”
“Isabel, you brought the house down,” JoAnn said as though she were announcing the most astonishing news.
Isabel shook her head, but that only made the dizziness come back. Everything was being obscured by the fog that enveloped her. She remembered the crowd screaming but believed her friends were exaggerating.
Damon seemed the most thunderstruck of all of them. He was frowning at her like someone who had never seen her before and couldn’t quite decide who or what she was.
“Are you angry?” she asked, and when he told her no, she smiled and said, “I think I drank too much. I should go home.”
“No, not yet,” Owen argued. “It’s only a little past midnight.”
After some coaxing from the rest of the table, she decided she could stay a bit longer, and so she ordered another beer.
Her friends continued to stare at her in such an odd way, it made her uncomfortable. What was the matter with them?
“You have a dynamite voice,” Lexi blurted.
“It’s so husky and sexy,” Owen added.
Embarrassed, she said, “Thanks. Now can we talk about something else?”
That was easier said than done. People kept stopping by the booth to tell her how great she’d sounded. An older man in a sports coat—obviously not one of Finnegan’s usual patrons—handed her a card and told her not to sign any contracts without gaining legal advice first. He was an attorney, and he would be happy to represent her when all the offers started pouring in.
Offers? Offers for what? She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, but she thanked him all the same.
For the next two hours, the friends continued to reminisce about all the fun times they had shared, but by two A.M. the crowd had thinned out, and it was time for them to separate. They hugged one another tightly and promised to stay in touch.
Damon walked Isabel to his car, taking very slow steps just to make sure she wasn’t going to throw up when he poured her into the passenger seat and clipped the seatbelt.
Once back at the tiny apartment she shared with two third-year students, he helped her climb the stairs, then kissed her on her forehead and said, “If you ever need me, all you have to do is call or just show up at my door.”
“All the way to Los Angeles?”
“Yes. All the way there. I’ll text you my code to get in. I’ll be your safety net. Okay?”
“That would be nice.”
He laughed. “I doubt you’ll remember any of this. Now get some sleep.”
And he was gone.
TWO
ISABEL HADN’T HAD MUCH TIME TO THINK ABOUT DAMON SINCE LAST NIGHT, BUT NOW, sitting in a cramped plane on her way to Boston, the emotions were swelling up inside her. Damon was her dearest friend, and she loved him like a brother. She was going to miss him. A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. It wouldn’t do to start crying in front of the other passengers. Fortunately, the aspirin she had taken earlier was finally kicking in, and her headache was beginning to ease. She pulled her baseball cap down low on her forehead, curled up against the window, and slept hard until something jarred her awake. She thought about asking the eternal student with the goofy smile sitting next to her what that clunking sound was, but she didn’t want to engage him in conversation because she knew, once he started talking, she’d never get him to stop.
And then it dawned on her. The sound she heard was the landing gear. They were arriving in Boston. She couldn’t believe how long and how hard she’d slept. She didn’t feel rested, though.
Remnants of her hangover were still streaming through her head. She felt grimy and thought she probably looked like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead. After exiting the plane, she hurried to the ladies’ room to freshen up. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, then applied makeup so she would look human again. Feeling a little bit refreshed, she headed to baggage claim, where Kate would be waiting.
Uh-oh. Her cell phone. She had forgotten to turn it on, and as soon as she did, she saw thirty-eight texts. The first one was from Owen telling her that several people had posted her singing at Finnegan’s on YouTube and that she had gone viral. From the number of exclamation points peppering his text, she knew he was excited by his news. But then, so were Lexi and JoAnn. They left voice messages, and both were downright giddy with their news. Viral? What was the big deal? Maybe a hundred people would see the video. Then again, maybe not. Here now, gone in an hour.
Scrolling through the texts she found one from Kate telling her that a car would pick her up and take her to the Hamilton Hotel. She and Dylan were running late, but one or both of them planned to meet Isabel in the hotel lobby and drive her over the bridge to Nathan’s Bay. They should be there by five, six at the latest, and suggested that Isabel sit in the lounge and have a beverage.
More sitting? She inwardly groaned.
Too late she realized she should have rented her own car, then she wouldn’t have to depend on others to drive her around. Kate and Dylan had talked her out of it, using the excuse that Boston was one of the worst cities for traffic and gridlock. She knew that wasn’t the real reason they didn’t want
her to drive, though. They thought she was—as Dylan put it—“a lunatic behind the wheel.” Granted, she had had a couple of near misses, and it just so happened that Kate and Dylan were in the car with her at the time. She had swerved her way out of both messes—or “near-death experiences,” as Kate called them—and she didn’t have a single ticket on her license. As far as she was concerned, they had nothing to complain about.
She quickly went through the rest of her texts and read another one Kate had sent telling her that she had reserved two rooms at the Hamilton just as a precaution, in case all eight bedrooms at the Buchanan house were filled. Isabel remembered there was also a coach house on the property with two large bedrooms, and she wondered if those would be occupied, too. Were all the Buchanan brothers and sisters going to be home for their parents’ anniversary celebration? It was a big family.
Six boys—four were married now. And two girls—one was married, the other still single. If they were all back home with their spouses and children, it would be quite a crowd.
They were such a fun family. She loved all the Buchanans . . . all but one, anyway. Michael Christopher Buchanan, or Bonehead as she secretly called him, was the exception. He was rude, and if there was anything she couldn’t abide, it was rudeness. He was also insensitive, impatient, and obnoxious. Yes, he was good-looking, but then all the Buchanan men were. Michael was tall, dark, and handsome, and she imagined there were a lot of dim-witted women who would fall at his feet.