Chapter 36

On Saturday Danny spent a miserable morning doing his best to scrub the house so that it wasn't a complete pit when his wife arrived. It was a passable job but it certainly wasn't the way Linda would have done it. He put a bottle of Tylenol into the medicine cabinet and shut the door before unleashing a heavy sigh. He'd spent the night thinking about how he'd left things with Lauren and the look on her face when he left. He wondered if she hated him for doing it. He hated himself that was for sure.

Linda and the boys arrived around noon. Danny helped get the bags out of the car and they all shared lunch. The boys filled it with almost ceaseless chatter, which kept the awkwardness at bay. A short time later, Jack and Sean went outside to see their friends from down the street. Linda finished throwing a load of the boys' clothes into the laundry, and as she did, she covertly looked at her husband. To be honest, Danny looked like crap. He obviously hadn't been sleeping well and up until 10 minutes ago, he clearly hadn't shaved in several days either. She'd heard briefly from Erin about the kidnapping case when they'd spoken on the phone, but it was more than that.

"Linda, can we talk for a sec?" asked Danny when she came out of the laundry room.

"Sure." She put the empty basket down and tugged at the hem of her shirt. Linda steeled herself, wondering what might come out of Danny's mouth.

"I… I think… We…" He sighed and looked down.

Oh, God. He wants a divorce. She closed her eyes. "Just spit it out, Danny. Say what you have to say."

"I think we need to try, Linda. I ended things with Lauren. We're done."

Linda's eyes flew open. "What?" Beyond that one question, she was speechless.

"I told Lauren that I had to try making this work between us. That I had to put my family first." He knew he'd done the right thing, but Danny felt like a shell of a man. Hollow, empty, aching. He'd hardly slept since breaking off his relationship with Lauren, and it had taken remarkable willpower to not call her to see how she was.

"You really want to try making our marriage work?" Linda offered a tentative smile as Danny reached out and took her hand.

"I do. I do still love you, Linda. I just… we just…" His inability to articulate what he was thinking frustrated Danny.

"We stopped trying," said Linda. "We both did. When there was too much going on, it was too easy to sacrifice each other. I'm glad you want to try, Danny. I'm really glad." She put her arms around him and put her hand on the back of his head. Danny shook a little in her arms and Linda realized he was trying not to cry. She wondered if he was crying over what we was trying to regain, or what he was losing and decided that she really didn't want to know. After a deep breath, Danny collected himself.

"So, what do we do now? What do you want to do?" he asked.

"About us?"

"About us."

"I want us to see a marriage counselor," she said. "And I want us to talk with Father Rob."

Inside, Danny recoiled. He wasn't crazy about the idea of talking to Father Rob about all of this, and he especially didn't want to be confessing his sins and mistakes to some shrink. But, he'd told himself that he would do whatever Linda wanted to try getting them back on track. Linda watched his face carefully; she knew how he felt about therapists.

"Fine," he said. "We'll go."

"Thank you, Danny." For the first time in a long time, Linda felt her shoulders relax. Maybe there was some hope after all.

Where there was hope in the Reagan house, there seemed little more than despair in Lauren's apartment. She spent a large part of Saturday aimlessly trying to get things done to no avail. Augie texted her several times and she answered a few, and ignored most of them. Sunday was little better and she found herself alternating between wanting to call Danny, and wanting to find some way to make all the pain and despair fade away.

On Monday, Augie arrived at the studio. Tisha was in Studio A with Mike, DJ and Stevie when he got there. They knew Fitz had an early meeting and wouldn't be there for another hour. When he walked in the others looked up, expecting to see Lauren with him.

"Where is she?" asked Mike.

"I just got a text. She's stuck in traffic. Probably here in 15," said Augie.

"How is she doing?" That question came from Stevie, and Augie shrugged.

"I don't really know. She was a wreck on Friday when she called me. She thinks she's an idiot, and that there's something wrong with her…" Augie answered as he remembered Friday night:

Curled in the corner of the sofa, hugging a pillow close to her, Lauren held a fist full of tissues in her free hand. Augie sat near her and let her cry or talk or yell; whatever she needed to do.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered. "I love him so much. And I've loved him for so long… what's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Lauren." Augie tried to soothe her.

"Of course there is." The tears started again. "There must be. Twice now, I've lost him. What about me wasn't enough for him back in high school? Isn't enough for him now?"

"That's not true, Lauren. You were enough for him, you are. But think about it. Could you really see him living our lives? On the road, the constant drama? Imagine how he would feel every time you had a crowd of groupies wanting your autograph, your attention… how would he feel every time he heard some groupie scream out that he wanted to do you on the tour bus…"

Augie was right and she knew it, but it didn't make her feel better. Breaking up with Danny all those years ago had ripped open a part of her heart and soul and she'd spent years trying to fill it. And with a few words, it had been ripped open all over again, as raw and painful as it ever was before.

"I'm an idiot, Augie. A Goddamn idiot. What made me think he would ever love me enough to come with me?" Lauren shrugged morosely.

The circuitous conversation continued for hours until Lauren finally exhausted herself and, wrung out, allowed herself to be put to bed. Augie made sure she was asleep before sending a simple text to the band to tell them what had happened. Lauren found him in the morning folded into the recliner, the TV still on and she sent him home after a brief argument. She eventually won; Lauren didn't want company. She wanted to be alone with her misery.

"…I haven't see her since then. Got a couple texts, but that's it. I'm going to bet she's not much better."

"I knew he was a douche-bag." DJ's voice was angry. "Breaking her heart like that. The asshole. He'd better not show his face around here."

Of everyone in the band, DJ was probably the one who caused the most drama amongst and between the members. Regardless of the crap he stirred up, he was probably also the most protective. The band was his family, and he believed in the philosophy that he could mess with his family as much as he wanted, but if anyone else messed with them? God help them.

Lauren arrived about 20 minutes later muttering about the traffic and the stupid drivers. Everyone looked up when she came in and then tried not to look like they were looking. Lauren looked worn out. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was pale. Tisha immediately pulled Lauren into a hug.

"Girl, if you need to go out and have some girl-to-girl time, you call me and I'll take care of everything. You doing okay?"

Lauren nodded but said nothing.

"I am not kidding," said Tisha. "You call me."

The rest of the band each said something, but didn't want to make a big deal of it, thinking that getting into the music would be the best thing for everyone. They picked and tinkered for a few hours before breaking for a short lunch. Lauren only picked at her food, saying she'd eaten a big breakfast and was still full. No one believed her. She eventually went into one of the other studio rooms and sat down at the keyboard setup. She ran a finger back and forth over the keys.

"Push over," said DJ. "You're hogging the whole seat." Lauren obliged and he sat down. With the two of them on the bench, there wasn't much room. He glanced over at her and although she was looking straight ahead DJ could see tears sliding down her cheek.

"I know I've always given you shit about your boyfriends, but I really am sorry, Lauren. I know this one was different. I've never seen you like that with anyone else."

"Thanks, DJ." Her smile was sad. "There isn't anyone else like him; not for me."

"But he's still a dick for hurting you like this. I can go rough him up in a parking lot if you want. Would that make you feel better?"

"No, you don't have to do that. I'd prefer that you not get shot by his partner. Tina would kick my ass."

Lauren reached out and picked out three notes on the keyboard. DJ reached out as well and mimicked the notes. Lauren played a few more notes and DJ repeated those. Lauren's next set was more complicated and faster, and DJ matched it perfectly, and a tiny smile cracked Lauren's serious expression. A few moments later they were furiously playing simultaneous versions of "Chopsticks." After, Lauren rested her head on DJ's shoulder.

"Thanks, DJ."

"Your my girl, Lauren. You're our girl, and we've got your back."