Biting my lip, I consider him.
“Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get to practice.”
As I turn back, I see Rasmussen glaring at me from down the hall. Was he watching us?
I avert my gaze and keep moving.
When rehearsal is over, I make my way to Meg’s office and knock lightly on the open door.
She shoots me a harried glance and waves me in, one hand pressed to the phone at her ear.
“No, I can’t connect you with Mr. Leroux,” she says crisply. “He’s unavailable.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
I glance around, a quick check that we’re alone.
When she disconnects, she gives me a rueful smile. “If anyone ever tells you men are the only predators, they’ve never been Erik’s first line of defense.” She exhales. “The calls, the emails, the mail. It’s embarrassing.”
She lifts a thong off her desk with the end of her pen.
“It looks used,” she says flatly, then grimaces as she drops both pen and panties into the trash. “That’s actually one of the tamer things. At least it wasn’t a photo of her in them.”
My eyes widen. “People do that?”
“Yep,” she says. “Grossest part of my job.” A beat. “Remy gets women calling too, but he’s not the public face.”
I wrinkle my nose at her. “I just stopped by to say I think I’m going to move out next weekend. I found a motel I can stay at until I figure out what I want.”
"Want flowers? Chocolates? Champagne delivered?” She arches a brow. “Both of them asked me what they can do to apologize. I personally vote chocolate and champagne.”
I melt a little. “That is pretty sweet, I’m just not ready to deal with any of it right now. Maybe someday, not today.”
Chapter thirty-five
Christianna
The air is crisp now. Fall has settled in.
I’ve changed since that day, and if I want to grow, I have to face my past. All of it. My therapist and Meg have been pushing this. I finally know it too. Before it felt like letting go. Now I see it for what it is. Healing, not forgetting.
I’m living out of a week-to-week hotel rental while I figure out what comes next.
Meg’s mother reached out. Told me I was welcome. She loves me in her way, but it’s a love that carries expectations. It’s confining.
Once, there was a house full of singing. Laughter spilled through the rooms. Music was everything.
Then Paw didn’t come home.
The police arrived instead. And a woman with a clipboard who spoke softly and held my hand too tightly.
They took me to a cheerful yellow house.
I told myself no one could have known what it hid. The anger. The rules. The way it punished a child for making sound. Singing was not allowed. Neither was noise. Neither was joy.
I learned to be quiet. I learned to be good.
I pushed myself and graduated early. Meg and her mother took me in. They let me breathe again. Let me play. Mrs. Geroux found me a violin tutor.
