Daphne Vs. Daddy

But Becca is right; the show does end tonight, and why would he stay after the show ends? There’s no point in that. It’s not like he loves New York City like I do. It’s not like he’s going to move here, just so he can breathe the same air I do.

It’s not like I want him to do that.

Right?

I realize that there are tears dripping down my face. I’m so embarrassed. I dash at my face with the back of my hands. Without a word, Becca picks up a cocktail napkin and offers it to me. I dab at my face, trying not to smear my makeup everywhere, but let’s be honest – I’ve never been a pretty crier.

“Honey, you haven’t said much about Chase to me, but I do know that you’ve been damn miserable these last two weeks,” she says, stroking her hand through my hair consolingly. “If he is what makes you happy, you have to go after him.”

The opera music – if you can call it music – reaches a crescendo, making it hard to talk. I wait for it to die down before saying, “But he’s a cowboy. What does a cowboy and a city girl have in common?”

“You should go talk to him and find out. You have to try. Girl, you have it worse than any person I’ve ever seen. You look like shit. You’re lucky I’m willing to be seen in public with you.” I let out a sharp bark of laughter and she just shrugs with a grin. “That’s what kind of friend I am, willing to go out into public with a zombie.” I wad up my cocktail napkin and throw it at her. She bats it away with a laugh. “But seriously, if you love him, you have to give it all you've got. Or you’re going to regret it later.”

I stand up, throw back the last of my iced tea, and give Becca a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear. “Thank you for everything.”

“You know it,” she says with a smile. “Now go kick some ass! Or, at least kiss some cowboys. Close enough.”

Yeah, close enough.

I hurry out of the Papillon, my ears thanking me for that, even as I pull my phone out and text for an Uber. It looks like there’s one close by, and I watch it on the screen impatiently. It’s already 10:30 pm. I have to get to the arena ASAP. I have to get my ass in gear.

The Uber pulls up in front of me, and with a sigh of relief, I jump in. “Madison Square Garden,” I say, and then, I have to wait. My fingers are drumming nervously on my thigh. I’m watching the streets flash by; I’m watching the pedestrians wander down the street. How many of them are in love? How many of them have found what I have? How many of them wish they’d found what I have?

You have to give it all you've got. Or you’re going to regret it later.

I’d already spent the last two weeks in a world of regret. It’s about time I start making decisions that I will want to wake up to in the morning.

Or wake up with.

Can I move to Texas? Can I become a housewife? I wonder if there’s takeout in Texas. Surely they’ve learned the concept of delivery out there, right? I’m pretty sure they’ve figured out how a phone works. I can survive in Texas. I can survive anywhere, as long as I have Chase by my side.

I jump out of the Uber as soon as it pulls to a stop in front of the MSG. I stare up at it and realize – the lights are dark. Everyone is gone.

I pull my employee pass out of my pocket and slide it through a card reader, letting me through a side door and into the arena. Maybe he’s still here. Maybe he’s giving extra oats to Moonshine. Maybe he’s...

Only the security lights are on. I stumble a couple of times in the darkness, and then I realize that tears are swimming in my vision, blinding me.

Twice in one day. For someone who never cries, I’m starting to set personal records here.

But...

But no Chase?

I stop, looking around me wildly. I can’t find him anywhere, I can’t...

I start bawling, tears streaming down my face, inconsolable in the semi-darkness. Just me and the MSG arena. I can’t see, I can’t breathe. I can only cry.

I’m too late.

46

Chase

I’m running a curry brush over Moonshine’s sleek flanks, talking quietly to him.

“Hey boy,” I say. “It’s time to head back home. Are you ready?” His ears flicker at my words, and I wonder again how much he understands. Does he know the word ‘home’?

I continue brushing him, watching the flickering coat under the brush in the pale light that the security guard let me keep on. Usually, they would’ve kicked me out already, but I told the guard I needed a little more time to clean up, and after being won over by Moonshine’s personality, even feeding him a small container of oats, the guard agreed to give me as much time as I needed.