Page 97 of Sing For Me

“It is cool.” I run a hand over my jaw. “I’m sorry, man. She’s just a little gun-shy about being in front of a crowd.”

I don’t want to tell Jude about Reese’s ex—it’s none of his business and her story to tell—but Jude doesn’t press.

He nods almost sagely, before taking a swig of his beer. “Some guys hated that part,” he says.

I know he’s talking about tennis, and I know he says that in a way that indicates he didn’t hate that part, but he gets it at least. For all his goofiness, the guy isn’t an idiot.

“Hey, how’s Jack?” I ask.

Jude grins, looking as glad as I am that I’ve changed the subject to my nephew.

“Cap,” he says.

“That’s still going on?” After watchingCaptain America, and all the Marvel movies in quick succession, Jack insisted on being called Cap. I’m surprised it’s stuck now that he’s moved on to other kid obsessions.

“I think it’s for good, honestly.”

I smile. “That’s cool.”

Jude grins, going off on Cap and what he’s been up to lately.

It’s Jude’s same lighthearted, never-take-anything-seriously quality I let get to me that makes him such a good dad. He talks to Cap like he’s his buddy rather than his son, though he’s still good at setting boundaries and expectations. Cap is a great kid, and all the credit should go to the special relationship he and his dad have.

It comes naturally to Jude, unlike me. While I always wanted kids, before I started the little league thing, I had no idea what to do with them, because I’d never spent time around them. Kelly tended to have us drift away from our friends once they had kids—maybe because she preferred to do the kinds of things where they weren’t welcome. I still saw them sometimes, but it was hard when she refused.

It was Reese, actually, who inspired me to do the little league thing, I remember now.

I sneak a glance at her while Jude makes some huge gesture with his arms about a skateboard jump Jack did.

She’s talking to the woman behind the bar, laughing and eyeing the stage. She looks gorgeous, as usual, but also relaxed. At home.

She looks like she did the first time I met her, at a park, years ago, when I’d been looking after Jack. I’d said I had no idea what to do with a toddler.

“You just need to spend a bit of regular time with kids,” Reese had reassured me. “Get to know them. Talk to them like little people, and best of all, have fun with them. It’ll come.” Reese had nieces, and was a natural around them like Jude. They adored her, like most people did.

I started making a point of hanging out with Cap at family gatherings. But it was only when I started coaching little league that I really came into my own. Now I don’t know how I was ever unsure of myself—kids are a blast.

As Reese comes back to the table, I can’t help the image that flashes through my mind of a mini-Reese clinging to her mom’s hand. A little me, sitting on my knee while we watch his mom sing.

Now I’m getting way the fuck ahead of myself.

“Everything okay?” Reese asks when she reaches us, sitting down beside me.

“Yup,” I say, hanging an arm around her shoulder.

“Where’s Nora?” Jude asks, craning his neck to the bar for his best friend.

“Over there,” I say, spotting her scribbling something onto a clipboard and handing it to the guy at the sound booth.

“Oh God,” Reese says, squeezing my thigh so tight I wince. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “Damn straight it is.”

It’s twenty minutes before the guy in the booth calls Reese’s name, and by then, the place has started filling up. Several people have guitars; one guy even has a tambourine.

“Reese Franco?” the guy repeats.

“Reese?” I say.

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