Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Ella
Ironwood is still working on the case, but two days after we get back from the coast, they still don’t have any news.
I’m tempted to call Olivia and ask her to nudge her men to work faster, but I’m sure they’re all doing everything they can.
It’s just difficult when I have no idea what’s going on anymore.
Kingston’s apartment is quiet. Schrodinger snores on one of the sofas. Kingston has nicknamed him “Demon,” but whenever he says it, I pretend to cover Schrodinger’s ears.
It’s nearing lunchtime. King’s at the office, and Bash is running some errands. I should eat, but nothing looks good in the fridge.
Because I haven’t heard from Gianna in a few days, I send her a text.
Ella: Hey, if you’re free right now, can I take you out for lunch?
Gianna: Heck yes, I’m free. And I’m always starving these days.
Ella: What are you in the mood for?
Gianna: French fries. All the french fries. And a deli sandwich, if that sounds good to you?
Ella: Yes, it does! I’ll meet you at Woodstock in ten?
Gianna: More like twenty because I’m coming from Bellefleur, but yes!
I text a head’s up to my bodyguards and throw on a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top.
It’s too hot for pants. When I give myself a quick look-over in the mirror, my new necklace catches the bathroom light.
I run my fingers over the circle. So simple, so elegant.
So meaningful. I’m so gone for these men.
My guards—Cora and Squid, today—walk with me down Caro Boulevard to Woodstock Deli, where Gianna is waiting just inside the front door.
“Oh my gosh,” Gianna groans when she sees me. “You look all cute and summery and I look like a manatee in a muumuu.”
“Shut up, you’re gorgeous,” I say. “You’ve got a shine about you.”
It’s true, but it’s not entirely true. While there’s a definite pregnancy glow surrounding Gianna, and she definitely looks gorgeous, there are also dark circles under her eyes.
“You have a shine about you, too,” she says, taking me in. “I guess being in love suits you?”
“How did you know I’m in love—oh. Did Tommy tell you?”
She nods and looks furtively around the deli. “He said you have two boyfriends—is that for real?”
“Yeah,” I say with an awkward laugh.
Eyes twinkling, she grabs my arm and says, “I must. Know. Everything.”
“Let’s order some food and I’ll tell you all about it.”
When our food is ready, we find a small table off to the side and talk, and talk, and talk. I tell her all about Kingston and Sebastian, with some watered-down details of how we got together, and I even share minimally about how I used to hook up with Kingston’s son.
“Scandalous!” Gianna cries, cackling. “I freaking love it. Joel deserved for you to leave him—he sounds like a dickhead.”
“Oh, he is,” I say, but I decide to spare her the gorier details of the kidnapping and car accident.
I don’t want to dump my trauma all over the poor woman.
Better to change the subject. “How about you and Tommy? How’d you get together?
You said something about how he came to your diner all the time, and then what? ”
“He kept asking me out. Took me a while to say yes. Took even longer for…you know.” She blushes. “Sorry, you definitely don’t want those kinds of details about your brother!”
“Yeah, we can skip over that part,” I say, laughing. “And the pregnancy? Nosy question, but it doesn’t seem like it was planned…?”
“No, not planned,” she says, cradling her hands over her belly.
“But desired just the same. It took me a little while to notice I hadn’t had my period.
And even after that, I didn’t believe it, because we were using contraceptives.
But sometimes things fail, even an IUD. It’s super rare, but it happened to me. ”
“Yikes,” I say. I have an IUD. I never thought of it failing.
Come to think of it…when was my last period? Holy shit. It’s been a while. What is it, one week late? Two? My deli sandwich and fries sit uncomfortably in my stomach.
“Ella?” Gianna says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Lunch is suddenly not agreeing with me.”
“Nauseous?” she asks. “I have these ginger candies, they helped with my morning sickness, but I don’t need them anymore. Here, take a pack.”
I am not pregnant , I tell myself.
“Thanks.” I take the ginger candies and pop one into my mouth. It doesn’t do much to soothe my anxiety, but I smile in the right pauses as I tell Gianna I should probably get back to my place.
“Of course,” she says, hugging me outside the deli. “Thank you so much for lunch. I feel like…like maybe we’re going to be good friends.”
“I would love that,” I say sincerely.
“I hope you feel better,” she says with a wave goodbye.
My stomach is fine, physically. Emotionally, I’m shaken to my core. I need to get somewhere quiet and look at a calendar. I don’t track my periods because the IUD has made them irregular, but I still do get them. When was my last?
* * *
Sebastian
When I get back to King’s place—no, it’s my place now, too—Ella’s sitting on the sofa.
She isn’t reading, she isn’t watching a show.
She’s literally staring at a blank wall.
Schrodinger sits in her lap, but she isn’t petting him or paying him any attention at all.
It’s odd, but I’ve been known to stare into space while I work on lyrics or chords inside my head, so I go to the kitchen for a glass of water.
When I come back, she hasn’t snapped out of it.
“Let’s record that duet,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She jumps and startles the cat. “What?”
“Sorry,” I say with a laugh, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Her lips tilt up at the corners in a tiny smile. “Lost in thought is all. What did you ask about just now?”
“I was just thinking, if you’re ready to work with me on something, what do you think about recording that duet, where your song matches up with mine? We don’t even have to post it anywhere if you don’t want to—it can just be for us?—”
“I’d love to,” she says, beaming at me.
Something’s off in her eyes, though. She looks sad. The signs are subtle, but they’re there.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Still worried about your brother?”
“Yeah.” Her shoulders sag. “I just wish we had some news that’s more than still working on it or no news is good news .”
“I’m sure both of those statements from Ironwood are true,” I say, trying to move Schrodinger carefully from Ella’s lap and getting my hand swiped at in the process. “But I get it—they don’t sound particularly helpful right now.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Let’s go make some music, then. We can film as we work, so you’ll have some good stuff for your channel.”
“Do I need Helena to draw up a collaborator contract for us?” Ella jokes.
“Nope. If I don’t like what you’re doing, I’ll just spank you until you concede.”
“Ooh, sounds fun. Expect me to misbehave soon, then.”
The fourth bedroom is where we’ve set up the studio and all of its equipment.
It took us the better part of yesterday.
I wasn’t convinced, at first, that the space would be as good as the one I created at my apartment.
However, I was wrong. This one is bigger, the lighting is better so we won’t need to compensate with extra lamps, and there’s space to bring in more instruments, should we want them.
The loss of Ella’s keyboard is still pretty fresh for her—I know, because I asked—but eventually, Kingston and I want to buy a replacement.
Then again, with how well her VideYou channel is going, she might already be saving up.
Conversations for later. Right now, I just want to sing with my girl.
We turn on a couple of cameras at different positions in the room, then start tinkering with the MIDI keyboard and metronome.
“I’ll play guitar to help keep us in key,” I say, “unless you want to set up a drone instead?”
“No, the guitar is good. Unless you think my pitch starts to wander.”
“I’ve never noticed, but I know mine does without the guitar.”
We’ve sung together hundreds of times now, but we haven’t recorded anything like this.
Ella’s face is full of concentration, and also joy, as I play the opening chords of my song and start to sing.
After a couple of repetitions of the chord progression, Ella joins in, her voice harmonizing and accentuating my song, until her lyrics gain the same volume as mine.
Now it’s truly a duet, with the two of us together on equal footing.
When the song is over, we sing it a few more times.
By the time we’re finished, Kingston gets home from work. He and I get Ella naked. And in no time, she’s raising her voice in joy all over again.
* * *
Ella
Two days go by, and while I am seventy-five percent sure I’m not pregnant, there’s the twenty-five percent left over and it’s driving me absolutely nuts.
Not helping matters, my calendar is inconclusive. I can’t figure out when I had my last period.
I fiddle with my necklace, sliding the circle around and around and around.
My heartbeat pounds out a steady, what if, what if, what if .
What if I am pregnant? What if the guys don’t want a baby?
What if I don’t want a baby? I’ve done everything right to prevent one, but we could’ve done more.
We could’ve continued using condoms, on top of my birth control.
My phone chimes with a call, breaking my cycle of anxiety. The caller is Helena Tran, so I pick up. “Hello?”
“Ella, hi. Glad I caught you. Sunday night, there’s an opening at Red Letter. It’s yours if you can make it.”
Red Letter is exclusive and impossible for amateurs to get into. Pro-level artists only.
“I…”
“Let me help you out,” she says with a laugh. “ Yes, Helena, I will be at Red Letter on Sunday night because it’s the top club in SoCal and a wise career move, thank you so much, you’re the best agent ever .”
Laughing, I say, “Yes, all of that. Holy…wow. Helena, how did you do this? Isn’t Red Letter booked up, like, ten years in advance by artists who’ve gone platinum?”
“Something like that,” she says. “But I know the owner and told him if something opens up, I have some fresh new talent on my roster. Baby Mama had to bow out at the last minute, so he gave me a call. And here we are. Let’s talk about your set.”
As we plan out which songs I’ll play and in what order, my mind is whirling. I need to get to a piano, stat, and work on all of this. Rehearse. Crap. This is happening so fast.
But I had my last day of work at Maids in Heaven four days ago. So what else do I have to do except practice and get ready for the show?
“You got this, Ella,” Helena says. “You hear me?”
“Yeah,” I say, mostly speechless otherwise. When we were chatting about logistics, I was fine. Now that we’re in pep talk territory, I feel like I might hurl.
We hang up and I immediately text the guys, letting them know I’ll be spending the next two days at the practice room on campus before my big show. My text is riddled with exclamation points. Then I text my guards to let them know I have someplace to be.
During the drive to campus, I spot a pharmacy. “Hey, Cora? Can we pull over a second? I need to pick up something.”
We park and pile out of the car. When the guards first started working with me, Kingston and Sebastian assured me that my privacy would be protected at all times. I am free to go where I want, when I want, and nobody at Ironwood will report my movements to King and Bash unless I’m in danger.
But something about all of my guards knowing what I’m about to buy just doesn’t feel good. Already, my face is hot with shame. How could I be so stupid as to put myself at risk for pregnancy? What mistake did I make? And how did I not notice it earlier?
Stress, is the answer. I’ve been ridiculously stressed out lately, and nothing has been happening on schedule with my biology.
“Cora, can maybe just you come into the store with me?” I whisper. “I need to buy something…sensitive.”
“Yes, as long as Roman can stand just outside,” she says. “I’ll let him know to wait here.”
I wander the aisles until I come to the display of pregnancy tests. For fuck’s sake, there are like a thousand different brands. I don’t know which is best. If I take too long, Roman might wonder why. So I grab two and hurry to the check-out counter.
Cora gives me a thoughtful look but glances quickly away.
As soon as the pregnancy tests are paid for, I shove them deep into my purse. I’m being paranoid. I have an IUD. I cannot be pregnant. I don’t need these tests, and I’m not even going to use them right away. They’re just for an emergency.
Those are probably all things Gianna told herself, though.