His music is still beautiful. But the magic is gone.
He isn’t the man I’ve fallen in love with. The song that touched my soul in Grand Central Station was just a fleeting moment where I imagined feeling something. Maybe I’m a fool, for wishing it was Sullivan. The way he plays, the emotion that flows through his fingertips onto the keys; I thought it had to be him. Because the only time I’ve felt such a spark of light inside me except when he plays, is that one time in the station.
I was sure he was lying when he said he didn’t know how to play Unstoppable. But he wasn’t, because it isn’t him. Time to move on and appreciate what’s right in front of me.
“Everything okay?”
I turn at Sullivan’s deep, concerned tone and am met with a brilliant blue gaze that blazes with an intensity that thrums through my body like an electric charge.
“Fine.” I smile at him, resting against the cool leather car seat and looking at Molly beside me. She’s stroking her baby doll’s eyelashes. She’s so much like Sullivan. She even pulls her brows together in the same look of concentration.So adorable.
Sullivan had to stay in the office for a meeting with Jones and a few others, so I watched Molly. She was telling me abouther auntie’s dog who she sneaks into her bed with her when they look after him.
Sullivan’s meeting ran over and we all got takeout and ate together in the conference room. It was strange seeing him relax at work, chatting with everyone as we ate.
Everything felt so natural.
Me, him, Molly.
I glance at him, and his eyes lift from his phone like he senses me. The way they sparkle has my stomach erupting into butterflies. It’s a look that says he suspects what I’m thinking. But he can’t. Because that would mean he’s aware of how hopelessly in love with him I am.
And if he knows but isn’t saying anything back, then…
“Tate?” he murmurs.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, like saying it out loud makes it true.
His eyes narrow like he’s about to ask me something, but the song playing from the car’s radio grabs my attention.
“Cliff? Can you please turn it up?”
I shoot forward, hanging off the edge of my seat, straining to hear.
It’s the same words, the same melody, but it’s completely…wrong.
Bile rushes up my windpipe.
Sullivan straightens in his seat. “That’s your?—”
“My song,” I choke, turning to him in horror.
Ice slithers up my spine as the unknown female artist continues to sing my words like they’re hers. Like they’re her hopes and dreams. Her work.
Not mine.
“You didn’t know about this?” Sullivan states, studying me as I blink rapidly, the back of my neck on fire.
“I think I’m going to…” I swallow.
“Cliff, pull over,” Sullivan commands calmly.
The moment the car rolls to a gentle stop, Sullivanflings his door open and strides around to my side. He opens my door just in time as I fold at the waist and throw up violently in the gutter.
“It’s all right,” he says, gathering my hair from my face as my heaves turn dry.
“Tate?” Molly pipes up.
“I’m okay. Just got a little sick,” I say, giving her a weak smile, not wanting to worry her.
