Page 23 of When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars 9)

As the years had passed, Olivia’s career had soared, while Rachel’s merely remained respectable, but that hadn’t interfered with their friendship. Olivia continued to recommend Rachel for roles. They laughed and cried together. Olivia had been at Rachel’s side when her mother had died, and Rachel had held Olivia’s hand through Adam’s horrible, soul-wrenching funeral, something neither of them would ever forget. As Olivia studied the menu, she pretended not to see her friend’s concerned look. Rachel was intuitive, and she knew more was wrong than Olivia was letting on.

Their server appeared. Dennis ordered a chopped Thai salad for Rachel and crab cakes for himself.

“He even orders for you,” Olivia said as the server disappeared.

“He knows what I like better than I do.”

Olivia had a flashback to Adam, who used to ask Olivia to order for him because he couldn’t make up his mind. Being around Dennis could be painful. His dedication to Rachel’s career formed a distinct contrast to the resentment Adam had worked so hard to suppress. Dennis was an opera singer’s dream husband.

Rachel unwrapped her napkin. “Tell me the story of how you and Dennis met.”

“Again?” Olivia said. “I’ve told you the story a dozen times.”

“I never get tired of hearing it.”

“She’s like a child,” Olivia remarked to Dennis. And then to Rachel, “Should I start before or after he hit on me?”

Dennis groaned.

“Before,” Rachel chirped.

Olivia settled in. “I’d just started my period, and I had crazy bad cramps—”

“And a sugar craving,” Rachel added.

“It’s my story,” Olivia protested. “Anyway, I decided to soothe myself with a Starbucks Red Velvet Frappuccino.”

Rachel, whose sweet tooth continued to plump up her curves, nodded. “Very sensible.”

“I’m standing in line and this crazy-looking musician type tries to strike up a conversation.”

Rachel poked her husband. “You were totally hitting on her.”

Olivia smiled and proceeded with the unnecessary story. “I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but he was persistent. And kind of cute.”

“And not a singer,” Rachel said. “Don’t forget the best part.”

“A techie, as I learned even before the barista finished making my Frappuccino.”

“Which he gallantly paid for.”

“And which made me feel obligated to talk to him. The rest is history.”

“You’re skipping the best part. The part where you gave him my phone number without asking my permission, even though he could have been a serial killer.”

“Which he wasn’t.”

“But I could have been,” Dennis said.

Olivia smiled. “I liked him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep him for myself because I was still under Adam’s spell.” The table sobered, and Rachel’s look of concern returned. Olivia assumed an overly bright smile. “Bottom line. I loved being maid of honor at your wedding last year.”

Rachel nodded. “And you sang the most beautiful ‘Voi che sapete’ anyone has ever heard.”

Their food arrived. Rachel was in town auditioning for a role next winter at the LA Opera and they began trading opera gossip—a tenor with too much head voice and a conductor who refused to give Rossini the room to breathe. They talked about the amazing acoustics at Hamburg’s Elbphilarmonie and a new biography of Callas.

Olivia envied the pride Dennis took in his wife’s accomplishments. Rachel’s career always came first, and he arranged his own work around her schedule. Unlike her life with Adam. Only now did Olivia see that Adam had been suffering from depression. He’d had trouble memorizing a new libretto, and his periods of insomnia alternated with nights he’d sleep for twelve or thirteen hours. But instead of getting him to a doctor, she’d broken up with him. And now he was having his revenge.

This is your fault. Choke on it.

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