AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I wouldn’t ask you to live there if I thought you wouldn’t be able to practice. I know how important it is to you. I know your dream is to play with the San Francisco Symphony one day.”
I love that he supports my goals in life. “I don’t call it a dream, I call it a plan,” I remind him.
He covers my hand with his and entwines our fingers. “I know you do, and I have no doubt you’ll do it. Your talent is just waiting to be discovered.”
“Thank you, Ryker.”
“So, what do you say?”
Images of Ryker’s penthouse apartment wander through my mind. Floor-to-ceiling windows, gleaming hardwood floors, and white. Lots and lots of white. The kitchen almost hurts my eyes with its white cabinetry, white tile, and white countertops. The white doesn’t end there. His couches are white, his area rug is white, his sheer curtains are white. I’m scared to breathe, to touch anything, or to be human in any way, shape, or form. He keeps it pristine. I’m not a messy person, but I’m also not a squeaky-clean person either.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I’m worried about making a mess in your home. Your apartment screams,I’m going to need everyone to stop living here, please.”
He stares at me blankly. Ryker and humor are not friends.
“I know you’ll take excellent care of my home. I have no reservations on that front.”
No pressure. “Yes, of course I will.”
His head tilts back, his chin jutting forward, a sure sign of confidence. I’m glad he feels so sure of me. I wish I felt the same.
“So, you’ll do it then? You can stay in my master bedroom. I think you’ll find it very comfortable. I’ve spared no expense.”
I sigh. His bedroom is whiter than the kitchen. I’ll cause something to smudge simply by looking at it.
Should I do this? A list of pros wanders through my mind. First, no rent for three months. That would help my finances a lot. That’s huge. Even though the symphony pays me well, rent in San Francisco is crazy high and I’ve been trying to build up a healthy savings account.
Second, I’d live in the lap of luxury. That one’s a no brainer.
Which leads me to the third reason this would be good for me. It would be the ideal atmosphere for concentrating on my intense practice sessions.
I wrack my brain and try to think of any cons. Other than the color white, there are none.
It’s an offer I can’t refuse.
“Okay, I’ll do it. Arthur will be my bodyguard and constant companion. How can I resist?”
Arthur is his teacup Yorkie Poo, a cross between a Yorkshire Terrier and a Poodle. He was chosen by Ryker, I’m sure, because the Poodle in him means he doesn’t shed all over his furniture. He’s the tiniest and sweetest dog I’ve ever seen. He’s scared of his own shadow and is almost always shaking. I was in love with him the moment he walked toward me on wobbly legs, while I coaxed him with my voice. He placed his two front paws on my left shin, begging to be held. He’s such a lightweight, I couldn’t even feel the pressure of his paws on my leg.
When Ryker announced that his dog’s name was Arthur, my heart melted in my chest. “Arthur,” I’d said, “You’re adorable.”
I remember chuckling because Arthur is such an old man’s name and here was this delicate creature looking up at me with literal puppy dog eyes. Once I picked him up and cuddled him in my arms, we were friends for life. He’s my buddy.
“Arthur worships you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” I sort of want to add, “Too bad yours aren’t.” But I bite my tongue and keep my thoughts to myself. Bitterness is so ugly.
If Ryker can tolerate a dog in his white space, surely he can tolerate me. Either that or my future is destined to be an episode ofThe Odd Couple.
“You’re going to love living there, Mila. And practicing with that view, it’ll inspire you.”
“I’m sure the acoustics are pretty amazing too.” I’m starting to feel excited about living in Ryker’s home. Although, at some point, we will need to have a serious discussion about color.
“I’ll make all the arrangements first thing in the morning.” He scoots closer and lines the back of the bench with his arm. He doesn’t touch my back or shoulder. “The future looks bright for us, Mila.”
“The future looks bright,” I repeat, wondering about the luminosity of that statement.
