by Rica Grayson
Clay walks out of my mini studio, a pair of headphones around his neck.
“Done?” I ask him. Knowing him, when he’s deep in the process of writing his music, it can take him a while to resurface. Clay’s one of the rare people in the industry who has your back when you need them. He let me open for him a couple of years ago on his tour. He didn’t have to, but he did. I owe my success in part because of him.
“Yeah.” Clay heads towards the counter to snag a coffee mug. He places it under the coffee maker. “She’s good.” He nods towards my phone with interest. “Never remembered her being like that.” He’s right. It makes me wonder what else about Blaire I missed seeing for years.
The door buzzes. I shift in my seat, an elbow still resting on the table. I glance at Chris. “I thought you said Riley wasn’t coming.”
Riley has been my drummer for the past two tours. He’s also supposedly caught a cold and couldn’t come today.
Chris eyes the door like a tiger’s about to prowl in any minute and he sighs wearily. He pulls himself to his feet and pads towards the door. He shoots me an odd look. “He isn’t.”
He opens the door wordlessly, only to reveal Blaire standing outside, rubbing her arms. It’s slightly chilly outside this early, and she’s not even wearing a jacket or a cardigan. Her eyes roam around the room. When she spots me, her eyes shut and she draws in a steadying breath. When she opens them again, she steels her expression.
“Blaire,” I drawl. “What brings you here?” This is a surprise. I expected her to have an outburst, but not so soon. Hell, she just bulldozed through every expectation I had when it came to her, didn’t she?
She steps in, color tinting her cheeks.
I bite back a laugh. Wouldn’t do good to make her madder. “I didn’t know you were joining us this morning. Coffee? Tea?” I ask smoothly.
She doesn’t answer immediately, a jumble of words sputtering from her lips.
What did she like again? Chai? Chamomile? Fuck. I don’t drink tea. I just kept the ones I’d gotten as gifts. I have a lot.
“Why would you do it?” she finally asks, wounded.
I hear a door shut, and I notice Clay and Chris have both left us alone in the room.
“What did I do this time?” I ask, curious. I grab a mug for her.
“You need to take the video down,” she demands, only it doesn’t hold much bite. It looks like she’s about to cry.
Narrowing my eyes, I stop rifling through tea boxes. What the hell is it this time? “You seem to have a lot of misconceptions about me. I didn’t upload it, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Bad enough to have everyone posting their own speculation about us, but this is one thing she can’t misunderstand.
Surprise flickers in her expression. That’s right, sweetheart. You were wrong. “You didn’t?”
“No,” I answer, and I watch as she takes it in.
As if realizing the extent of what she’s just done, I watch as her shoulders drop. She looks a little lost, and I resist the urge to touch her.
After that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Now she’s here, right where I want her. My lips curl up, seeing her nonplussed. Maybe it’s time to finally start working on that deal we made.
Chapter 9
Blaire
Embarrassment fills me, hot and strong. It was reckless and stupid to come all the way here. “I’m sorry, I thought…” I give my head a shake. “Sorry for bothering you.”
“You’re not.” And just after I decide to leave, he takes my hand and leads me towards a row of chairs. A small, white bowl of sugar cubes sits on the counter next to a steaming pot of water. He pulls open some drawers.
To my surprise, he places an assorted box of tea next to me.
I perch myself on one of his high chairs. I trace my thumb along the handle of the ornate teapot. Somehow, it strikes me as odd that he has something like this. Flowery designs in pastel colors. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Who knew?
“You disappeared on me. I was beginning to think you were backing out of the deal,” he goads. From the glint in his eye, something tells me he’s finding all of this amusing.
“I—I wasn’t.”
“Plans for today?” he asks, taking the seat beside me.
“Today’s break day,” I answer. I take a small sip, marvelling at the strong flavor of the matcha tea I’d chosen. “I finished editing last night. Thank God.” It’s only after I say it when I realize that I practically announced that I’m free to go out with him.
His phone makes a sound, and when he glances at the screen, a thoughtful expression crosses his face.
“Good,” he mutters in response. “I’ve got a place for our first date.”
I nearly choke on my tea. “Date? Now?”
He leans forward, thick lashes framing his eyes. Why is it fair that he looks this good this close? “Yes,” he utters, and a corner of his lip tilts up. “Now.”
Now? “I’m not really dressed for one,” I try to reason, completely unprepared.
“I don’t mind.” He doesn’t even skip a beat.
Damn it. He’s really not letting me escape this.
“Besides,” he deadpans, “it won’t matter what you’re wearing where we’re going.”
I don’t know what he sees in my face, but he manages to laugh seeing my expression.
I stick my tongue out. “Fine.” He wants a stupid, fake date, he’s getting one.
He leads me towards a sleek black car, and I duck in and enter, going to the very end, putting as much space between us as possible. But as soon as he gets inside too, I’m acutely aware of his presence. And even though his car is plenty spacious, it’s not wide enough for me to let my guard down around him.
Realizing what I’ve done, he mutters something under his breath. He moves to sit closer, an arm slung over the backseat, effectively trapping me. I let out a squeak and he says, his voice rumbling low, “Blaire, if you act as if I’m the plague, no one’s ever gonna believe we’re dating.”
He’s right. But it’s not fair. I’m in his territory. He’s not only comfortable in his own space, he also gets to define the rules. He has me completely off-kilter.
But he’s right. I huff out a breath and stare out the window instead. We’re quiet on the way to our destination, but I don’t dare break the silence. In fact, it becomes an invisible wall in a way, and I take comfort in it.
When the back of his fingers touches the tip of my hair playfully, it nearly makes me jump in surprise.
“Why are you so tense?”
I clear my throat. “Ryan, where are we going exactly?”
It strikes me that I have no idea where we’re going at all, and it only makes me more anxious.
He wears a cryptic smile. “You don’t have to worry, Blaire. You won’t be hounded by the press where we’re going.” He doesn’t elaborate. I don’t know whether to bug him for answers or let it go. Part of me remains suspicious, knowing the antics he pulled on me throughout the years.
Five minutes later, we pull up in front of a familiar gray building. Wait a second… A Children’s Hospital?
I lean forward, squinting through the tinted glass. Yeah, the rows of window pane reflecting the sun and the large sign that looms ahead clearly states we’re going to the hospital.
Concern washes over me. Maybe we’re visiting someone he knows on the way to our date. And even though the urge to ask questions burns my tongue, I don’t. I figure I’ll get the answers soon enough.
He holds out his hand, and I take it wordlessly as we walk in. Electricity shoots through me from the simple contact. He gives me a long look, awareness in his gaze. He isn’t supposed to make me feel this way. Not anymore.
They’re expecting him, I realize as soon as we’re inside. We take the elevator to reach the level above, where a long and narrow hallway greets us.
He stops in front of a room where an older, olive-skinned woman meets us, stark relief plain on h
er face. The dark slash of her brows highlights expressive almond-shaped eyes, and she looks at Ryan tearfully. Her eyes meet mine before they fly back to his. But the look she wore for that brief moment—it’s burned in my mind. It’s the eyes of a woman haunted and broken, but hopeful. The eyes of a woman who has been through hell and endured it all.
Dark circles underneath her eyes, she musters a smile. “Mr. Carson. Thank you so much for doing this. She just woke up.”
“Please, it’s Ryan. How is she?” he asks grimly.
She smiles weakly. “She’s playing your songs, like she does every single day.”
Orion, one of Ryan’s guards, tall with a buzzcut, trails behind us. He’s carrying a huge teddy bear and a plastic-wrapped basket of… chocolates?
But she stops Ryan before he enters the room, her eyes wet. “Ryan, I want you to know—” she stops, choking up in a sob. She pulls herself together, and a wave of admiration sweeps over me at her strength. “This really means a lot—the world—to her. Thank you.”
He nods. His eyes shut and he pulls in a deep breath, as if gathering strength of his own. Without thinking, my hand reaches out to squeeze his. He looks down where our hands meet, and he squeezes back. I don’t know how, but I notice it, the slight easing of his tense shoulders, a small smile touching his lips, before it’s gone. Like somehow, I’d helped carry his burden, too.
The woman pushes the door fully open. Ryan enters first, and I trail behind him hesitantly. I don’t know if I belong here, or how whoever is inside will react to seeing me, but his firm hold on my hand makes me think that, just maybe, he needs me here. It’s a bizarre thought, thinking Ryan would ever need me, of all people. But right now, my hand in his, I can believe it.
In the bed is a little girl of around seven, holding a guitar, almost a mirror of her mom. She’s bald, looking a little frail, and yet it doesn’t dim her smile. One look at what she’s going through and it breaks my heart.
“Ryan,” I breathe out. His somber look is gone, replaced by a charming smile. If I hadn’t seen him moments before, I would think this is how he normally is, even before he stepped inside the room. And how easy is it to see the smile and look past everything else?
The little girl’s eyes widen and she squeals in excitement.
She puts her guitar down when he approaches her, and her little arms wrap around him. He hugs her back without hesitation.
Her energy is infectious.
“What’s your name?” he asks her.
“Grace,” she replies softly.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Good!”
“Mind if I sing you a few songs?”
“Nuh-uh!” She shakes her head.
He’s going to sing. For the kid. My throat tightens.
If he can keep a strong front for her, so will I.
He’s patient around her, in a way I hadn’t seen him before. He’s gentle, and it makes my heart throb in my chest.
He borrows her guitar and sings for her. And as he does, I realize I’m not prepared for this kind of Ryan. At all. How was I supposed to prepare my heart for this?
“Can you sing, too?” Grace asks me. Ryan had just ended his first song, and I feel her burning curiosity.
“Blaire?” he asks, a question in his gaze, and, I notice, a hint of concern. He’s asking if I’d sing for her, knowing what happened a few days ago when I performed in front of so many people.
I consider them both. Her hopeful doe-eyed gaze. His charming grin, devilish and endearing at the same time. It’s a full-on assault. I can’t say no—not that I even want to. I want to do this for her. “Yes.”
Grace fell asleep with a smile. It’s how we left her two hours later.
I won’t forget the way her mom thanked me, the shadows under her eyes somehow lighter, all by rekindling the spark of joy in her daughter’s eyes. How can Grace keep that up? Even though her light may soon fade, she’s still searching for the good in life. In people.
Ryan sighs wearily as we walk the drab, white hallway. I understand. This afternoon… It filled my heart with so much appreciation for music. For life.
Ryan brought me here. I don’t know why he did it, but it hardly matters anymore. In my mind, I assumed he’d simply take me out somewhere public, just to give people something to talk about. Maybe he’d piss me off by bringing me somewhere fancy, so he could order the kinds of food that I can hardly pronounce. But out of all places, he brought me here.
He gave the little girl’s mom a reprieve from facing her harsh reality. By giving them his time, he gave them something priceless and memorable. Does he know that he gave them that? Even now, I’m beginning to see that I was wrong about him. It unsettles me. I’m not used to this side of him.
“Thanks for coming,” Ryan says, his voice low. It affected him deeply, too, I can tell.
I don’t know how to put into words how I feel. It takes a certain kind of strength to take in their situation and still radiate energy and goodness. “She’s amazing,” I say earnestly.
He nods. “She is. She’s a fighter.”
“Yes.” I lean my head against the cool window of his car. I never expected today, and yet I’m glad.
“Hungry?” he asks, gauging my reaction. “Or I can take you home.”
“No.” It’s clear my response isn’t what he expects. “Not yet. I…” I stop, really looking at him. In a way, I feel like it’s the first time I’m really seeing him. “Why here?” I find myself asking. “I wondered… There’s no press. No one’s going to find out about your good deeds.” This whole deal is meant to help him with his album promo, and yet, what just happened was far from anything public at all.
He shrugs, as if it doesn’t concern him at all. “Her mom was. She’ll talk.”
“But…” Somehow, doing it for the exposure felt like an afterthought. And if it was… Why bother to ask me out at all?
A niggling feeling tells me it’s not the entire truth. Maybe it’s from the inflection of his voice, or the way he keeps his expression blank, his eyes refusing to meet mine. Or maybe I know him better than I thought.
A drive-thru burger joint?
For a moment, I stare at where we’re heading. Ryan decided eating won when my stomach decided to announce my hunger, much to my chagrin.
But a drive-thru? There he went, surprising me again.
His fingers touch my chin and he closes my jaw, my mouth gaped open in surprise. I give him a wide-eyed look and then my attention is drawn back to the burger place again. He’s clearly enjoying this.
“What do you feel like?” he asks.
Brows knit, it takes me a moment to answer. “No jalapeños. I’m fine with trying anything else.” He places an order. Pushing my hand in my purse, I fish for my wallet and take it out. As I do so, I watch as Ryan hands his card over, beating me to it.
Well. That was fast. My eyes shut, and I take a few deep breaths. “You did not just do that.”
“Blaire. It’s fine,” he says. Probably thinks I’ll melt to him like glue or something.
Oh no, he isn’t going to do this every time. “From my understanding, this is a fake date. So why are you paying?”
“So you don’t have to,” he declares. There’s no doubt in his voice that he thinks it’s the right thing to do. His expression turns hard when I open my mouth to protest further. “Fuck, Blaire. It’s burgers and fries. We are not having this conversation.”
I know it’s just a meal, but I stew in silence. I don’t like owing him. Not him, who I was constantly at odds with at every turn. I know he isn’t the type to use it against me, but it still makes me feel vulnerable, and I don’t like feeling that way around him. And I can’t help the niggling feeling that he’s up to something ever since the wedding. I don’t push him further. I know I won’t win this tonight. Next time, though. Our driver passes him the paper bag, and from where I’m sitting, I can smell the toasted milk buns and grilled beef. My mouth waters. He hands me my burger a
nd fries, and a bottle of apple juice.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, eager for the food.
“You’re welcome.”
We spend the first few minutes digging in as the car starts moving again.
I can’t help but admit to myself that he made a good choice with a simple cheeseburger. “So where is the next supposed date?”
“Hmm.” He pretends to think, and my senses go on alert. “I haven’t thought about it.”
As if he hasn’t. I roll my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
He smirks. “You’ll just have to wait and see, then.”
I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he just tell me? Almost immediately, an answer comes. Of course. He wants to watch me squirm, all anxious about where we’re going.
I recoil at the thought, determined not to give him the satisfaction. I cross my arms stubbornly. “The way I see it, you need me. I need you,” I remind him. “It sounds like a partnership to me. I think I have a right to know the strange places you’ll take me to.”
He gives me a considering look. He pushes his hair back, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “You really don’t trust me?”
“No.”
He mutters something low under his breath. In an unexpected move, he leans forward. I almost think he’s going to tell me where he’ll take me next, but instead, his lips quirk up, and he grins. “That’s too bad. I like surprises.”
Argh. “I’ve had it with you.”
I know he’s teasing, but I just don’t like being kept in the dark, especially if it’s him who’s calling the shots. I could ask my brother for some hints later. See what he says.
Before I know it, the car slows to a halt at my apartment building.
“Thanks for today.” I don’t know why, but I hesitate for a moment. “Will it be okay if… Will you let me know what happens to Grace?”
He nods. His eyes roam over my face. And strangely, it feels as if he’s looking at me for the first time. Like everything about this is new and exciting, and I feel as if I’m not really me. I’m someone else—his ideal date, perhaps. Someone daring and spontaneous and confident in her own skin. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”