So dense. He’d been the one telling her to quit her job yesterday. This seemed like a wonderful opportunity to do that.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Sloane said, scrunching up her nose meaningfully at her brother.
“And does this position pay?” Darcy followed up. “More than room and board,” she amended, just to set a floor for her expectations.
“I mean, of course, yeah,” Sloane said, looking a little green. “Um. Who usually pays?”
“Employers,” Darcy said. “At least, record labels and production companies do. Or insurance, maybe?”
“Right,” Sloane said, on more secure footing now. “Teagan’s got good insurance. And even if he didn’t, I’m sure the foundation would pay. Since he is, you know, the CEO. And a Van Zijl. And he needs to be sober todo his job, if that’s so important.” She glared at him over Darcy’s shoulder.
Darcy nodded slowly.
She was already shoveling dirt over the hurt she’d felt when she saw him ready to leave. Because she’d known better than to get attached. Like Kristin said, these guys weren’t reliable. Expecting Teagan to sweep her off her feet was asking for disappointment.
But there was the other piece still, where she’d thought she was making a difference in his life. Helping him. That her job had some meaning to it.
This didn’t change that. If anything, Teagan’s overconfidence in his sobriety spoke to her abilities. She’d probably be decent as a sober companion, maybe even good at it. After all, she’d seen Teagan in a bar fight. She could keep the booze out of his hands by main force, if necessary.
“Okay,” Darcy said, having thought it through. “That sounds good to me. I can do that.” She dropped her hand from Teagan’s mouth and turned to see how much longer she and Sloane were going to have to argue with him.
He didn’t immediately say anything. He was pale except for two bright spots of pink over his cheekbones, lips now pressed hard together. He looked between Darcy and Sloane, then back at Darcy, gaze hanging on her own.
“Give us a minute?” Darcy asked Sloane, who nodded vigorously.
“Cool, I’m gonna go pack,” the girl said, squeezing past Darcy on the stairs.
Teagan’s expression shifted, and Darcy thought he might try to object. So she grabbed him by the front of his sweatshirt, squaring up with him.
“Do you agree with this plan?” Darcy demanded.
Teagan’s mouth flexed again as he unclenched his jaw muscles.
“You really want to go to New York?” he asked when he’d gathered himself, voice very soft.
Darcy nearly shrugged, because she was neutral at best on New York. What she wanted was to go with him and finish what they’d started.
“We don’t have to go to New York,” she said. “August’s also the great wildebeest migration in Masai Mara. We could go see that instead. Would be more fun.”
Teagan exhaled in faint amusement. “I have to go home. I meant, do you really want to come with me?”
Darcy narrowed her eyes at him.
“So, that depends,” she said. “Are you serious about your sobriety? I’m not coming along to watch your downward spiral.”
“I... am going to stay sober,” Teagan said, sounding evasive.
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely?” When he answered, it still sounded like a question. Darcy frowned.
“I meant, forever,” he quickly added. “That’s fine. I know I can’t drink. But. Ah. You’re going to stay in my house?”
“Well, yeah,” Darcy said. “I can’t do my job remotely. And room and board are included, remember. So I’ll go wherever you go, for the next ninety days.”
“Right, of course,” he said, getting even paler, if that was possible.
Darcy shook him by the handful of his sweatshirt she had in her fist.
