The Chance: A Novel by Karen Kingsbury

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, lookingover 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