Page 116 of Sing For Me

“Because she’s talking and it’s polite to look at the people who are talking to you?”

I glare up at him and he does laugh then. “Cool out, Mama Bear. He’s not going to bite.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” I hear how petulant I sound and Will laughs again.

I introduce him to Dennis, who studies him with an expression I can’t quite read before turning his attention to me. “There are a couple things I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, and I get the feeling he’s intentionally keeping his voice low so as not to include Will in the conversation.

Before I can answer, Marissa is at my side, glaring at him with the expression she seems to reserve only for my manager.

“She’s not talking about work at her birthday party, Dennis.”

He holds up his hands. “It’s not work related.”

Her eyes narrow even more. “I don’t believe you.”

I press a hand to her forearm, squeezing gently. “It’s fine, Mar. Why don’t you introduce Will to Vicky? I don’t think they’ve officially met yet.”

She doesn’t look at all happy about it, but she does as I ask, Will shooting me a concerned look over his shoulder as they walk away.

“That woman needs to calm down,” he mutters.

“She just worries.”

He directs his attention back to me and visibly relaxes the scowl from his face, replacing it with a smile. A smile that somehow doesn’t look as genuine as I’m used to from him.

“I want you to go see this doctor.” He pulls a white card from his pocket. “I’ve been asking around and I think he can really help you.”

I glance down at the name and find it unfamiliar. “Why do you want me to see a new doctor?” After the fire, Marissa worked to find me the most well-respected doctors on the West Coast. I’ve been working with the same team since that first awful week in the hospital. They know my history, know all the details of my case.

More importantly, I’m familiar with them. I’m comfortable with them. And that makes a difference in a relationship that, by nature, includes a lot of uncomfortable poking and prodding. It’s still difficult for me to allow physical closeness with strangers.

“This doctor.” He taps the card in my hand. “Is very well recommended. I spoke with him myself. He expressed some concerns about your treatment plan.”

I frown. He had told someone I’ve never even met about my treatment plan?

“According to him, replacement should not be necessary at this stage.”

I gape up at my manager. “But…I don’t understand. We’ve tried all the other options. Surgeries, physical therapy. Everyone agrees that I need a new hip.”

I swallow hard. It’s an eventuality that I try hard not to think about. I hate being in the hospital, hate how powerless and exposed it makes me feel. I’ve already had several surgeries to attempt to heal the torn ligaments and set the affected bones and joint, not to mention plastic surgery to try and mitigate the scarring from the burns. The recovery process sucks and I know a full replacement will be so much worse.

But I’ve known for a while now it’s going to happen. The pain and swelling and loss of mobility I experience will only get worse and worse.

“He disagrees. He’s quite sure he can lessen the difficulties with a different treatment plan. I think you should meet with him.”

“I don’t know…” Of course I would love to avoid the surgery. But something about this conversation is ringing alarm bells in my head.

“Just think about it,” he urges, closing my hand around the card. “We want to explore all the options, right? And besides, now that you’re playing again, I bet you’ll be itching to get into the studio sooner than later. That’s going to be hard to do if you’re recovering from a hip replacement.”

My stomach drops at his words. I had mentioned to him that I’d been playing piano a bit since the trip to Tennessee but the idea that I might be ready to record soon is incredibly farfetched. I’m about to tell him that when Kat appears at our side.

“Hey,” she says brightly, even as she shoots a dark look in Dennis’s direction. “We’re going to do the cake in a bit.”

“As much as I’d love to stay for that, I have another obligation this evening.” He swoops in and presses twin kisses to my cheeks. “Happy birthday, Eva. It’s great to see you doing so well.”

“Thanks for coming, Dennis,” I say, fidgeting with the edges of the card.

He says goodbye to my sister and then leaves the room without a word to anyone else. Kat watches him go with narrowed eyes. “What did he want?”