The interview took way too fucking long. I tried to be patient, but all I really wanted to do was talk to Charlotte. After what seemed like a million questions, the reporter finally thanked me for my time, and we shook hands. Arthur showed up – how did he always know exactly when to appear and disappear? – and escorted the woman away.
I blew out a breath and leaned back in the chair. This was one thing I hated about this business. I just wanted to write music and sing. Was that really too much to ask? I snorted. And Walt wondered why I’d skipped out on the last interview. It wasn’t all about my beautiful distraction.
I ran a hand over my chin and cocked my head. Someone was playing the piano downstairs. Moonlight Sonata.
My chest started aching again.
At the door to the music room, I paused to watch Charlotte as she sat at the baby grand. She’d taken her hair down, and it looked like dark water, spilling past her shoulders. She still played well, and I listened for a few minutes before walking over to her and settling on the bench beside her. It was a damned sight bigger than the one that had come with her little electronic beast. I was kind of disappointed not to have her pressed against me again, though.
She played a few more notes, her fingers dancing over the keys.
“You’re still pretty good, Charlie,” I said, ad-libbing a little harmony on the higher octaves.
She smiled, almost to herself, and nudged me with her shoulder. “You’re better, Kyle,” she whispered.
I grinned. “You have no idea, doll.”
We both stopped playing at the same time, and I turned to her. Her eyes were sad. She took off her glasses, set them on the piano, and bowed her head.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you yesterday,” she murmured. “That was unprofessional of me.”
I lifted her chin with a finger. “Yeah, well. So is this,” I said, and kissed her deeply, sliding a hand into her hair and pulling her closer. She melted into me, and that ache in my chest got a little bit stronger. Her lips parted, and I explored her whole mouth with my tongue. She still tasted like cranberries.
We were both out of breath by the time the kiss ended. She tilted her head and studied me.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t dating Natasha?”
I frowned and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Wasn’t that in the binder Walt gave you?”
She shook her head. “No. Just the articles saying that you were a couple.” She laughed weakly. “And here I was going to tell you that it was all right, that I’d back off.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.” I kissed her lightly. “If I’d known, I’d have said something.”
She shook her head again. “It’s not your fault, Kyle,” she said, and I chuckled softly. She had no idea how much I loved hearing my name on her lips. “I wasn’t thinking.” She rolled her eyes. “Clearly.” She sighed. “I’m really sorry. I’ve had some... pretty bad experiences with musicians.” I raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she smiled wryly. “Natasha still thinks you have something together, you know.”
“Yeah.” I snorted. “But she doesn’t own me, doll.” I leaned down and brushed my mouth against hers. “You do. You have for months.”
She blushed and tried to look away, but I took her face in my hands and kissed her again.
“Don’t ever think you need to turn that pretty face away from me, Charlie,” I murmured against her lips. I felt her smile and stole it with another kiss. Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her mouth. “Was that why you were upset with me this weekend? Because of Natasha?”
Charlotte drew back, shaking her head, and I dropped my hands to her shoulders. “Not because of her, exactly.” Her cheeks turned even more pink. “I thought you were playing us both.”
I raised both eyebrows. “I’m not that kind of guy, I swear.” I drew an X over my chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” She laughed, and damn, it felt good to hear. I leaned down to kiss her again when my phone rang. I groaned and pulled it out.
Wendy. Shit.
“I gotta take this,” I said, kissing Charlotte’s forehead. She smiled and nodded, and I slid off the bench and walked out of the room, heading for the stairs. I swept my phone open as I crossed the foyer.
“Talk to me, Wendy.”
Her voice was hushed, and it sounded like she was calling me from inside a closet.
“Tony has plans on Friday,” she said. She was almost slurring her words. “He’s going hunting with his friends.”
“Maybe he’ll get into a hunting accident,” I growled, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Kyle.”
“Okay, okay.” I frowned. “What’s he done, little sister?” She didn’t say anything. “Wendy, what’s he done? I can barely understand you.”
“It’s nothing,” she whispered. “Just a little bruise.”
A little bruise? Fury surged in my chest, and I stormed into the office and slammed the door.
“Wendy,” I said, trying to control my temper. “Wendy, if he hits you again, I’m going to fucking kill him.”
She ignored me. “He’s leaving at ten, I think,” she mumbled. “Can we meet at the diner?”
I took a deep breath. “Of course. Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.” She paused. “How are you, Kyle?”
I was fucking fantastic. Apart from her latest encounter with Tony’s fists, of course.
“I’m good,” I said. “Really good. I found my girl.”
I could hear the smile in her reply.
“Oh, Kyle, I’m so glad. I’m so happy for you.”
“Me too.” Happy didn’t begin to describe how I felt about having Charlotte in my life again.
“I have to go,” Wendy whispered. I heard a soft click, like someone opening a door. “He’s coming. I love you, Kyle.”
My voice was tight. “I love you too, Wendy. Be safe.”
I hung up and turned. Charlotte was standing in the doorway, her eyebrows raised. I stared at her, and the anger I’d been feeling turned to panic.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
She smiled faintly. “I heard the door slam. Is everything all right?”
“How long...” I couldn’t find my voice.
“How long?”
I swallowed thickly. “How long have you been standing there?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Not long,” she said carefully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was disturbing you.” She ran her nails lightly over the door frame. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“No.” I shook my head frantically. “It’s not what it sounded like.” She tilted her head to the side and just stood there, waiting. Well, at least she wasn’t running. I threw my phone on the desk and held out my hand. “Come here. We need to talk.”
Bad choice of words. No conversation that starts with ‘we need to talk’ ever ends well, does it?