12
Peter
The next morning, Sara is quiet and a little distant, undoubtedly still dwelling on my solution to her patient’s problem. That’s not likely to lead anywhere good, so I seek to distract her by bringing up her new hobby: singing with the band.
“When is your next performance?” I ask over breakfast. “I’ve seen the videos of you on stage, but I’d love to see it in person.”
She looks up from her omelet, blinking as if just refocusing on me. “Oh, I actually meant to tell you. Our guitarist, Phil, texted me late last night. He’s secured a gig for us tomorrow night, but only if everyone can make it on short notice. Do you think we can move the dinner with my parents to Saturday?”
My first impulse is to say no. I’ve been counting on having her to myself after the dinner—an event that w
