The Chance: A Novel (9 page)

But he stopped himself.

By now she would’ve forgotten her parents’ fight. She’d probably had a great night with Nolan, talking under the trees and listening to music and being a kid. Ellie was entitled to a good night’s sleep, entitled to sweet dreams. The news that her mother was pregnant with another man’s child, that Ellie was moving to San Diego with her dad, would grow her up in a hurry. Alan ached for her. He would tell her tomorrow. He wouldn’t interrupt the sanctity of the moment.

Her final night of childhood.

T
he conversation with Lena and Stu was brief. They wanted Caroline to call a counselor in the morning. Seek intervention
immediately so that somehow, by some miracle, her marriage could be saved. Caroline listened and nodded. But the talk was pointless. There was no way back. Alan Tucker would never love her again.

She retreated to the guest room and let the memories surface once more until they were in plain sight of her heart. And suddenly, she was there again, at that first Peyton Anders concert.

From the minute Peyton took the stage that night at the Savannah Civic Center, he seemed to sing to her alone. Their eyes met, and at first even Lena thought it was nothing more than harmless fun. Flirty interactions between an entertainer and a fan. The sort of thing a guy like Peyton probably did every night.

Caroline figured the exchange was something she and Lena would laugh about when they were old someday. The night the famous Peyton Anders had singled Caroline Tucker out of the whole audience and made her head spin.

But after a few songs, the brief looks became an occasional wink, and as the concert played on Caroline allowed herself to believe that she and Peyton were the only ones in the auditorium. Near the end of his set, he motioned for her to go to the side stage. At the same time, two guys from his crew appeared near the steps. They waved her over as Peyton took a brief break. He drank back half a bottle of water and then smiled at the audience. “They say Savannah has the prettiest ladies in the South.”

Caroline remembered how she felt, her heart in her throat, as she waited near the side stage. Peyton was going on. “All night I’ve been noticing one very pretty little lady.” He shrugged, his boyish grin beyond charming. Somehow he
managed to look like a middle-school kid crushing on his friend’s older sister. “What can I say? I can’t sing this next song without her.”

The crowd cheered, the sound deafening. By then the two men had led Caroline up onto the stage. She could still see herself waiting in the wings, dressed in a white blouse, her best jeans, and cowboy boots, her knees shaking.

“Come on, sweetheart, come on out here.”

Caroline felt like she’d fallen into a dream.
This can’t be happening,
she told herself. He was famous and eight years younger. She was a member of the PTSA, not the Peyton Anders Fan Club. But what could she do now? She came tentatively to him, the applause and howls rattling her nerves. When she reached him, he took her hand. “What’s your name, darling?” He held the microphone out to her.

“Caroline.” She blinked, blinded by the glare of the spotlight. “Caroline Tucker.”

Peyton chuckled and looked at the audience. “Caroline Tucker, ladies and gentlemen. Is she beautiful or what?”

More cheers and applause. Caroline tried to exhale. She had to be dreaming. That was the only way to explain it. By then the kind words Alan once lavished on her had long since given way to functional conversation. How was Ellie doing in school? Why hadn’t the laundry been done? When was she going to call the plumber about the broken drain in the bathroom sink? That sort of thing. Alan came home tired and distracted. Some days he barely glanced at her as he walked through the door, so it wasn’t a surprise that she hadn’t felt pretty in months. Old and weary, lonely and uncertain. Tired and used up. All of those.

But not beautiful.

One of Peyton’s guys brought over a bar stool, and Peyton held her hand while she climbed onto it. Then he sang her the title song of his newest album. The song that had inspired the tour: “Whatever You’re Feeling.” The lights and crowd and applause faded away as Peyton sang and Caroline held her breath. Every line, every lyric, every word seemed written for her and this strange connection between them, a connection that had happened in as much time as it took her to breathe. Even now the lyrics were as familiar as her name.

Now that we’re both here

Nothing left to fear

We could have it all

So let your heart fall

Here in this moment that we’re stealing

Baby, I am feeling

The same thing you are feeling

Whatever you are feeling.

When he finished the song, he hugged her, and in a way no one could’ve detected, he whispered, “Give your number to my guys.” Then he smiled at the audience. “Caroline Tucker, ladies and gentlemen.”

She walked off the stage, dizzy and excited and sick to her stomach. Two thoughts consumed her. First, she’d committed what had to be an unforgivable sin: She had been attracted to another man. And second, nothing was going to stop her from rattling off her home phone number to one of the guys. Peyton Anders had that sort of intoxicating effect on her.

Before she could make her way back to her seat, Peyton finished his set and joined her in the dark cramped wings backstage.
And there, among speaker boxes and electrical cords, sweaty and breathing hard, he came to her. He didn’t hesitate. “That was amazing.” He put his hand on the side of her face, and even in the dark, she could see the desire in his eyes. Still breathless from the show and without waiting another moment, he kissed her.

Peyton Anders kissed her.

She didn’t have to say anything to Lena when she returned to her seat. Her expression must’ve given her away. The entire audience could probably tell. Lena scowled as Peyton’s fans screamed for an encore. Over the deafening noise, she leaned in and shouted, “You kissed him, didn’t you?”

Caroline couldn’t lie. She also couldn’t feel bad about it. Not when she’d just had the most amazing night in years. Maybe ever. She and Lena argued about it on the way home, and Caroline dismissed her actions. The blame was Alan’s. He was the one who had stopped loving her. Besides, Peyton Anders wasn’t a threat to her marriage. “He’ll never call. It was a fan thing. Nothing more.” She had felt herself blushing as she justified the kiss. “You know, caught up in the moment.”

“You don’t need a kiss from Peyton Anders, Carrie. You need marriage counseling.”

Their conversation didn’t end until Lena dropped her off. Caroline figured that was that, but she was wrong. Peyton’s first phone call came at two in the morning. Caroline was awake, on the far side of the bed, reliving every minute of the concert. Since it was Friday night, Alan had been home. Caroline grabbed the phone and glanced at her husband. He was still asleep. She hurried out of the room and into the kitchen at the other end of the house. “Hello?” she whispered, looking
over her shoulder. Even now she remembered being terrified Alan would wake up.

“Baby, it’s me. Peyton.” His words ran together as if he’d been drinking. “Tonight was heaven. When can I see you again?”

In a decision she would question until her final sunset, Caroline thought about Alan in the other room, about how she had once loved him and longed to be married to him. Then she thought of how he’d left her lonely so often. She clenched her teeth for half a second and rattled off a different number. The doctor’s office where she worked. She told Peyton three things. First, he could call her only at work. Second, she was married, so they had to be careful. And third, she couldn’t wait to see him again.

From that moment there was no doubt about their feelings. The intensity of their passion, the impossibility of it, brought them closer every time they talked. Caroline never could really believe Peyton Anders was calling
her
. He must’ve had dozens of groupies in every city. Why would he seek her out? She let herself be carried away by the thrill of it all, convinced nothing would come of it. The phone calls went on for a year until Peyton came back to Savannah the following January. Peyton arranged for her to be backstage during the show, and she said nothing about it to Lena. After the concert, Caroline and Peyton made out for half an hour in a private room backstage. Caroline remembered telling Peyton she needed to leave, that she couldn’t lose control. It was one thing to flirt with the singer by phone, one thing to kiss him backstage. Those things were only a diversion for her otherwise nonexistent love life.

But she cared about Alan too much to have a real affair.

When she said good-bye to Peyton that night, he whispered, “One of these days I’ll quit touring, and it’ll be me and you. I’ll move you to Nashville, and we’ll start a life together.”

Caroline only smiled. She never would have considered such a thing, but she didn’t owe Peyton an explanation. The fascination with him was nothing more than a fantasy.

The next day at the office, Lena called. “You went to his show last night, didn’t you? To the concert?”

“Lena, this isn’t the time for—”

“Listen. You’re gonna go destroy everything that matters, Carrie. Think about Ellie . . . and Alan. You promised that man forever.” She waited. “You listening?”

“Yes.” Caroline sighed. “How was your dinner with Stu?”

“Carrie.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. He left town this morning. He’s just a friend.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

And so it went. Later that spring when Alan told her he still loved her and that they should get counseling, Caroline felt a ray of hope. But six months later, they still hadn’t found the time or the counselor.

On their next anniversary, Alan took her to dinner, but the whole night he looked defeated. She was sure her expression wasn’t much different. “I feel . . . like I’m losing you.” He sat across from her, struggling to make eye contact. “Like we’re losing us.” He reached for her hands, and for a moment they both seemed to remember how much they’d lost. “If I’ve been a terrible husband, Caroline, I’m sorry. I never meant to be.”

She tried to smile. “I keep thinking things will get better.”

“You deserve better.”

Caroline thought about Peyton. Yes, she and Alan both deserved better. That night he promised things that made Caroline forget anyone but her husband. But come morning he was gone again, another week of work. A month later his promises were all but forgotten. By then, Ellie spent more time at Nolan’s house than she did at home. Some nights Caroline looked at her wedding photos and cried for the love they’d had back then, the love they’d lost along the way. They were both to blame, and the answers didn’t seem to exist.

The phone calls from Peyton continued, and when he came to town the next time—just four months ago—he insisted she come to the show early. They texted right up until she arrived and he met her at the backstage door. They stepped inside the arena and hugged for a long time. “I love you, Caroline. I think about you constantly.”

His words frightened her. “Love, Peyton?” She drew back, searching his face. “This isn’t about love.”

“It is. I love you. I do.” He looked hurt. “There’s no one in my life like you, baby. You’re on my mind every hour, every day.” He kissed her, a dangerously passionate kiss that made her forget anything but the man in her arms. He stared at her, breathless. “You have to believe me, baby.”

Over the next ten minutes, her defenses fell. She hadn’t pictured this, never imagined it. But long before he took the stage, he convinced her he was telling the truth. She wasn’t a diversion or a fantasy or a game. Peyton Anders actually loved her.

Then he dropped the news. “I have four days off.” He raised his brow, nervous and tentative. He trembled as he looked deep into her eyes, straight to her weary soul. “I booked us a room.”

“What?”

“A room.” He moved closer to her. “Come on, Caroline. We can’t stop this.” He kissed her again, longer this time.

The combination of her ice-cold marriage and Peyton’s passionate kiss pushed Caroline over the edge. She drew back, breathless and beyond her ability to reason. “After the show . . . take me there.”

And so he did.

They found a routine. She spent every daylight hour with him and they never left his room, as if nothing and no one but Peyton existed. She called in sick and came home late each night. During her few hours at home she would make lunch for Ellie, and in the morning talk to her for a few minutes, as long as the shame would allow. Then she would head for the hotel.

It was just four days. She figured she would never get caught.

But that Friday, Alan returned from the base early and questioned Ellie. When he found out Caroline hadn’t come home until ten o’clock for the last three nights, he took up his position by the front door. His eyes were the first thing she saw when she crept into the house that night.

He glared at her, his teeth clenched, and called her things that stayed with her like skin. Names she couldn’t escape. And every day since then, they’d fought and thrown accusations at each other like so many hand grenades. Tension filled the house, and Ellie stayed away more than ever. She had grown up, and now she was a beautiful reminder of all that Caroline herself had been as a teenage girl. But the closeness they shared when she was little was as gone as yesterday.