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“I know, right? Plus, you can share with us all the juicy details about you and Atlas.” She wriggles her eyebrows at me. “Can I just say that it’s so cute his last name is Knight; it’s perfect like he’s your knight in shining armor.”
“Yeah,” I say with the most enthusiasm I can muster at the moment, knowing full well that even if I wanted to gush about Atlas and me, I can’t because it’s not even real. “I could use a girls’ night.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it, seeing Atlas’ name on my screen. I slide my thumb across the screen to read his text.
Atlas: I’ll be home late, meetings. Don’t wait up. Oliver will give you a ride home.
“Everything okay?”
I put the phone back into my pocket and tug my apron over my head. “Yeah, just tired from staying up so late. I need a nap.” I yawn, hoping it masks my frustration. Another lonely night at Atlas’ house, I might as well just stay at my place.
“Ugh,” Matilda groans, pushing open the door to leave. “At least you have someone keeping you up late. I can’t even remember back far enough when there was a man in my bed but that will all soon be in the past once I graduate. I’ll finally have some time for a personal life.” She gives me a quick side hug. “I gotta run to class. I have a huge test. Love you!” She takes off jogging down the block toward the train station.
“Bye!” I stand in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment, Oliver offering me a small wave from where he’s standing with the car door open, waiting to give me a ride. I wave back to him, walking over to the car. “Hey, Oliver, how are you doing today?”
“Oh, I’m doing just fine, Stella. How are you?” he asks, adjusting the rearview mirror before pulling into traffic.
“Tired.” I look out the window, wishing I was singing at the club tonight. I don’t miss the atmosphere, the heavy stench of stale smoke and mold from the old carpet almost burning my nose. “Hey, mind if we stop by my apartment first? I’d love to grab a few things.”
“Of course, Miss Stella.”
When he pulls up in front of my building, he looks at me in the mirror. “Would you like some help?”
“Actually, yeah, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
I pack some fresh clothes, my journal, and a few other odds and ends. Then I grab some records and put them in a box, along with my record player and speakers.
“A woman after my own heart.” He smiles, picking up the box.
“You like jazz?” I ask as he glances through the records.
“I do, any music really. I’ve got a collection of vintage vinyl myself. Happy to let you look through and borrow them anytime.”
“That would be amazing.” We continue our small talk as we walk back down to the car. I switch to the front passenger seat, our discussion of music continuing, morphing into other topics along the way back to the house.
“Here you are,” he says, placing the box on the floor in my bedroom.
“You’re so kind. I could have carried that up here.”
“Bah.” He waves me away, his hand going to rest against his lower back. “I may be nearing sixty but I’m still a young man at heart.” He winks. “Now, whenever you want to take a look at my record collection, just come knock on my door. I live in the cottage on the back of the property.”
“There’s a cottage?”
“Oh yes. It was originally built as a stagecoach house way back when the house was first constructed, but it was converted into living quarters years ago.”
I’m curious about Oliver, his past, and if he’s spent his entire life living here and working for the Knights. I want to ask him more but he turns to leave my room, flashing me another grin and wink before exiting.
After putting my record player on the dresser and setting up my speakers, I walk down to the kitchen to see what’s for dinner. There’s a note on the fridge from Regina with a list of all the meals prepared and how to reheat them. I pull out a chicken dish, tossing it in the oven before setting off to explore the house.
I glance at the door to my room after my eyes shoot open, a sound waking me. My room is pitch-black. I sit up and rub my eyes, squinting as I grab my phone to see the time. It’s 1:38 p.m. I toss the covers back, slowly cracking open the door to the outer sitting room after tiptoeing across my bedroom.
It’s Atlas. He’s walking away from my room, down the hall toward his room with a bottle in his hand. His body sways from side to side and that’s when I realize he’s drunk. I open the door a little farther, just as the bottle slips from his hand and lands on the ground. Without thinking, I fling the door open, scurrying down the hall to grab the bottle that’s spilling its contents onto the hardwood floor.
“Hello, darling.” His words are slightly slurred, his eyes glassy as he smiles down at me. I right the bottle, trying to make sure he doesn’t step in the puddle of whiskey at his feet. “You look good from that angle.” His voice is thick and gravelly.
“Oookay.” I take his arm and drape it over my shoulders, wrapping my arm around his waist as I begin to guide him toward his bedroom. “I think you might have had a little too much to drink tonight. Time to sleep it off.”
“It’s your fault, you know,” he mutters as he runs his hand through his hair. “You women.”
