Chapter 42 - Tate
TATE
“I think that’s my favorite.”
I come to the closing bars of the song and shake my head at my father with a soft smile.
“That’s what you said about the last one I played.”
“True.” His eyes crinkle at the corners and he chuckles. “I’m just happy to see you playing again without getting sick.”
“Yeah, me too,” I murmur, letting my fingers linger on the old piano keys.
Coming home’s not been as strange as I thought it would be.
It’s been a couple of days, and I feel like I never left.
Larry was waiting for us when we got back, eager to show us the brand-new working elevator that’s been installed, and the new locks that have been fitted to all of the apartment doors.
He supervised the work crew doing ours, which I’m grateful for.
I know it isn’t Sullivan doing the work himself, but he's still the reason it’s getting done in the first place.
The fewer reminders of him, the better.
“Could have given it a polish while they were here, though,” Dad grumbles, his attention sliding over the dusty, battered woodwork of the piano.
“I’m glad they didn’t. It’s the one part of this place I hope no one ever touches,” I muse, lowering the cover over the keys and stroking it tenderly.
It doesn’t matter that it needs a good tune and some TLC. Money can’t improve the memories I have of writing my songs on it.
“Have you heard anything yet?” my father asks, pulling the clean laundry from the state-of-the-art dryer that looks like it belongs in a mansion, not in our communal basement.
“Yeah. Mr. Drayton called just before you came down here.”
“And?” My father lifts a questioning brow.
“And he said I can take my time thinking about what I want to do. They aren’t going to enforce my contract and make me finish the tour. Or hold me to recording in the studio with them if I don’t want to.”
“That’s good news.”
“It is,” I agree, my smile growing tight.
I suspect Kyle Drayton knew I had doubts. He had a replacement support act filling my spot before our flight even touched down back in New York.
I was replaceable in an instant.
The feeling is all too familiar.
I made the error of looking on a local news site before I came downstairs to play. There was Sullivan, top story of the gossip column, leaving The Lanceford late one evening. The press delighted in that juicy story; after stating he hadn’t been seen there in months.
But it looks like he moved on after I left a lot faster than I’ll be able to.
I was still soaking in the feeling of betrayal when Kyle Drayton called and delivered his very ‘no-pressure’ speech.
I can’t believe I was so stupid and didn’t see it.
Sullivan bought Liberty Records so he could engineer a recording contract and a tour for me.
He made certain I wasn’t going to be in the vicinity of him or Molly.
He wanted me gone that badly.
“What are your plans this afternoon?” my father asks, breaking me out of my self-pity.
“I’m visiting Ashley.”
“Have you decided if you’re going to go back to work for her?”
“I don’t know.”
Ashley’s offer was appreciated. In fact, it was less of an offer, and more of an assumption.
But she realized her error the second I grimaced.
Returning to work at Caffeine Couture means working next door to Beaufort Diamonds again.
A move I’m not sure I’m ready for, even though I know I shouldn’t allow Sullivan to influence my decisions.
“I thought going there this afternoon to hang out with her might help me decide.”
“Hm, good idea. Test out how you feel being back there.” My father nods thoughtfully. He knows the words I’m not saying. He met Sullivan that night he took me to see The Masked Maestro play. He heard me talk about him and Molly.
And he wouldn’t have missed the fact that I hadn’t mentioned either of them in the days prior to accepting Kyle’s offer.
He knows his daughter had her heart broken. He’s just waiting until I’m ready to invite him to help with fixing it.
“Exactly. Test out how I feel,” I murmur, stroking the bumps and grooves in the worn wooden piano lid.
Sullivan might have brought our song to an abrupt end. But it’s time for me to write a new one now.
“He wants at least three kids. I’ll tear in half pushing them out if they take after him. You’ve seen the size of him.”
I snort at Ashley’s shudder before she throws me a cautious smile.
But she doesn’t need to worry. I’m not that newly single friend who everyone has to be careful not to upset by talking about how happy they are.
I want to hear about her and Huck. I’ve been asking her questions about him for the past fifteen minutes, greedy to revel in every detail of my friend’s happiness.
It also helps distract me from scanning the sidewalk outside every few minutes searching for a sign of a black town car.
“First this place became a smash hit. And now you’ve found Huck. You’ve got everything we bitched about taking so long to happen.” I grin as she bites her lip shyly, completely out of character.
“What is it?” I coax. She never gets coy for no reason.
“He asked me to make him a coffee using his new machine at his place this morning.”
I narrow my eyes at her blushing cheeks. Ashley has regaled me with all the sordid details of her one night stands over the course of our friendship. Yet now she’s blushing over making a guy a coffee.
“And…?”
“And he…” She shrugs, taking her hand out of her apron pocket. “He left me a surprise inside the bean compartment. And when I turned around, the big bear was down on one knee.”
I grab her left hand and pull it toward me.
“Holy… Wow, it’s massive!”
“I know,” she squeals with undisguised joy. “It’s an oval cut, but it looks like a coffee bean to me. I know that’s why he chose it.”
I turn her hand side to side, admiring the giant engagement ring as it glitters.
“Congratulations,” I cry, happiness bubbling in my stomach. “You’re getting married. Oh my God!”
I pull her into a giant, crushing hug and am wiping at the tears in my eyes as the bell chimes over the door.
“Hold that hug. I’m coming back for seconds.” Ashley sniffs through her laugh as she pulls away to serve the customer.
“Oh.” Her laugh dies abruptly.
I look over and my heart stalls.
A pair of brilliant blue eyes stare back at me, hostile and cold enough to freeze hell over. But even his hard expression can’t detract from how breathtakingly handsome he is.
I hate him.
I love him.
No, I don’t. Not anymore. I can’t allow myself to. I hate that even after all these weeks the mere sight of him still causes heat to flood my core.
“You’re back,” Sullivan states, his lips flattening into a grim line as he approaches the counter.
I step out from behind it and my spine stiffens at hearing his voice again after all these weeks. “Well done on your impeccable observation skills,” I remark, wrapping my arms around myself.
He’s alone, which I’m grateful for. I couldn’t have handled seeing Molly walk in here today. Not when her father is looking at me like he’s about to pop a vein.
“You’re supposed to be on tour, Tate. Singing.”
The gut punch I expect when he says my name doesn’t come. It’s the word ‘singing’ that does it.
“I hate performing in front of a big audience,” I snap. “You know that.”
He jerks back, his brow furrowing like he’s shocked. He’s such a good actor he deserves an Oscar.
To think I used to get flustered in his presence seems like a joke to me now. He’s nothing but a man who uses money to get what he wants.
“I didn’t,” he says.
“I told you!”
“When?”
“When you… When I… It was that time when…” I suck in a breath and clamp my lips together as my heart pounds.
I told him. Didn’t I?
“I never told you I wanted to perform,” I hiss.
“You never told me you didn’t,” he replies calmly. He’s already composed himself from the surprise of seeing me again. Yet my insides have turned to jelly.
I hate that he has the upper hand. That he’s talking to me in his business voice. The voice he uses when it doesn’t matter how much the other person protests, he knows by the end of their conversation he will come away as the victor.
“You were verging on being inconsolable when you found out that your song was stolen,” he says.
His phone rings in his pocket, but he ignores it.
“I wasn’t inconsolable!” I scoff as my cheeks flare with heat. “I was fine. You calmed me down and then spent the night—”
I grimace, clawing back the words before it’s too late. He spent the night taking care of me, telling me I didn’t need to do a thing. It was the first time in my life I felt treasured by anyone who wasn’t my mother, father, or Ashley.
The first time I’ve felt truly loved by someone else.
“I hated seeing you hurting,” Sullivan says, tenderness creeping into his tone and bringing with it a flash of the man I thought I knew.
He clears his throat, his features hardening again. “What did Liberty Records do? I’ll call Jones. Whatever it is, he’ll help you get your contract amended. You can do different shows. Smaller ones. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Throw money at the problem, of course that’s his answer.
I rub my temples and screw my eyes shut. “Please stop talking.”
My head pounds, made worse by the fact the scent of his cologne, mixed with his warm skin, is reaching over to me and making memories flash to the front of my mind.
Memories of intense gazes and whispered words as he kissed me and covered my body with his.
“But it’s your dream,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining it to me.
“No. Me being gone was your dream. You didn’t care about what I wanted. You made that clear when you ended things between us.”
“I thought performing your songs was what you wanted.” He scowls at me like it’s my fault that I’m back here.
Anger builds inside me until my veins are practically vibrating with it. Sullivan stands perfectly calm in a new designer suit I don’t recognize. He looks incredible in it. He always does. Asshole.