Page 74 of A Song for You

My mind turns to the morning that set all of this in motion. Over a decade ago. I woke early, excited about my school project. My mom made breakfast.

Pancakes.

I haven’t eaten them since.

“Don’t think too hard. You might hurt yourself,” Kevin says from the door of my office.

I turn around and smile. It’s forced. Nothing like the easy way it comes when I’m with Cat. But she wouldn’t smile at me so openly, with so much trust and affection in her eyes, if she knew what my father was up to. What I’ve been up to. She’s close with her brothers. She may not care for her father, but he’s not the only one who will be hurt by this plan.

What the hell is the fucking plan? I need to figure it out so I can prepare for the fallout.

“Drink?” I ask my friend. Kevin started as an intern at Hanson Liquors along with me. It’s nice to work side by side with someone I trust. Even if he’s Carter’s friend too. He doesn’t spend all that much time with Carter. When my father’s accomplished his mission, he’ll choose me…maybe.

I glare at the bottle of whiskey as I pour us each a finger without waiting for his response. Then he’s beside me and picking up his glass and clinking it against mine, grinning. “Where are we headed tonight?” he asks.

Cat texted an hour ago to say she was going clubbing tonight. Mia has been calling and texting her like crazy. Last night, she said she was coming to Boston and wouldn’t take no for an answer. While I don’t love the idea of Mia and Cat hanging out, I trust Cat, and that’s all that matters.

Before all of this, Mia was my friend too. I still feel for her. Yeah, she’s a mess, but who isn’t?

“I’m exhausted,” I admit. And it’s the truth.

It’s been a long week. After long days at the office, I go home and have dinner with Cat. Her enthusiasm over her projects at Jolie feeds into every conversation we have. She wants this Paris internship with Cynthia more than anything. The idea of being apart for months doesn’t sit well with me, but the look on her face when she gushes about it keeps me from voicing my concern. And I’ll do anything to make it happen for her.

Except I want to be with her when she experiences Paris for the first time. I want to experience everything life has to offer with her.

And when we aren’t talking about Paris, or work, or any of the random thoughts that pop into her head, I’m staying up late making her come over and over again. I can’t get enough of her. Even without sex. We’re taking things slower than she’d like, but I want to make her first time special. And the plan I have for that is epic.

Kevin eyes me. “You’re twenty-four, not fifty. Have a fucking red bull and let’s go.”

I laugh. He’s right. “Feel like going clubbing?”

Thirty-Nine

Cat

Get Your Number by Mariah Carey and Nelly

Imake one last sweep of the penthouse before the chaos begins. The candles are lit, and the smell of pumpkin spice fills the air. Mariah Carey’s Emancipation of Mimi album is playing, and I can’t help but shimmy a little to the music.

Sophie is the first to arrive. She steps out of the elevator decked out in a silver sequin dress that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Holy shit!” Her mouth drops open. “You said your family was rich, but this is just…fuck, Cat, I don’t have words. I’m literally speechless!” She shuffles closer, still scanning the open area. “Why would you stay at my house when you could stay here? Can I stay here? We should move in. It would be amazing. Have you seen the elevator? I could live in there.” She points a thumb over her shoulder toward the stainless-steel doors. “It’s bigger than my old dorm room, and I did just fine there. And the security guards downstairs? Hot. Like not Daddy-level hot, but I wouldn’t kick any of them out of bed for eating crackers. I mean, shit, Cat. Look at how you live!”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “Are you done?”

She shakes her head, sashaying to the windows. She’s silent and oddly still for several heartbeats. Then she spins on me, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “Cat, seriously, what is this place?”

I make my way and lift the champagne bottle from where it’s nestled in a bucket of ice. “It is pretty nice, huh?” I admit, pouring us each a glass of bubbly.

Sophie saunters over and takes the glass from my outstretched hand, then clinks it against mine. “To roommates?” she says, her eyes soft and sparkling with hope.

Sipping my champagne, I scan the room. “We can’t live here.” I laugh.

Sophie pouts and goes back to her perusal of the place. “But it’s so pretty.” She runs her fingers along the back of the leather couch. “And empty. It’s such a waste,” she whines.

My lips twist. “It’s fun to use, I know. But living here comes with strings I’m just not ready for.”

Sophie tilts her head and studies me. “Does your family know you’re here?”

My grandfather misses nothing, and he only works a few floors down. But he’s not like my grandmother. He’s not the one who’s always tried to control me.