her seat. Muttering an apology to the woman behind her, she slyly took another peek at the door.
Jordan took Regan by the shoulders, turning her toward the stage, the clanking of metal on metal sounding. Jordan was wearing a red fluffy handcuff on her right hand. Ava had a matching cuff on her left. Regan raised a brow.
“Last night, Mr. Sex with Wheels decided to play Romeo and climb the trellis.”
“He was dropping off my homework,” Ava fumed, crossing her arms and jerking Jordan’s hand to the side.
“In the bathtub?” Jordan jerked back. Ava rolled her eyes so hard, Regan was surprised they didn’t fall out.
“I felt the testosterone all the way downstairs. By the time I busted through the bathroom door”—Jordan leaned closer to Regan and lowered her voice—“Mr. Sex was about to become Mr. Bubbles.”
“Did you call the cops?” Regan was not looking forward to the teen years.
“Barney Fife? Are you kidding? That boy has five inches on the sheriff. I grabbed the plunger and started swinging at crotch level, yelling about my knife collection and castration. Then I called Gabe. He and the DeLuca men paid the kid and his father a visit. Mr. Sex on Wheels is now missing his wheels. But just in case he decides to bust out the Huffy”—Jordan held up their linked hands—“we’re conjoined until she turns eighteen.”
Regan wondered if maybe she should be cuffed to Jordan’s other hand. She and Gabe didn’t sound all that different from the horny teen couple. Making out in alleyways, meeting on lunch breaks for a little snack that had nothing to do with food, deflowering his new swing cushion.
The St. Vincent’s high school band took their seats and the lights went black. Regan looked over her shoulder one last time.
“He’ll be here,” Jordan whispered over the swelling music. “When I was leaving the office, I ran into Marc and Nate in the parking lot. They both looked constipated and asked if Gabe was still there. So I imagine he’s trying to solve another one of their self-made problems.”
Regan didn’t hear anything else because the curtain opened and standing middle stage was Holly. She was curled up in a ball on an enormous cat bed surrounded by giant candy canes and sugarplums. Balls of yarn the size of truck tires hung from the ceiling, each one with a swinging Saints cheerleader in a metallic space suit. It was like the Nutcracker fell down Alice’s hole and wound up in a club in Vegas. And the crowd went wild.
Christmas Kitty opened her eyes and stretched and, sitting up, let out the perfect purr. It was sleepy and adorable and flawlessly executed. Unable to contain herself, Regan clapped and Holly’s eyes flew to hers and paused...for only a second. Long enough to let Regan know that Holly knew she was there. And that the seat to her left was still painfully empty.
Regan smiled brighter, clapped twice as hard, trying to make up for the empty seat—something she had done Holly’s entire life. Suddenly, Christmas Kitty smiled and, eyes on the back of the theater, started making muffins on the bed.
Regan turned around and saw Gabe, looking sexy in a pair of slacks and a dark blue button-down. He stared at the stage, a big smile on his face as he winked at Holly. Regan waved him over. His smile faded and he continued to stare at the stage, past her.
She waved again, thinking he’d somehow missed her in the crowded theater. He didn’t wave back. In fact, he walked to the opposite side of the room and took a seat against the far wall next to one of his brothers. She wasn’t sure which one; they all looked the same to her. Big, bad, Italian, and mean.
Regan dug through her purse, pulled out her phone, and dialed Gabe. She watched as he checked the screen, sent her to voice mail, and pocketed his phone. He whispered something to his brother.
Big and Bad nodded, whispered back, and then looked over at Regan. She would have to revise her earlier assessment. Mean didn’t even begin to cover the look he shot her before jerking his chin in her direction.
Gabe looked up.
Regan smiled, once again trying to make up for whatever she was lacking. Gabe looked at her and then back at the stage, whispering to his brother again. And just like the chair, something inside Regan went painfully empty.
She fought to keep her smile in place, to keep the panic