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“Breach of contract. Apparently you aren’t answering any of his calls, and thus you haven’t been able to do any of the projects he needs.”
I groaned, wanting to slap myself. “I bit myself in the ass by not terminating my contract, didn’t I?”
“Isn’t it obvious? This is the only way he can get to you, and being the controlling son of a bitch he is, of course he would go this low,” she replied, pulling out another letter from her white Louis Vuitton handbag. “Option one: we try again to break your contract, but believe me, this will be a hell of a fight, and you might lose millions. He will not be as generous as he was in the beginning. I’m not sure what happened, but he is being a prissy little bitch. You don’t have any leftover feelings do you?”
“No, he’s doing this because I’m seeing someone else.”
“You are?” Her blonde eyebrow rose.
“Yes,” I said proudly. “And I don’t want to lose millions, or be in a fight with him for months or years. What is my other option?”
She took a step to the side and opened the door to her town car. “We can go meet with him and see how to work out a schedule, since you are working on other projects. Your contract ends in a few months anyway; there is no point in going to war now.”
“Fine. But try and stop me from murdering him while we’re there,” I muttered, getting in the car.
“If he gives me an opening, I will sue for anything I can think of.”
She was trying to make me feel better, and it was working.
Sebastian Evans was a spineless little prick.
Eli
I walked into my mother's office, and the first thing I saw was her crying in Logan’s arms. “What in the—”
He nodded to the painting on the table and mouthed 'Guinevere'.
She strikes again. I had gone by Toby and Molly’s room again to see them both staring up at her painting, laughing and talking together about it. They were so happy, I almost forgot she was even sick. It was why I had wanted to go see Guinevere. Taking a seat across from them, I tried to touch the painting.
My mother smacked my hand away.
“Mom!” I yelled, pulling back my hand.
She wiped her eyes. “No one is touching it until I can have it framed and put up in your father’s study.”
In all these years, she had not moved any of my father's things from the house. Like he was coming back at any moment. She knew he wasn’t, but she said she liked to close her eyes and sometimes just forget.
“Is she still here?” she asked, looking down at it.
“No, she had an appointment,” I said to her.
“Let me know if she comes back,” she whispered, nodding to herself. “It looks so much like him. She even got the little scar on the side of his chin he got from playing soccer.”
“She said when she came to visit you in your office, she got a good look at all the pictures in here, and she was able to look him up online,” I said with a smile.
“When you guys are all around like this, grown up, I can really see it. You both are like him in so many ways. Did you know he wanted to give up medicine, too?” She glanced between us.
“What? No, he didn’t.” I couldn’t believe it.
She nodded. “He was an amazing saxophone player. He was really into jazz. But in the end, he said it would always be a nice hobby.”
“Point one for the musicians.” Logan nodded to me, leaning back in the chair.
Ignoring him, I looked at her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you always wanted to be just like him. I knew you, like me, couldn’t play an instrument to save your life, so I just let you focus on your books.”
Logan laughed so hard he snorted.
