Chapter 16
Sixteen
Sebastian
The ocean waves are calming, I guess. In their way. Every day, I stare at them for most of the morning before going into the beach house and lying on the sofa. Because apparently I’m a heroine in a Victorian novel and I must have at least one daily swoon.
I brought notebooks with me. Several of them. There’s a guitar in the closet.
Have I written a single fucking song?
Nope.
I got as far as tuning the guitar. But when I tried to strum a chord, my throat got tight and the void in my chest expanded. Emptiness shouldn’t feel so full. It makes no goddamn sense, and yet it describes the sensation exactly. My chest is full of emptiness.
Fuck.
Angst is supposed to be good for art. That’s the cliche, anyway. It’s not working for me, though.
The breeze carries the freshness and saltiness of the ocean. I turn my back on it and walk across the deck toward the sliding door that leads inside.
A soft meow stops me in my tracks.
Turning, I see the stray that lives beneath the deck.
He’s black as night, with yellow eyes that he closes in a half-blink whenever he sees me.
I do it back, and his rumbling purr is loud enough to hear from several feet away.
I could pretend to be puzzled by his continued presence, but since I met him a few days ago, I’ve been feeding him pieces of fish, so the fault is mine.
The feline has been growing bolder by the day. The first time I saw him, he wouldn’t step within ten feet of me. Now, he walks right up to my bare foot and rubs his chin over my toes.
When he’s finished claiming my foot as his own, I step through the sliding door and into the beach house.
The cat comes with me. Bold motherfucker.
Looking around the living room, it’s easy to imagine how great this retreat would be if Ella and Kingston were here, too. The three of us could be enjoying a long weekend together.
I hate that she couldn’t accept me, but I can hardly blame her.
And then there’s the matter of Trina and my incident that up until recently, she kept a secret. She’s going to reveal it; I’m certain of that.
“Maybe the best thing to do is come clean before she tells the world,” I say to the cat.
He mrowrs at me, his expression inquisitive. He wanders over to the kitchen, then back to me.
“I don’t have any food right now,” I tell him.
Coming clean won’t bring Ella back, though. And she’s all I really care about. Fuck fame, fuck my career. I’ve had a good run. People might rip me apart on social media. They might choose to never listen to my music again. It’s their decision, and I’d respect it. I could live with all of that.
But I can’t live without Ella.
I slump down onto the sofa. The cat jumps up next to me. He’s making himself right at home. He’s plumper than he was when I first found him, now that he’s getting some meat on his bones. His coat is shinier, too, and he’s better groomed.
“What’s your name?” I ask him.
He doesn’t respond. Good thing. If cats start talking to me, I’ll know I’m really losing it.
My phone is on the coffee table. I pick it up, scroll through my texts.
Kingston. Ella. Wait, why is Ella writing?
I read a couple of her texts. She misses me?
No. I don’t see how this can work. I don’t think she can forgive me for what I did before, because I can’t even forgive me.
I need to tell the world, let them judge me. And then, only then, I might find redemption.
But I’m a cowardly piece of shit.
I swipe away the texts and pull up a grocery store’s website on my phone. I need some food, and I’m not fucking going to the store, that’s for sure, so delivery it is.
The cat nudges my knee. I add a big bag of cat food to my order.
Kingston
Time passes. Sebastian doesn’t respond to any of my messages. I’ve texted him. Ella’s texted him. The asshole isn’t responding.
And meanwhile, life goes on.
I haven’t seen Ella since Saturday night.
If she was affected by the death of her former apartment manager, she hasn’t shown it.
At least, not to me. I hate that I haven’t been able to spend time with her since Saturday.
Stupid work. Kristin, Joel’s replacement, needs way too much hand-holding.
Thankfully, she’s going to Grant with most of her questions, but then he comes to me to complain, and it’s a whole vicious cycle.
On top of that, I’m still reassuring clients after our “digital security breach” at the end of January. Shutting down the communication system was the right call. I’d do it again in a heartbeat to protect Ella or any other young woman in a similar position. But it didn’t happen without costs.
My office phone rings, pulling me from my swirling thoughts. I check the caller ID. Shit. It’s my ex-wife. She’s been calling me for days and I haven’t been answering. I never want to deal with her, but I’ve put her off long enough.
“Hello, Rayanne,” I say.
“Oh, finally, King, for fuck’s sake. Why haven’t you called me back sooner?”
I stare out the window, taking in the city of San Esteban. Glitter and gold dominates Dorado Heights, and dull, earthy tones fill the Bellefleur District, not too far away.
“I’m busy,” I say. “I’ve been making sure Joel’s replacement is up to speed. Has he given any thought to what he did wrong here?”
“He fucked a maid, apparently,” Rayanne says in an airy voice. “That’s hardly reason for cutting him off. Especially when, I hear, you’re now fucking the same maid.”
“He broke state laws. He filmed their liaison without her permission and attempted to distribute it over the company communication network.”
“Nice job, sidestepping my comment about your relationship with the maid,” she says. “But that’s not the point of this call.”
“Good,” I say, “because I don’t have time for your judgment or commentary on my relationships.”
“Relationships,” she repeats with a laugh. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”
I don’t respond. I’m getting ready to hang up, in fact.
As if sensing her mistake, she rushes to say, “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I was just thinking, though, that rather than trying to get Joel’s replacement up to speed, why don’t you just let Joel come back?”
“I’d rather not.”
“He has learned his lesson.” Rayanne’s voice has a steely tone to it. “You can stop punishing him, have him come back to his office, his work. He misses the job.”
“I apparently wasn’t clear enough,” I say. “The answer is no. He cannot return to Tyler Analytics.”
“You’re going to be sorry,” she says.
“Are you threatening me, Rayanne?”
An airy laugh comes through my phone’s speaker. “Oh, heavens no, Kingston. I’m just saying your father-son relationship is suffering, and this is how you can repair it, and if you don’t, it’s a damn shame.”
A damn shame indeed, that my ex-wife is reducing herself to be a go-between for my grown-ass son and me.
“Goodbye, Rayanne.”
I end the call and drop my phone on my desk. I need to get the fuck out of town. I asked Ella about a weekend away, at the beach house.
The beach house.
Could Sebastian be there? I pull up our security company’s website, sign in, and exhale.
There it is. Logs of the alarm being set, disarmed, re-set, disarmed again.
If he’s trying to hide from me, he’s doing a shitty job—the dumbass forgot that our alarm system for the beach house can be accessed online.
I glance at the time. Ella is probably between shifts right now. I give her a call.
“Hey, Daddy,” she says.
Her voice has the complete opposite effect on me than my ex-wife’s did. She sounds sweet, she sounds comfortable. My muscles ease and loosen, and even though Ella can’t see me, I can feel a relaxed smile stretch across my face.
“You’re at home, little one?”
“Yeah. I have to leave in an hour for the pub. What’s up?”
“I know where Bash is.”
Ella
The constant tension I’ve been carrying eases. “When is he coming home?”
“That, I don’t know. I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. It’s too late to make the drive tonight.”
“Where is he? Can I come, too?”
“He’s at our beach house. It’s probably best if I go alone, first.”
I tug my lip between my teeth, trying not to feel too disappointed. Kingston has known Sebastian longer than I have—he knows how to deal with him. But I freaking miss him so much.
“Is there anything you want me to tell him, when I see him?” Kingston asks.
“He can’t just disappear whenever a problem comes to the surface,” I say, staring at the blank space where my keyboard used to stand. “He has to face it, doesn’t he? I need to talk to him. Calmly, you know? He didn’t give me that chance before. Everything happened too fast.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“And tell him to fucking text me back,” I add.
“Language, Ella,” Kingston says in a low voice.
A thrill of need pulses through me. “Sorry, Daddy. Are you going to punish me?”
He laughs. “You sound a little too hopeful.”
He got me there.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” he says, “I promise you punishments and play after I get back from the coast.”
“Fine,” I say, trying to sound as sulky as possible.
“Ella,” he says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I love you, little girl.”
My heart skips a beat. “I love you too, Daddy.”
Ella
Work at the pub goes by quickly, and I’m light on my feet. I know why, too—it’s because of Kingston telling me he loves me. My heart is full, although I ache for Sebastian’s return.
The bus stop is only half a block away. My thoughts are with Kingston and Sebastian. I still haven’t decided exactly how I feel about Sebastian. A major part of me wants to just let it all go, forget the whole thing. He’s never hurt me , has he? At least, not in any way I objected to.
Maybe it was a misunderstanding between him and the woman. I want to talk to her.