Chapter 54
Chapter fifty-four
Christianna
I’m still lying on the grass, belly full from the pizza that showed up after Remy and Erik left.
“Is this weird?” I ask Meg.
“Which part?” she asks. “Buying a multimillion-dollar mansion on a whim, having two hot guys bring you dogs, or the part where you’ve had a crush on one your whole life and now have a crush on two?”
“I didn’t have a crush on Remy my whole life. He was just… perfect. Because I was five. And I don’t have a crush on Erik.”
“What was Erik wearing?” she asks casually.
“A button-down tucked into jeans with a belt.” I trail off as I realize how much I noticed.
“And when the realtor tried to cozy up to him?”
I sit up, disrupting Raindrop, who immediately resettles against my thigh. Dewdrop is sprawled between my legs. “He wasn’t comfortable. It was predatory and rude.”
“So we’ve established you think they’re both hot.”
“Objectively, they are.” I’m not willing to admit more, to either one of us.
“I’m still irritated with Remy.”
“For trying to protect Erik?”
“Did you notice the oboe player was hitting on Maestro today?”
Meg rears back. “The redhead?”
“Yep. He was polite about it. Wait until his brother shows up to direct the stage productions. It’ll be an estrogen fest. Probably testosterone too. I think they appeal to everyone.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do. Twins always appeal,” Meg says. “David and James Earl. Both legends. Single. Artistic.”
“I hear they have a fan club,” I prod.
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Ditto. I won’t make you face your little crushes if you don’t make me face mine.”
“Let’s feed the dogs,” Meg says, “and start making lists of what we need. This place feels like it deserves better than Chinet.”
“Erik dropped off dog food and supplies in the butler’s pantry. They stopped at a store and picked up beds, toys, food, and grooming essentials. Are you keeping the names?” Meg asks as she heads to the pantry and grabs their bowls.
“I don’t know. Should we give them freedom names? Erik was calling them the Drops, which was kind of cute.”
I fill a bowl with water and set it down on a bone-shaped mat.
My phone buzzes. It’s the security guard at the gate, asking if we’re expecting a delivery.
“Send them in,” I tell him.
“The furniture’s here,” Meg says. “Let’s take the Drops out back so we don’t have to worry about them bolting for the door.”
We each grab a bowl, and the dogs follow us, noses up, prancing along behind us.
When we set the bowls down, their faces are buried in them before we can even stand.
As the rumble of the truck reaches us, Meg texts Remy. We both head for the front door.
When Remy and Erik return, the furniture is unloaded and placed in each room. My bedroom upstairs, with the balcony overlooking the backyard, is perfect. The bed faces the doors. I can already picture waking up there.
Erik hands me an oversized bag from a luxury bath shop. Inside are soaps, bath bombs, cleanser, toothpaste, plush towels, a thick bath mat.
Remy sets down his own bag. Toilet paper. A Keurig with pods. Sugar packets. He remembered how I take my coffee. He saw it once. I barely manage to swallow my internal sigh and hope I’m not giving him heart eyes.
Paper towels. Milk. Eggs. Bread. A toaster and a frying pan. Everything I forgot I’d need in the excitement of the house. He sets my car keys on the island.
“This is looking really good,” he says, eyeing the long dining table. “You’ve got a good eye. It fits the room.”
“It might be ambitious,” I admit. “Meg’s probably the only person I’ll ever have over. But the room was begging for a twelve-person table.”
“It works,” Remy says.
I hesitate. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I don’t understand why you’re both helping me.”
“You were my little Tianna.” He looks away. “I always wondered what happened to you. Wondered if I’d cross your path again. Hoped I would.”
He smiles faintly and looks back. “And then I did and didn’t know it, and I hurt you. Inadvertently, but hurt just the same.”
He steps closer and cups my cheek.
“I never want to be the cause of your pain,” he says quietly. “Only ever avenge it.”
A tear slips free. “I already have an avenger,” I say. “She’s very effective. I want my friend back.”
His thumb brushes the tear away. “You have him,” he says. “But he comes with a plus one.”
His smile turns wry. “Erik is my best friend. The brother of my heart.” He shrugs. “We pretty much come as a set.”
“How does he have my music?” I ask. “I know you said the Dark Angel, but how?”
I swallow. “He’s been giving voice to everything I’ve written and played for the last several years.”
A voice answers from behind us.
“It’s starting to make sense now. When we moved in, your music was always playing. I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
He pauses.
“It’s not the Dark Angel that’s my muse,” he says quietly. “It’s you.”
“For months,” he continues, “I’ve been chasing the music. It only stops when I see you.”
My breath rushes out of me. I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “I only ever played in my apartment.”
Meg comes in then, the dogs at her heels.
“I was going to say I’m heading out to grab a few things,” she says, stopping when she takes us in. “But I think I know what must have happened.”
We all stare at her. Waiting.
“She’s always been a catalyst,” Meg says. “For change.”
“If the music found its way to you,” she continues, “it’s because she thought one of you needed it. Or all of you.”
“The Dark Angel?” Remy asks.
Meg shrugs, already turning away. “Who or what else?”
She heads for the door. “I’ll be back.”