Page 68 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

The door clicks and inches open.

“Please,” she says.

“May I?” I ask the technician.

She chuckles.

“That’s up to her.”

I nod and step inside as Niki slumps back into the chair. She doesn’t faint, but she sure is sweating, and her face is practically gray.

I pick her shoe up off the floor and hold out my other hand.

“Gimme,” I say, and she lifts her leg, propping her heel in my palm.

I work her shoe on, then snag the other one from the floor and do the same. Once she’s fully dressed and has had a minute to regulate her breathing, I hoist her up in my arms. She doesn’t even protest that I’m carrying her through the lobby, which means as stubborn as she can be, she’s that much more freaked out by this experience.

“I hope you’re still up for lunch,” I say as I lean over to help her buckle in. Her hand finds my chin, nudging me to look her in the eyes.

“I could be dead and I would still be up for lunch,” she jokes.

I laugh, then close the small gap between our mouths to kiss her.

“All right then.”

Not wanting to send her into a new round of panic, I keep my ulterior motive to myself on our drive into the historic downtown. I luck out with a spot right by the door, but Nikki seems solid enough on her feet now to get up to the curb on her own. Her arm is wrapped with a bright green bandage from the IV, and there’s a small stain in the center which means she probably bled a little bit. She’s not great with blood.

Wow, when we have kids one day, I’m going to do a lot of the gross stuff.

I let that thought simmer in my chest, keeping it to myself as we enter the café. Kids with Nik. Now that I’m manifesting the idea, it feels so probable.

“This place is nice,” she says, taking in the open dining room that leads right out onto a patio and a grassy seating area in the back.

“My mom loves this place,” I say.

“Kind of jealous she never brought me here when she took us both out,” Nikki says. We both follow the hostess, who gives me a wink, having read my notes when I called ahead. She puts us at a table just inside the main dining space and to the side of the small platform where a guitar rests on a stool.

“There’s music?” Nikki brightens.

I nod with a smile.

I scan the restaurant, spotting the woman I want her to meet at the other end of the bar. She’s drinking water, probably on her break. I didn’t go so far as to call her ahead of time too, but I remember her being kind enough that if I can urge Nikki to talk with her, she’ll be happy to.

We order drinks, Nikki splurging with a sugary smoothie type thing. I encourage her to also guzzle down some water, but she’s probably had plenty of that. Water is the only thing she’s had for twenty-four hours. And lots of it. Apparently, you need to have your insides float for a proper CT scan.

“Hi, I’m Annabeth,” the woman says softly through the mic.

Nikki puts down her glass and folds her hands together as she leans onto the table, her eyes immediately noticing the cochlear implants on her ears. Her gaze shifts to me, and I suck my mouth into a guilty, straight line.

Her head falls to the side a touch, having caught on.

“Trust me,” I say, and she takes a deep breath through her nose and gives me a tepid nod.

“This one’s called ‘Love, Actually,’ and no, not after the movie.” The few people in the restaurant with us titter, and when I glance at Nikki, she’s smiling at the joke.

Annabeth works her hands up the guitar, her eyes focused intently on every touch, her chin tucked in as she studies herself. I remember her telling us that she likes to see the music work. It sets her brain up to sing confidently, knowing that part is right.

And her playing is beautiful. Her touch goes from soft to intentional, the shift easy and natural. I don’t really know shit about music other than what I like, but I’d say she’s definitely mastered the nuances.

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