“Where’s the best place to get a suit or tux?”
“I don’t know. Look it up.”
I frown. “Where do you get yours?”
“Lorenzo comes to the house with swatches. Then he returns with my suit after he’s made it.”
“Who’s Lorenzo?”
“My tailor.”
“Can you give me his number?”
“I could, but despite your endless ‘respectfully, fuck you’ comments, I like you. And I don’t want you to embarrass yourself by calling my tailor, who will charge you north of ten grand for a suit. And he won’t have it ready in time for you to take June to the orchestra, unless the orchestra is in the fall. So, I think we’ll get you something off the rack. Or you can rent a tux.”
Monroe’s math might have me rich in six months, but I’m not there now. I’m still poor … and clueless.
Chapter Twenty-One
June
Callie’s asleepwhen I look in on her, so I slip into her room and let my eyes adjust. There’s just enough light filtering through her sheer curtains to reveal the photos on her wall, including the little blond boy with a wide, unguarded smile, the kind that punches right through your chest. I swallow hard, blinking back tears. I can’t imagine what must have happened.
Behind her armchair sits a turntable with records neatly slotted beside it. I flip through them.
“Do you like music?” Callie’s raspy voice startles me.
I spin around. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop. Or wake you.”
Callie sits up, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. “It’s nice to see you, again. Have you been here long?” She combs her fingers through her hair before standing and smoothing the soft pink cotton dress that hits just below her knees. A nightshirt, perhaps.
“Only a few minutes,” I say, resting my hands on the back of the chair. “And yeah.” I glance back at the records. “I love music.”
“What do you like to listen to?” she asks, padding closer as Loki jumps off the bed.
“Everything. But I have a soft spot for the cello.”
Her pale blue eyes widen. “So do I.” She slides past me and thumbs through the records. “I took cello lessons years ago, but I gave it up after we had our son. It’s brutal on your fingers.”
I stare at my left hand and the soft finger pads where calluses used to live.
She places a record on the turntable. “This is one of my favorites. It’s a unique mashup of classics from Bach and Beethoven with undertones of heavy metal. Metallica, mostly.”
I close my eyes when the first song plays, but I open them again as she taps my arm with the album cover.
“Have you heard them?”
The cover is black with a galaxy of stars split by four comets with tails of music notes, all colliding at the center into broken instruments: a cello, bass, piano, and violin. The band is called A World Away.
“I actually have this album,” I say.
“So good, right?” Her face brightens. “Rupert and I saw them in concert years ago.”
Three knocks sound at the door. “Can I come in?” Flynn asks, already pushing it open.
I quickly turn.
“What are you looking at?” he asks, nodding toward the turntable before picking up Loki.
