Page 26 of Songs for Libby

CHAPTER EIGHT

Visiting Sean the next morning, I couldn’t help but notice that Randy was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure why I expected him to be there. He wasn’t Sean’s family. He wasn’t his babysitter. He had other clients. He had a wife. He had a life.

Sean had none of those things. He had his music, his fans, and me.

And if I was all he had, I should make myself useful by getting him home after he was discharged. I walked into his room, faking a cheery smile. “Hey,” I greeted, setting down a bag and pulling out some things I’d picked up from his house. Randy was going to have the housekeeper do it, but I insisted on doing it myself.

Sean didn’t respond, just looked at me, sullen, even when I pulled out his pillow and replaced the one he’d been complaining about. As I was adjusting it behind his head, he grabbed my hand, forcing me to stop and look at him.

“You don’t have to baby me, Libby.”

I scoffed. “I’m not babying you.”

He looked like he wanted to argue more, but instead he just sighed and sank back, closing his eyes.

“You okay?” I asked.

“My hand doesn’t work,” he bit out without looking at me. “No. I’m not okay.”

“Your hand doesn’t work right now, but it will.”

“Yeah, when? How much time? How much time will I lose in the recording studio? How many tour dates will I miss?”

I pressed my lips, not in the mood to indulge his diva moment. “The world’s not going to end just because you miss a couple tour dates.” I gave him a hard stare. “You’re going to recover. Life will go on. And while I’m not a fan of kicking a man when he’s down, I do feel the need to point out that this isn’t something that happened to you.” I said with a bite. “You did this to yourself.”

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t lecture me.”

“Don’t say stupid stuff that deserves a lecture.”

We stared at each other, caught in a battle of wills. I thought of Serena, the way she had so easily handled him. She had the skills to squash his ego and put him in his place while still making him smile and feel loved. How I wished she were here now, for myriad reasons.

I gave up on the staring contest and went down to the cafeteria to cool off, once more running into Naomi. She was starting to feel like a constant fixture in this place. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said as she slid her tray onto the table across from me. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“So, how’s your complicated man today?”

“Whiny. How’s your dad?”

She let out a half sigh, half groan. “More tests. Most scans.”

“I’m sorry,” I commiserated. “How long has he been here so far?”

“Almost a week.”

“Geez. I’m sorry. Are you here every day?”

She tipped her head from side to side as she chewed and speared another bit of salad. “Pretty much. I’m the single daughter with no children, which apparently means none of my siblings need to come check on him.” She stabbed her lettuce with extra fury.

“What about your mom?”

“She has to keep up appearances.”

“What appearances?”

“Nope.” She wagged her fork at me. “First rule of VIP wing. Don’t ever identify your VIP.”

I laughed at her total misquote and we ended up exchanging numbers before parting ways. Naomi and I understood each other.