Chapter 18
Eighteen
Sebastian
It takes me longer than I’d like to get Schrodinger settled into my place.
He seems to take the new digs in stride, though, and by the time I’ve wrestled his cat tree into a spot by the windows and tucked his litter box into one of the bathrooms, he’s striding around like he personally bought and paid for this penthouse.
I text King, telling him I’m back in town. I add, Is Ella at the pub tonight?
He writes back that she is, so we agree to get there at nine, near the end of her shift.
I spend the afternoon and evening bouncing between various projects. I read Ella’s texts again and again, allowing myself to really pay attention to her words. She said numerous times that she missed me and wanted me to come home. Why couldn’t I believe her?
Kingston said something this morning about how I’ve been unable to believe anyone could forgive me for that night.
But what I did was unforgivable.
Wasn’t it?
I think it’s unforgivable.
I clean up my notebooks because Schrodinger seems to have a paper fetish, which I discover when I find him chewing and shredding a page with a particularly horrible attempt at lyrics.
“Everyone’s a critic,” I say, easing the paper away from him, earning only a minor scratch in retaliation.
Maybe what it comes down to, with moving forward, is that I don’t deserve forgiveness, but Ella and King forgive me, anyway.
Trina said the woman I attacked does not ever want to hear from me, so I can’t ask for her forgiveness.
If I could make amends in some other way—money, a grand gesture, whatever the hell she wants or needs, I would do it.
But since I can’t, maybe I’ll try to put it behind me.
And one way I can do that is by announcing to the public what happened.
It would invite a media shitstorm, and affect more than just me. So I have to proceed with care.
King picks me up. His driver, Garth, has the car idling outside my building promptly at eight forty-five. I slide into the back seat across from Kingston and immediately say, “If she has me thrown out of the pub, I’m kicking your ass.”
He snorts. “You mean you’d try to kick my ass.”
We travel from Dorado Heights to the Bellefleur District and watch the buildings get smaller, the sidewalks darker.
I don’t love that Ella lives and works in this area.
She’s our little girl, and I feel like I’m not doing my job as her daddy by allowing her to run around without me in a dangerous neighborhood.
Maybe I’m old-fashioned or something, but it’s part of my life calling, part of the way my mind works, to take care of her.
And it pisses me the fuck off that she won’t let me.
“We need to get her out of here,” I say.
Kingston nods.
“Once we figure out where she stands with my past, then we’re moving her in with one of us. Me or you, I don’t care. And she can quit this job at the pub, if she wants. If not, we’re sending her here with a driver.”
Staring out the window, he says, “Sounds good.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I say. “What’s up?”
Looking startled, Kingston turns back and says, “Sorry. I was just thinking, I’d really like to hear her sing.”
“Well, the Kitty Cat lounge is down the street a little ways.”
He nods. “Yeah, I like that idea, if she’s up for it. And it’s not far from the pub?”
We’re passing it, so I point. “It’s right there next to—huh. I wonder what that’s about.”
“What?”
I gesture at the alley near the karaoke place.
The usual light back there is brighter than usual, and several strands of twinkly lights have been draped around the building, anchored to the window ledges and providing even more light to the alley.
It’s really weird because the alley doesn’t boast more than a couple of dumpsters.
It also has loading docks for delivery trucks, but that’s hardly a thing to highlight, either.
Kingston just shrugs.
“Hey, what is up with you?” I ask. “Your distraction isn’t all about wanting to hear Ella sing.”
He sighs. “Rayanne’s been driving me fucking crazy. She wants me to hire back Joel.”
“Fuck no,” I say.
“That’s basically what I told her.”
Rayanne. What a nightmare. I’m grateful every day that King and I never shared her.
Garth pulls up outside the pub, and King and I climb out of the car. Bartleby’s looks crowded, with a few people gathered around outside, and the area around the door full of people coming and going and waiting around. The servers are hustling, the bartender is rushing through drink orders.
“I’ve never seen it so crowded,” I say to Kingston.
We make our way farther into the place, and I’m pleased to see a couple of open stools at the bar. King and I snag them and wait until the bartender is free to order a beer for King and an iced tea for me.
“Any food?” the bartender asks.
“Some fries,” King says. Looking over at me, he adds, “We might be waiting for Ella longer than we’d thought.”
“Yeah, why is it so busy?” I ask the bartender.
“Game night,” he says, pointing to a television screen I hadn’t noticed in the corner. There’s no game on, but he continues, “The Bandits won, so everyone’s here to celebrate.”
He puts our drinks down in front of us and soon after, brings us a plate of fries.
I turn halfway on my stool so I can survey the dining room. Ella seems to shine brighter than everyone else in the room—I see her immediately as she checks in at a table and retrieves a couple of empty glasses, presumably to bring back to the bar.
She turns around and looks up, finally. She sees me watching her. She smiles so brilliantly, it makes my chest ache.
But as she makes her way toward us, her smile transforms into an angry scowl.
Without saying a word to me, she goes to Kingston’s side and addresses the man behind the bar. “Kevin, I’m about done for the night. My tables are all settled up, and Natasha and Nicholas can handle the rest.”
“No problem,” Kevin says. “The rush is slowing, anyway.”
“This is slow ?” I ask.
Ella ignores me and says to Kingston, “I’ll grab my stuff and come right back.”
As she walks away with a bratty sway in her steps, Kingston gives me a wry look. “I think she’s mad at you.”
“Ya think?”
I follow her through the swinging door that leads through the kitchen. Kevin looks like he wants to argue, but I move too fast and give him an apologetic, but firm look.
As soon as I catch up with Ella, she spins around to face me. The apples of her cheeks are pink with anger. “What are you doing back here?”
“I need to talk to you,” I say. “I’m so fucking sorry, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” She holds up a hand so I don’t rush to fill the pause.
“But it’s not okay for a different reason than what you thought before.
It’s not okay that you’ve been beating yourself up for however many years.
It’s not okay that you don’t think I could handle knowing the truth. I’m stronger than that, Sebastian.”
One of the cooks gives us a look of avid interest. This obviously isn’t the place for a full-blown conversation about my torrid past, and Ella seems to realize it at the same time I do and she abruptly closes her mouth.
“We’ll go home to talk about this more,” I say. “But don’t ignore me, princess. I expect a better attitude when you come back out from getting your things.”
Her shoulders slump. “Okay, fine. Get out of here before you get me in trouble.”
I highly doubt anyone cares what she does here—Kevin or someone else might be the manager, but Ella clearly has full run of the place. Still, I go back to the bar.
King takes a sip of his beer. “Don’t tell me you ordered her to forgive you.”
“Close.” I shrug. “I just told her to watch the attitude. I’m still her daddy.”
Ella comes up to the bar, wearing her coat and holding her bag. She doesn’t ignore me this time, and walks right up to where I’m sitting. She gives me a sweet smile, but there’s sass in it, too. I get up so I can tug her into my arms.
“I missed you so much, princess,” I murmur into her hair.
She clings to me and says, “I missed you, too. Don’t ever run away like that again.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
“Are we going back to Kingston’s or yours to talk?” she asks.
“One stop, first,” I say. “Kingston wants to hear you sing. If you’re up for it.”
“Oh!” She blushes a little. “Yeah, sure.”
“Bash and I were thinking of the Kitty Cat lounge,” Kingston says.
Ella’s eyes widen and her lips purse very briefly before she smiles. “Yeah, let’s.”
Hmm.
She doesn’t really want to go, but she’s acting like she does. What the fuck does that mean?
Ella
Oof. The Kitty Cat? I haven’t had a chance to talk to the guys about what happened last night.
My stomach squirms at the thought of having the conversation.
There are other things we need to address, like Sebastian’s past, and the way he took off before we could talk about it, and, I don’t know, anything would be better than telling them about last night.
I haven’t wanted to think about it, much less talk about it.
I figured we’d first talk about Sebastian leaving in the middle of an argument without any word to us on where he was going or when he’d return. I can fully understand getting out of a heated situation to give yourself time to think. But he just…left. No words.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Kingston asks me. “You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to.”
“No, of course I do,” I say. “It’s just—”
“Hey, are you Bastian Crown?” a woman asks from a few seats down the bar.
Sebastian gives her a tight smile. “Yeah.”
“My older sisters always loved your music, but I never understood it until I saw you sing with that girl…wait…was it her ?” She points at me. “Holy crap.”
Her friends shush her, and Kingston takes my hand to lead me out of the pub.
I wave goodbye to Natasha, who gives me a big smile and wave back.
It’s been a good night. Bartleby’s doesn’t usually let everyone keep tips, but on a big game night, Kevin makes an exception.
I have an extra hundred bucks in my purse, all in ones and fives.
Somehow, Sebastian extricates himself from the conversation with the woman at the bar and meets us outside the pub.
“Doing okay?” Kingston asks him as we start to walk down the block.
I squeeze his hand gently—he’s worried about Sebastian, just like I am. It’ll be good to get home and talk about everything.
But first I have to get through the karaoke lounge. Maybe I can tell them right now. But how do I even bring it up?
Before I know it, we’re at the entrance to Kitty Cat Karaoke, and Sebastian is pushing open the door. Rick waits at a little podium just inside.
“This is new,” I say, pointing to the podium and hoping to keep the conversation directed away from what happened last night.
“Yep. Makes the place look more professional.” He grins. “So, who’s singing and who’s paying?”
“I’m singing,” I say, then look over at Sebastian, who shakes his head slightly.
So he’s not singing. Maybe it’s best, if he’s already freaked out about dealing with the past, although at some point, I’d love to sing with him again.
There was something magical about being up there on that stage, our voices blending together so perfectly.
Sebastian pays the cover for him and Kingston and we start to walk past Rick.
“Hey, Cinderella,” Rick says before we get too far. “I’m glad to see you brought some bodyguards with you this time. Are you doing okay after last night?”
Kingston and Sebastian give me a questioning look.
“I’m doing great,” I say, hoping he won’t say any more.
“Did you see the lights in the alley?” he asks. “Just like I promised, and then some.”
“I did, and thank you. They’re beautiful.” I was truly touched to see them when I walked from the bus stop to Bartleby’s earlier this evening.
He grins. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod and hurry the guys toward a booth at the back of the club.
I sit on one of the benches and Kingston slides in after me.
Sebastian shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing his glorious tattoos.
Then he sits down across from us, his hazel eyes intent on mine.
I sneak a peek over at Kingston, who is looking as stern as ever.
Damn, it shouldn’t turn me on so much that they look seconds away from spanking me, but it does.
Still, they don’t know anything yet that I’ve done wrong. If all goes well, I can wriggle my way out of this and tell them later, on my own terms.
A server comes up to take our drink order. He looks like he wants to ask Sebastian for an autograph, but he restrains himself. Sebastian orders an iced tea, Kingston orders some kind of whiskey that I can’t pronounce, and I order a hard cider.
“So the trip back from the coast went okay for each of you?” I ask, drumming my hands on the edge of the sticky table.
“Yeah,” Kingston says in a light tone. “Hardly any traffic.”
Sebastian nods. “My drive was easy, but noisy.”
“Noisy?”
He grins. “I brought someone with me. You can meet him later.”
Intrigued, I open my mouth to ask who he brought, but just then, our server returns with our drinks.
“Let me know if you need anything else, anything at all,” the server says, making heart eyes at Sebastian.
The server walks away and Rick hops on the stage. “Let’s give it up for our next performer, Alistair!”
Polite applause sounds through the lounge. Everyone’s attention goes to the stage, including Kingston’s and Sebastian’s.
Phew. I’m in the clear. Rick’s mention of last night has been forgotten, and I can figure out a better time to bring it up with the guys.
Alistair croons out Aerosmith’s “Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” to a largely indifferent audience. I pretend to give him my full focus, although I’m hyperaware of Kingston beside me and Sebastian sitting on the bench seat across from us.
As soon as Alistair is done, everyone applauds again. Rick saunters over and says, “You’re up in ten, Cinderella.”
I give him a little salute. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad yesterday didn’t scare you off,” he adds.
Stop it, Rick . I give him a tight smile. “Thanks again.”
He nods, looking satisfied, and walks off.
A new quiet descends over the table. I can feel Sebastian and Kingston waiting. Watching me. I take a sip of my cider, and then another. I feel like a cornered mouse.
“So, my little songbird,” Sebastian drawls, running a finger up and down his glass of iced tea, his attention fixed on my face, “do you want to tell us what the fuck Rick was talking about?”