Page 155 of Unravel Me

He disappears into the bathroom, and in the meantime Bay comes back from his room and says, "Eric and the people from my band will be here soon. We have an unexpected online session with the fans, one of our sponsors’ ideas, so we’ll be in the studio, but I have good soundproofing, so Tommy’s room will be quiet."

I nod and sit down at the table with Tommy, picking up the spoonful of leftover peach puree that’s sitting there.

"So? A little more peach?" I smile, looking at him with an innocent expression, and sweet little Tommy opens his mouth and eats a heaping spoonful.

Dear Fate, I feel it again, that love, that happiness that he’s here, that I have him, a kind of feeling nothing can take away from me.

I’m going to make sure of that.

◆◆◆

An hour after Alex leaves, and I manage to get Tommy to fall asleep in the small room in Bay’s apartment.

Bay shuts himself away in the studio, in the most distant part of his apartment, which has been converted into a music studio. From there, I can hear very muffled, quiet sounds of music, guitar playing, and other instruments. His manager and the rest of his band haven’t arrived yet, but they’re supposed to be here soon.

Bay is apparently rehearsing.

I know quite a few of Bay’s hits, and I sometimes listen to some of them on loop because he has exceptionally gloomy, sad songs that have always resonated with me.

Eventually, Bay comes out of the studio. He takes a shower, then pulls a few eggs out of the refrigerator and fries himself some scrambled eggs.

What’s astonishing is that he doesn’t show the slightest interest in me. He doesn’t look at me, not even one glance, and I sense absolutely nothing from him that comes close to any form of attraction. And even men who aren't sexually interested in me often glance my way, politely complimenting my looks, but this is different.

Obviously, that’s very positive, and I’m glad for Alex’s sake, but there’s also something very strange about it, almost icy, almost inhuman. Even though he’s an artist, something in this man reminds me of a soldier.

Eventually, I work up the nerve to say it.

"Listen, could I stay here at your place for a few more days? Until things with Mauro become clearer? Of course, I’ll cover whatever costs you incur for rent—"

Bay shoots me an almost angry look.

"Don’t even talk about any costs. I spend a big part of my time traveling anyway, and I also often stay in my tiny house next to my parents’ place. I have no problem with you staying here."

"I obviously won’t stay here for long… I just need a little more time to make some kind of decision."

"I bet Mauro is waiting very impatiently for it," Bay throws in with a somewhat bitter tone, almost irritated, and I start to feel uncomfortable because I don’t know exactly what he means.

"Well, everything’s come crashing down on me. I need to think things through." I keep my response vague.

Bay glares at me with his brows furrowed.

"Mauro’s a good guy. Don’t keep him at a distance for too long, because you’ll hurt him badly. The longer you wait, the more it will become a True Mate Rejection case, and that wound between you won’t be something you can heal in a few days," he adds as he cracks the eggs into the pan.

I blink, wondering why the hell he’s suddenly giving me this whole speech, and purse my lips. We’re not close enough for him to have any right to tell me what I should do with my love life.

"Then maybe you can explain how you know Mauro, and the Ferro family in general? They’re fucking mafia. You don’t just casually become friends with people like them."

Bay is still busy making his food, his back turned to me.

"The guy I trained with for a long time and still go to for training is also the Ferro brothers’ trainer. I sparred with them often, sometimes a few times a week. It’s been twelve years now."

I’m stunned because I never expected that information. For one, I had no idea Bay knew anything about martial arts. He’s the artsy type, but on the other hand, it also weirdly fits his stern energy.

And then there’s his body. He tends to wear loose, artsy clothes: black silk jackets with unusual details, loose T-shirts deliberately frayed at the edges, or mid-length tank tops layered over long-sleeve shirts. They tend to hide his build, but I have a good eye for these things. I’d say he really does have the physique of a wrestler, though he seems to go out of his way to disguise it with the way he dresses.

"Twelve years? That’s a hell of a long time! I mean, you must know him pretty damn well!"

Bay doesn’t look up. He takes his plate and starts eating, and for a moment there’s silence.