Chapter 44 Tate
TATE
My hands shake, creasing the envelope that’s clutched so tightly in my palm that I swear my skin will have nail marks in it by the time I let go.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, heading to Sullivan and Molly’s door. A route that’s so familiar, yet feels so alien to me today. This is the last time I’ll come here. Once my signed letter cutting all ties with Liberty Records is received, then that’ll be it.
I will no longer have any reason to talk to Sullivan Beaufort.
And every reason to still love him and his daughter so much that my body physically aches at their loss from my life.
I could have taken the letter to Kyle Drayton.
That would have been the sensible thing to do.
Sullivan might own the label now, but I don’t know how involved he is with the actual running of it.
Besides constructing contracts and tours to get ex-girlfriends out of the city and away from him, that is.
But something told me I had to do this. Delivering this last confirmation that we are over is what I need. A sort of closure, even though I know it’s going to hurt like hell.
I want Sullivan to look me in the eye one final time as I leave his life for good. I need him to understand that even though he did this, that I’m okay without him. That I. Will. Be. Okay.
Taking a deep breath, I reach to knock on the door, but the sound of notes drifting from inside halt me.
He’s playing Chopin’s Funeral March. The foreboding notes ring out like deep bells, signifying the end of something.
His despair seeps through the door like a living breathing entity until my legs go weak and I have to reach out to steady myself.
I clutch the envelope to my chest as I listen. Each note rings out sharply like he’s striking the keys so hard they’re in danger of splintering from his touch. The piece isn’t complete before the notes merge into one another un-ceremonially like they’ve been slammed all at once.
I sink back against the door as silence engulfs the air in a thick cloud.
The only sound is my shallow breaths and pulse in my ears…
…and crying.
Swallowing hard, I turn my ear to the door and strain to hear the faint muffles.
Sullivan’s crying.
It’s barely audible, but it’s real.
My heart flies to my throat and I force back a sob. This isn’t anything to do with me. Whatever he has going on the other side of this door is his private business. He closed me off from being a part of it months ago. If I was ever really a part of it to begin with.
I bend and push the envelope underneath the door, my breath coming in tightly drawn tenses of my lungs. This is nothing to do with me.
I stalk back to the elevator, hitting the button harshly. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at the goosebumps that have skittered up over my skin.
The doors slide open, but my feet don’t move.
I whip my head to his door. Maybe it’s Molly. Maybe something happened.
My heart’s in my throat as I race over and scan my thumb to let myself in. Relief sags my chest as it unlocks with a click. He hasn’t shut me out completely. Not yet.
The envelope crumples beneath my feet as I step on it in my haste to get inside. I ignore it, leaving it sitting on the floor like a ruined scrap of something worthless.
“Sullivan?”
I head into the living area, but it’s deserted. The piano sits in silence like a dark, oppressive mass, its stool upended on the floor.
The sounds of choked whispers spills from somewhere close by and I follow it on autopilot until I come to a stop outside Sullivan’s closed office door.
“I’m so fucking sorry. She’s lost her mom now… I can’t do this without you.”
There’s no other voice, only his.
I breathe in slowly and open the door.
Blue eyes meet mine, stealing my breath.
As long as I live, I know I will never be able to forget the way he looks in this moment.
He’s sitting on the floor, propped up with his back against his desk like he’s collapsed there and doesn’t have it in himself to get up again.
He’s wearing his usual shirt and suit pants but lacking the suave sophistication that usually fills out the designer fabric.
It's like seeing a shell of the man he is.
“Sullivan?”
Tears course down his cheeks and he shakes his head.
“T-Tate? I don’t… I c-can’t…”
I fall to my knees, pulling him to me without an ounce of hesitation. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
His phone drops from his hand, thudding on the plush carpet as he puts his arms around me and grips me hard, sinking his face into the crook of my neck.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, fighting to keep my own emotions from bubbling up at seeing him like this.
Wracking sobs shake his torso, and he falls apart in my arms.
“Molly’s mother is dead. She died of an overdose. I gave her the fucking money. I wanted her gone. And now she is. I took Molly’s mother from her.”
“What do you mean, you gave her the money?”
“She came here looking for Molly. She was drunk and I wanted her as far away as possible. I gave her two million dollars to never come back. And now she never will.” His voice cracks. “I k-killed her.”
“No,” I say with force. “No, you didn’t.”
Sullivan’s told me about Molly’s mother’s addictions. And as awful as this is, he needs to understand this wasn’t his fault.
“Sullivan? Look at me,” I urge.
He pulls back and the broken man I see makes my heart bleed for him.
“I didn’t know that’s what she’d do. But I should have. I should have seen it coming. I should have protected Molly from this happening.”
“You did protect her,” I say, begging him to believe me. “You could never have known what would happen. You were doing what was best for Molly at the time.”
His face crumples. “Her mother’s gone, Tate.”
“And I am so, so sorry about that,” I say, meaning every word. I know Sullivan never forgave Molly’s mom after the way she abandoned her. But she’s still her mother. This must be a horrible shock for him.
He crushes himself against me even tighter, and I stroke his heaving back as he struggles to catch his breath.
“I’m supposed to protect her,” he utters.
“You do,” I soothe, reaching up to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. “No one loves and protects her like you do. You’re an amazing father.”
My words cause him to suck in a sharp breath, and he pulls away from me.
“I’m not.”
Any remaining light in his eyes extinguishes as he looks at me. My heart breaks for him. No matter what’s happened between the two of us, I can’t stand by and not feel like my soul is falling apart seeing him like this.
“Sullivan,” I plead softly. “Don’t do this to yourself. You told me Natasha had her struggles. This isn’t your fault. She chose to go down that path a long time ago.”
“Don’t make excuses for me, Tate.” He blinks away lingering tears, his eyes taking on a cold detachment. “This is on me. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail.” I search his eyes, begging him to see what I do, what everyone does. A loving father who will always put his daughter first.
He breaks my gaze and reaches for his phone. I sink onto my heels in front of him, not wanting to move any further away, because despite him regaining his composure momentarily I can see he’s dancing on a knife’s edge of losing it again.
I know him better than he thinks, and I can see when it’s taking everything in him to hold it together.
His brow furrows as he unlocks his phone and hands it to me. As I close my fingers around it, our skin touches and a bolt of energy bites me low in my stomach.
“Call it.”
“What?”
“Call it,” Sullivan repeats.
“Call what?” I look down at the phone, but only the screensaver image of Molly in her bunny onesie with a big grin looks back at me.
“You know what.”
Something about Sullivan’s voice makes my stomach sink. I open up his call history. The number with no name is listed line after line, filling the screen.
“I know you’ve seen me call it. But you’ve never pushed to know who it is. If you had, I’d have lied to you about it, anyway.”
His eyes are on his phone as I look up at him in shock.
“You’d have lied?”
He grimaces. “I wouldn’t have had any other choice.”
My throat thickens and I hover my thumb over the number.
“Call it, Tate,” he urges in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t have to lie to you anymore.”
A stupid, small part of me wondered if this was a number for another woman. It was a fleeting thought, probably brought on by Brandon cheating on me. But I never thought that was something Sullivan would do. Not with the way things were between us.
But then he left that key out for The Lanceford for me to see.
Maybe we were always more to me than we ever were to him.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“You will.” He reaches over and presses the number for me, lifting my hand to my ear as the phone connects the call.
“Hey, you’ve reached Slade. I’m probably jumping out of a plane right now and freaking out my brother. But if you leave a message, I’ll call you back.”
Sullivan holds my gaze as the message ends. Emotion swirls in them as I end the call.
“He sounds just like you, only…” I swallow down the word happy before it leaves my lips.
“Younger?” Sullivan quirks a brow, and that small, simple hint of himself shining through his grief is a lifeline I want to cling onto for dear life.
“Three minutes and fourteen seconds younger. Although Slade would talk about it like I was ancient compared to him some days. Especially because I didn’t share in his thrill around taking unnecessary risks.”
A rare, bittersweet smile forms on his lips before he frowns at the phone.
“I’ve paid my dead twin brother’s phone bill for almost three years, just so I can hear his voice and leave him messages he’ll never return.”
“Sullivan,” I breathe.
He stares back at me with shining eyes, his neck contracting like he’s trying to hold back the onslaught of thickness that comes to your throat before you cry.
“I don’t want to not hear his voice anymore,” he confesses quietly.