Page 5 of Dancing in the Rain

Was she really dying?

He picked up the photograph and card and shoved them into the pocket of his jeans.

He strode out of the café and down the sidewalk toward his Lincoln Park home. The one he’d bought less than a year ago, when he was still married to Christy. Stupidly thinking his career would go on forever, stupidly thinking they might want to start a family, he’d shelled out big bucks for the five-thousand-square-foot Frank Lloyd Wright–inspired house.

Now he lived there alone, rattling around like a marble in a crate.

Ah well, at least it was an investment.

At home he went straight to the big U-shaped kitchen and opened the cabinet where he kept a good stock of painkillers. His knee was much better now, and he tried not to take pills more than he had to. It was a lot easier now that he wasn’t playing. With his fucked-up knee, he hadn’t been able to play without painkillers. These days it was more often a hangover that had him reaching for drugs.

He popped an Advil and washed it down with a glass of water from the sink in the island. The sink that was full of dishes.

Ugh.

With his glass of water, he rounded the island and walked across the family room to the French doors that opened onto a deck and the yard, a big green space of lawn and shrubs. He turned and crossed to the huge gray sectional and sat on it.

A strange restlessness filled him. His muscles twitched and sitting still was impossible. He set the glass on the coffee table and rose again. Fuck. This was crazy. That woman had just walked into the coffee shop and dropped a fucking firebomb on him. What the hell?

He pulled his cellphone out and quickly entered the password to unlock it, then found Dougie’s phone number.

“Hey, man,” he said when his buddy answered. “What’s up?”

“Who is this?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Drew rolled his eyes as he paced across the room. “As if you don’t know. Listen, I’ve got a huge goddamn problem.”

Chapter 2

Peyton peered at the call display on her office phone. Her sister’s name appeared there and she grabbed the receiver. “Sara?”

“No, it’s me, Chloe.”

Peyton blinked, her stomach dropping. “Chloe. Hi. How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Her niece’s voice wobbled. “But Mom’s not doing so good.”

“Oh, no.” Peyton straightened. “What’s happening?”

“She’s just so weak…she’s trying hard not to show it, but I’m scared.”

Peyton’s heart contracted. “Do you want me to come?”

“Yes,” Chloe nearly whispered. “Could you?”

“Of course.” Never mind that she had client meetings, internal team meetings, training and onboarding sessions to conduct. And never mind that Sara and Chloe were in Chicago and she was in New York. This was her sister and her niece, pretty much the only family she had left. She’d anticipated this day would come, knowing there was no more treatment that would help Sara’s cancer.

Shit, shit, shit.She closed her eyes briefly at the fear that swept over her in a cold wave. Sara was dying.

They knew this. That didn’t make it easier.

“I’m going to check flights, pack a suitcase, and I’ll be there tomorrow,” she told Chloe. “Okay, sweetie?”

“Thank you, Auntie P. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Chloe had called her Auntie P since she’d started talking.

“You did the right thing to call me. Your mom is very stubborn and independent.”

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