Chapter 11
Eleven
Ella
My fingers ache from playing for so long after cleaning at Dorado Terrace all morning, but how can I resist? I miss my keyboard desperately, but I’ll never get it back. And in the meantime, it’s a real joy to play on an actual piano.
I take a break to rest my hands. I also sip some water, because my vocal cords are tired, too.
It’s amazing—I’m still working just as much as I always was, and a lot of my free time is spent with Kingston and Sebastian.
Yet I have more energy for songwriting and creativity than I had before.
Maybe because I’m not constantly fearing that I won’t be able to pay rent?
I’m back in my apartment, but the landlord gave me—and everyone—a substantial break in our rent through April, due to the myriad issues the place had for so long.
He made no secret about his ire with Bryan being such a fuckwad of a manager.
The good news is that another manager has already taken Bryan’s place—and it’s Mrs. Dali.
Now that’s a woman who will get shit done.
Grinning to myself, I practice the chorus of my new song again.
Hanging in the pause
Waiting on the line
In every missed beat
I’m here…I’m here
Impatient for your time.
Frowning, I scratch out two of the lines. It doesn’t work yet. The rhythm’s off. I substitute words, trying to get the correct feel.
Tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck. I feel like I’m being watched. I quickly twist around to look out the practice room’s window.
A face peers in at me. I don’t catch much detail before they disappear, but it isn’t one of the guys, I can tell that much. Too short. Blond hair.
It’s probably someone waiting to use the room. I’m almost done, I guess. I just want to write down some of the ideas I have for the bridge’s melody, so I plunk them out on the keys and scribble them in my notebook so I won’t forget. I hum as I go, lost in my work.
I stop suddenly, again feeling as if I’m being watched. I don’t see anyone through the window, but the feeling remains.
That’s it, I’m out of here. My instincts have saved me more than once when walking around Bellefleur at night. While my rational mind tries to tell me it’s just someone waiting for the room, that I’m only imagining things because there’s obviously no one here, well, I’m going to trust my gut.
Leaving the practice room, I first look around to make sure nobody’s stalking me.
The hall is empty. I pull out my phone, getting ready to text Kingston and Sebastian, but I hear the chatter of people approaching and a group of students comes around the corner.
I hoist my bag over my shoulder and fall into their midst, pretending I belong with them, returning to the tricks I use to get through Bellefleur at night.
Whoever was at the door was probably just waiting for the room, and I’m probably just paranoid because I still haven’t heard from Tommy. It’s probably just cold and spooky here.
“Probably just” is not good enough, though. I’d rather feel safe.
The college students that I’m walking with start looking at me funny because they’re apparently a tight group, so I give them a quick wave and take the nearest exit out of the building.
Bright sunlight nearly blinds me. I blink rapidly and pull fresh, warm air into my chilled lungs.
Dozens of people relax out on the expansive green lawn, soaking in the sunshine, chatting, studying.
A few of them have formed a drum circle and I let the heavy rhythm soothe my pounding heart and ease it to a normal speed.
Two women sit nearby on a picnic blanket, books open in their laps, but they’re people-watching instead of studying. One of them spots me and lifts up her sunglasses. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“Yeah, just spooked,” I say. “Kanno Hall seemed really empty just now.”
“Oh, I get that,” the other girl says. “It’s so quiet in there sometimes. The faint music from people practicing makes it sound haunted. And it’s always freezing in there.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say, gesturing at my thick hoodie.
The sound of my phone ringing surprises me, and I pull it from my pocket. Kingston’s name lights up the screen, and my mood brightens at the same time. I give the girls a brief smile and step a few feet away to take the call.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey. You’re looking especially delectable right now.”
My head snaps up and I scan the quad for him, and there .
He’s not far from the women on the picnic blanket.
I can’t believe I didn’t see him as soon as I stepped out of the building.
The man is magnetic. His fine suit and self-assured stance draw the eye.
I’m not the only person staring at him, either.
The two women I just spoke with are gazing at him, their mouths gaping.
“Do you think he’s a new professor?” one of them asks.
“He can teach me whatever the hell he wants,” the other one says.
Trying not to giggle, I end the call and walk past them and up to Kingston.
“Is he her dad?” one of the women wonders aloud.
He sweeps me into his arms and kisses me on the mouth. I cling to him, kissing him back, feeling rejuvenated, reclaimed, like all is right in the world once more.
“Not her dad,” the woman mutters, while her friend cackles.
I risk a look back at them and see the laughing woman give me a thumb’s up. I smile at her, and Kingston chuckles.
“Making new friends?” he asks.
“I doubt it,” I say, pecking his cheek. “A second ago, they were hoping you were a new professor for them to lust over.”
He takes my hand and leads me down the path. I have no idea why he’s here or where we’re going, but when I’m with him, I know I don’t need to worry.
Kingston
Ella looks happy, young. She looks like she belongs on this campus. At times like this, I really wonder whether she’d be happier dating a guy or guys closer to her age. But she’s too fucking wonderful, and I’m too fucking selfish to let her go.
She has to work at the pub tonight, so I can’t whisk her to my penthouse and ravish her like I want to do. Instead, I take her out for an early dinner. We call Bash to join us, and the bastard actually shows up, surprising me.
We talk and eat and have a great time. When it’s time to go, Sebastian leaves in his own car. He’s avoiding being alone with me, because he knows once I drop off Ella, I’m going to want to talk to him. Tricky little asshole. I’ll get him soon, though.
In the back of the car on the way to Bartleby’s, I give Ella a long kiss.
“I wish I didn’t have to go to work,” she says when the car stops.
Garth knows better than to open the door for us right now. Good man.
I don’t tell Ella that she doesn’t have to go to work. I don’t tell her that I’ll pay for a better apartment for her, that I’ll support her while she goes to university full-time, that I’ll give her the world.
It’s too early to make these proclamations. I know this. I hate it, but it’s the truth. We’re less than two months into our relationship.
But… “Maybe we could get away for a long weekend,” I suggest. “You, me, Bash. We could stay at the beach, collect seashells, stay in bed.”
“That’s very tempting,” she says.
“Well, give it some thought. You can name the weekend, little girl.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange with my bosses.”
I hate saying goodbye to Ella, but I have to get back to work, too. After another long kiss, I let her out of the car, and Garth speeds me to the office. I check my email on the way, and grin when I see an email waiting for me from Kristin Wayfield.
She’s accepting the job offer. Fuck yeah. It’s been hard, scrambling to cover Joel’s old responsibilities and delegating them to others. Filling his position is going to give me the extra time I need to start weaning myself off of work.
I set up a meeting with Kristin for Tuesday, to show her the ropes and get her started.
Kingston
“And this is the Senior Analyst office,” I say, shoving open the door so Kristin can go inside. This is the last part of our Tuesday meeting.
She steps in, her high heels sinking into the rug. She looks the part—sensible suit, tidy, professional appearance. She looks like she’ll fit right in here.
The place is tidy, just like Kristin. It’s clear of Joel’s personal belongings. I had his stuff shipped to his apartment as soon as I cut him off, and I’ve just been waiting to move someone else in here, to the top floor with me and the other higher-ranking employees.
“Wow,” Kristin says, her eyes wide. “I had no idea this was such a step up. I mean, it’s no corner office, but it’s huge.”
“So it’ll work for you?” I ask. “The afternoon sun gets really bright, but you can control the blinds.”
“It’s great,” she says, running her hand along the side of Joel’s old desk.
“You said you’re familiar with the Ruberetta accounts,” I say, referring to one of the topics we covered earlier in our meeting. “Just how comfortable are you with the man himself?”
She lifts a shoulder. “He’s an asshat, but I can handle him.”
“Joel dealt with him by not dealing with him, for the most part. But if Ruberetta is going to remain one of our clients, we need to up our game. Honestly, I don’t care if he walks, but I don’t want it to be due to a half-assed job on our part.”
“I agree completely, Mr. Tyler.”
“Call me Kingston, please.”
She lays her hand on my forearm. “Kingston. Call me Kristin.”
Oh, this won’t do. I pull my arm back and spot Grant Ramanathan hurrying past the office door.
“Grant!” I call.
He stops in his tracks and comes to stand in the doorway. “What’s up, Kingston?”
“I have a phone appointment, but Kristin needs to get settled into her new office. You’ve met Kristin Wayfield, right? She’s coming over from managing the quant department.”
“Yeah, hey, Kristin,” he says. “Congrats on the promotion.”