I continue what I’m doing, aware of her gaze on my face as I fix the coffee, then slide the mug toward her.
“Forgive me,” I say.
“I already have,” she whispers, her eyes shining. “It’s not about that, it’s…”
Her gaze drops to the cup and a smile that squeezes at my heart tilts her lips as she looks at the smiley cocoa face in the foam.
“My cup’s been half empty without you. Mylife’sfelt half empty without you. You are more beautiful to me than any song ever written,” I add in a rough whisper, repeating thewords I said to her the night she needed me after hearing her song on the radio.
“I’ve held you while you cried. You’ve held me while I cried. And… Tate?”
She blinks through unshed tears and looks at me.
“I want us to hold each other again.” I drop my voice to a strained whisper. “Please.”
She blinks hard, her lower lip wobbling. “I…”
“Time to sing to the birthday girl!” the entertainer announces. “Where’s Daddy? Can you come over here?”
I raise my hand and signal I’m coming.
When I turn back, Tate’s already leaving.
The smiley face on her coffee leers at me in disgust.
You think she’ll forgive you that easily? Think again, asshole.
47
TATE
I stareat the stack of blue boxes that I’ve placed on top of my drawers. I need to return them. There must be hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry inside them. I know Sullivan wanted me to have them, but it feels wrong keeping them.
I open the one containing the daisy chain and stare at it, before carrying it over to my suitcase and placing it inside.
It’s the only one I’ll keep. That, and the coffee he made me at Molly’s party yesterday are the things that have made me question whether I should listen to him and try to start over with him again. I laid awake half of the night considering whether I should go to his place in the middle of the night and tell him I wanted to try again.
Every cell in my body wants to be back with him and Molly.
But maybe it’s too late, and I’m scared of getting hurt again.
I grab some T-shirts and place them inside my case, leaving out the old Linkin Park one that belonged to Brandon. That one’s well overdue its journey into the trash can. The lastAshley heard through some friends of Huck’s—because the guy seems to know everyone—Brandon’s back living in his parents guest room and hunting for a job. Whatever he ends up getting, I doubt he’ll work in music again, something I think Sullivan will ensure, seeing as he also seems to know people everywhere. So at least I don’t need to worry about bumping into him where I’m going.
An urgent thudding on our front door has me abandoning my packing and rushing out of my room, exchanging a puzzled look with my father.
“He’s stealing it!” Larry yells through the door.
Dad opens it and Larry clutches onto the doorframe, his face red as he puffs out, “The guy’s taking it!”
“What guy?” my father asks.
“A fancy suit. Probably a city inspector for noise or something. He’s taking Tate’s piano,” Larry wheezes like he’s run all the way from the basement.
“The piano?” I gasp.
“Yes. He and another guy are carrying it out like they own the thing. Parked their fancy car up, blocking the street.”
I rush to the window, my heart in my throat as I scan the sidewalk below. I don’t see anyone. But I see the car Larry’s referring to.
