29
Natalie had walked through the door, a bright smile on her face and a gigantic rock on her finger. As for Morris, his normally stoic face radiated satisfaction with a hint of smugness.
Liam stiffened beside me.
“Natalie! Let me see it again!” Jessie threw her tray onto a table and rushed over. “It’s so beautiful,” she sighed as she examined the ring. “The diamond is so clear and sparkling, and the setting is just gorgeous. Take notes,” Jessie called over her shoulder to Gael.
I thought my brother might flinch at the thought of rings and marriage, but he blew her a kiss. Maybe I should have been worried about alien body-snatchers after all.
“Hey, Cerise,” Morris said quietly.
A wave of nausea came over me. I couldn’t face Morris. He’d take one look at me and know I was upset, angry, heartbroken — I was consumed with a dozen different emotions and he’d be able to sense them all.
But I couldn’t ignore him, not with everyone else there.
“Hey.” I plastered a smile on my face, the corners of my mouth only twitching down slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say congratulations yesterday.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Bile rose to my throat. I wasn’t ready for this conversation.
“I’m sort of in the middle of a drinking game,” I said.
“Please?”
Shit.
I took in a heavy breath and nodded. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”
I didn’t need the entire bar to hear this.
We went to the back room full of extra chairs and stacks of boxes. There was barely enough room for two people to maneuver around. I turned to face Morris, dreading what was coming.
“I have something to ask you,” he said.
I braced myself.
“Will you write a song with me?”
My whirling thoughts halted. I stared at Morris, confused.
“A song?”
“It’s the anniversary of…” he trailed off, his brown eyes wounded.
He didn’t need to say it. I’d been counting down the days in my head for the last few weeks.
“We should write a song,” he continued. “Together. In his memory.”
I could feel the mass of darkness roiling inside me, waiting to be released.
“No,” I said.
Morris’s brow furrowed. “No?”
“I don’t— I haven’t—” My breath caught in my throat. “I only ever wrote songs with him.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I was the same. Never joined another band. Not until Kell,” he said, referring to his lead singer, the one who’d recruited him to Feral Silence. “But this will be good. For both of us.”
