“Don’t care.” He glanced at me before yanking me toward him. “Why does my wrinkled shirt look so fucking good on you?”
“I’d argue it looks decent on you, too,” I said. “But I have to tell you—this room has the most incredible acousticsandsunlight. I don’t feel like I’m playing in a dungeon. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”
Sam laughed, shaking his head at me. “Consider it yours.”
What the fuck did he just offer?
“What?”
His lips moved over my shoulder, kissing, teeth scraping, sighing, and he said, “Riley and I didn’t know what to do with this space. He wanted to rent it out for porn shoots, but I vetoed that one. If it works for you, it’s yours. Come anytime. Stay. Stay as long as you want. Stay . . . forever.”
I glanced up expecting to see a glimmer of humor in his eyes, some indication that he was joking, but I couldn’t find it.
“You wouldn’t have to book pre-dawn studio time,” he said, his hand sliding under my sweats and over my ass. “You could keep your instruments here, and not have to cart them all over town. We could paint or . . . do whatever you wanted.”
“Did you just ask me to move in with you?” The words ran out in a screechy rush.
“Um, I don’t know.” Sam’s brow furrowed and he released a tight, self-conscious laugh. “Do youwantto move in with me?”
He was being nice. This was his version of generosity, and he simply failed to think about what he was saying.
“We’re all good,” I said, patting his chest. “Don’t worry about it.”
He had an empty room that matched my needs, and he was being a gentleman by offering it up. Nothing more.
“Didn’t you say there was a fireman’s pole around here somewhere? That’s something I have to see.”
IF I COULD have destroyed my phone with some evil glares, I would have. I knew the call was coming, and as always, ignoring it only delayed the discomfort.
“Tiel, hello,” my father said.
“Hi, Dad.” I hated the fake tint in my voice, the impatient cadence that refused—even after all these years—to stop wondering how I became irrelevant and expendable to my own parents. “How are you?”
“Such a busy time,” he said. “Always busy, and we’re happy to be busy.”
“Well that’s good,” I murmured.
“And you?”
“All good,” I said. “The semester is nearly finished, and I’m up to my eyeballs with grading this week. I was actually reviewing some term papers just now . . .”
We did this dance every December. He’d call, tell me I should visit for the holidays to meet my cousin’s fiancé or congratulate my sister on her new home, and I’d dance around the request with some semi-legitimate reasons to stay in Boston.
Last year, I teamed up with a bunch of friends and college students to visit the area hospitals and nursing homes to play Christmas carols. The year before that, Ellie and I went to Disney World. One of my first holidays in Boston, I was working with a particularly challenged kiddo, and his parents asked me to join them on their ski trip to Killington.
I knew Sam’s family was having a get-together on Christmas Eve, but he was careful to mention it casually and never attach expectations to it.
“You should know we think this might be Yaya’s last Christmas,” he said, sighing. “She’ll be ninety-seven next summer, and she hasn’t been healthy. Her heart is giving her trouble, and she can’t get around well.”
I always wished I could be one of those people who cut negative things from their lives and didn’t look back, but I never learned how to make that cut, not all the way. My family wasn’t good for me; they didn’t respect my choices or values, and though my father was attempting to broker some peace, that didn’t alter their opinions of me. But I couldn’t stop caring about them.
“The least you can do is see her at Christmas,” he said. “I know Yaya would appreciate it.”
“I need to look at my schedule,” I said. “I’ll let you know.”
“You should be able to do this, Tiel,” he said. “It’s important. You’ll regret it if she passes and you didn’t say goodbye. For once, think about someone other than yourself.”
My eyes squeezed shut, I took a deep breath and convinced myself it wasn’t worth getting into an argument. It was easier to deal with this now than pretend I needed to consult some jam-packed schedule, only to call back later and agree to visit. Because of course I was going; I would always love my family, and I wouldn’t let my grandmother go without a proper goodbye. “I can take the train down on Christmas Eve.”
