14. Odette
14
ODETTE
I spend the rest of the afternoon lost in music, literally and figuratively. When I get into this state, time slips away, and the world outside the music doesn’t exist. The living room is chaos, but not the Christmas kind. There’s sheet music scattered across every surface: on the piano, the coffee table, the couches, even the floor. My laptop sits open nearby, but I hardly glance at it. The piano keys feel alive under my fingers, responding to every emotion, every shift in my mood. The song I’ve been working is finally coming together, so this trip isn’t a complete waste.
If Hollywood’s golden boy doesn’t want this song, it’s going into Nebula’s next album.
True to his word, Duncan stays out of my way. I’m vaguely aware of him moving around the house, but he doesn’t interrupt, and for that, I’m grateful. He’s surprisingly considerate, despite the mess I’ve made of the living room, which somehow makes this whole situation harder to navigate.
When I finally hit a stopping point for the day, it’s after six. I stretch, my back and shoulders protesting from hours hunched over the piano.
“Perfect timing,” he appears in the doorway like he’s been waiting. “Dinner’s ready.”
“You cooked again?”
“Every artist needs sustenance.” He shrugs, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
He’s right, but I refuse admit it. Instead, I follow him to the kitchen, where the island is already set. I love that we’ve been having our meals in here, as opposed to the dining room. It feels cozy, more intimate.
“What are we having?”
“Chicken pot pie.” He pulls a dish out of the oven, and it smells amazing. “You can’t go wrong with comfort food.”
We eat in companionable silence, and I have to admit, the meal is perfect. Warm, savory, and exactly what I needed after hours of pouring myself into my music. As we’re finishing up, the lights flicker, the kitchen lights dimming and surging back.
The third time it happens, I glance up nervously. “That’s not good.”
“There’s a backup generator. It’ll automatically kick in if the power goes out.”
Once we finish cleaning up, I retreat upstairs earlier than usual, too drained to face whatever awkward small talk might follow. He looks disappointed when I tell him I’m turning in, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods and lets me go.
I take my sleep aid as soon as I’m in my room. The last thing I want is another night of tossing and turning, waking up every hour with my mind racing. The pill works quickly, pulling me into a deep, dreamless sleep.