Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
ZOE
When I wake up the next morning, my brain has its own heartbeat, and the pulse of it thumps directly between my eyes.
Also, my bladder is ready to burst. In fact, I think my having to pee is what woke me up in the first place.
I slide from under the covers, a movement that reminds me I’m still wearing Seb’s silk pajamas, and race for the bathroom.
I make it just in time, and the feeling of relief I get from emptying it is amazing.
Afterward, I walk into the kitchen and dig my phone out of the black bag, which is exactly where I left it last night, in front of the door.
My stomach is growling again, and I still don’t have anything to eat.
I plan to wash Seb’s pajamas—can you wash silk?
—and bring them up to the main house with a list for Patrick.
Maybe, if I ask nicely, he’ll make me some breakfast.
But when I look down at my phone screen, I realize the problem with that plan.
It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Patrick can make me eggs and toast, but I don’t think we can call it breakfast any longer.
We are officially into lunch territory. Shit, we are pushing high tea.
Worse, my screen is covered with missed messages from Jeremy.
Fuck, we were supposed to have a Zoom session this morning. I slept right through it.
Feeling light-headed, I stumble to the counter and pour myself a glass of water, then drain it in a few gulps. No wonder I feel like crap. On top of recovering from gold dust, I’ve slept for at least twelve hours.
I pour another glass of water and drink it down. Then I send Jeremy a message:
Sorry to miss our appointment! I had a job interview that turned into a job. Unfortunately, I will need to cancel our other scheduled sessions until I’m settled into this position.
I hit send. I’ll call the office later to make sure my sessions get canceled.
I haven’t even had a chance to set down my phone when it rings.
It’s a video call, from Jeremy. I answer it but turn my camera off.
I can see his face, but all he can see is a picture of me smiling next to a carved pumpkin from last Halloween.
“Zoe, are you there? Your video isn’t working.”
“This isn’t a good time, Jeremy. I’m right in the middle of something. In fact, I just sent you a text.”
“I saw it. I’m just really uncomfortable with you missing our sessions right now. You’ve been sober for a year. This would be a terrible time for a relapse.”
I rub my head. If he only knew. “Thank you for your concern. Your sessions have been truly helpful to me, but I lost my job at Regal and was blessed by the goddess to have another position pop up. I really can’t afford to jeopardize it right now.”
“Oh? Where are you working?”
I think fast. I don’t want to lie to Jeremy, mostly because his witchy skills make him a human lie detector. But also, I can’t exactly tell him everything. “I’m working for Full Throttle Records, assisting one of the producers with a special project.” There. That’s the truth.
“Wow.” He tucks his chin in surprise. “I didn’t even know you were pursuing a new career.”
I hate this comment for several reasons.
First, working as a call center rep definitely didn’t make it my career.
It was a job. The only one I could find at the time.
Second, why would it surprise him that I’d pursue something in the music industry?
Until the incident, I was a very successful singer and songwriter.
“Why are you surprised? Music has always been my passion.”
Jeremy has helped me a lot over the last year, but when he purses his lips, he looks like an old woman trapped in a man’s body.
He’s only a few years older than me, much too young to make that face.
It’s an unusually judgmental expression, considering I’ve done nothing wrong.
“It’s just that music is such a trigger for you, hun.
Your parents have always been really adamant that they feel you would have never tried gold dust if not for the pressure the industry put on you to develop skills and talents you maybe didn’t have. ”
What? My head pounds, and I can’t hold back the words that bubble up my throat next.
“I never used gold dust to increase my musical abilities, Jeremy. Every song I sang, I wrote and performed sober, before the gold dust. I used the gold dust to help our discoverability. I used it to gain popularity, not because I was lacking in talent. It was all about publicity for Raven’s Wish. ”
He raises both hands. “Whatever you say, Zoe. I’m just reminding you that the music industry has been triggering for you in the past.” His voice is annoyingly placating, as if I’ve flown off the handle, although I haven’t raised my voice at all.
I smile so that he can hear it in my voice. “Not triggered, Jeremy. I’m just very busy right now and need to go. Thank you for your call and for your concern. I’ll be in touch about future appointments once my schedule is set. Have a nice day!”
I move to hang up, but he raises a hand and makes an urgent sound. “I’m afraid that won’t do. Your parents are paying me to ensure your ongoing health. I can’t make you continue our sessions, but I must insist that you check in with me regularly, just for their peace of mind.”
I laugh. “I can check in directly with my parents. In fact, I need to call Mom and give her an update.”
“But, after everything, they want me to check in with you. You have to understand, you put them through hell, Zoe. They want me to assure them you’re doing okay. You don’t want to worry them, do you?”
I close my eyes and sigh through my nose, thankful that he can’t see me. I hate this. Jeremy is going to be a pain in the ass. But he’s right. If I cut him off completely, my parents will worry.
“Okay. But just a phone check-in, like today. Do you want to schedule something now?”
He offers a broad, self-satisfied smile. “No need for anything formal. I’ll set a reminder for myself. Best of luck to you in your new position.”
“Wait—” He’s gone. Shit. I really wanted a scheduled call and not some random check-in. Shit.
My stomach growls. Shower. Clothes. Tylenol. Then find Patrick and food.
A knock comes at the door. Who could that be?
I peer through the peephole and then can’t unlock the door fast enough. Patrick stands just outside with a silver tray with what looks like a pitcher of coffee, a carafe of juice, and a silver cloche that smells of bacon.
“Please tell me you brought that for me,” I say.
He grins. “You are the only one living in the cottage as far as I know,” he teases.
I open the door wider, and he lets himself in.
I practically throw myself into the chair the moment he sets the tray down on the table and already have the fork in my hand by the time he removes the cloche.
It’s eggs! And bacon! And buttered toast!
I think I might cry, but first, I pluck a triangle of toast from the plate and stick a corner into my mouth.
Patrick is watching me with a note of joviality in his eyes.
“I’m really hungry,” I say. “Thank you.”
“I’m pleased you’re enjoying it.”
He folds his hands and leans against the counter. I take another bite. Am I supposed to tell him he can go or something?
When he notices me watching him, he raises a hand. “No rush, but Sebastian said you’d have a list for me of things you’d like from the market. And also, the contents of your apartment will arrive today. I’ll need to know what you’d like delivered here and what we should put in storage for you.”
I take a bite of the bacon. Delicious.
Patrick comes to my side and pours me a cup of coffee, then takes the plastic wrap off the carafe of orange juice. I look up at him with a full mouth and eyes that must hold all the gratitude I’m feeling in my heart.
“I’ll return in an hour.” He bows and then slips out the door.