“I’ll have to wait to go back in. Wait until I’m stronger. Otherwise, I won’t be able to get the most of my time in the Gold Room.”
“How long?”
“A day? Maybe two?”
I nod. Dark circles have formed under her eyes. She needs rest. “I’ll help you back to your house.” I release her hand. A drop of syrup lingers on the corner of her mouth. Absently, I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. I bring it to my mouth and suck the sweetness from my skin. Her eyes lock on my mouth, and I remove my thumb quickly, shifting in my chair.
“You’re sweating again.”
“It’s a dragon thing. Don’t worry about it.”
She drains the rest of her orange juice. We stand and walk slowly toward the back door.
“Will you play for me sometime?”
“The violin?”
“Yes.”
“Sure.”
She smiles weakly.
I gather her things for her, including her outfit from the wash, and walk her past the pool to the door to her cottage. She fishes the keys out of the side of the black bag and lets herself inside, before taking her bag from me. Our eyes meet and hold as she slips the strap onto her own shoulder.
“Goodnight, Zoe,” I finally say.
“Thanks for the pancakes. Again.”
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.
