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“You good?” he asks me.
“Sure,” I say, though my jaw is clenched so tight I’m about to crack a tooth. “Why would you think I’m not?”
“Because I spent two years in the navy,” he replies dryly. “And I once saw a man drown. You have the exact same look on your face.”
I say nothing and he leaves. I spend the rest of the night up on the terrace and when light breaks, I take a quick shower and wait for her to show up in the piano room, leaning my forehead against the cool window. The street is quiet for a split second before it starts bustling along for the day, and I try to force myself to be calm with it.
For the first time in ages, I am truly grateful. The stage is ready, rehearsals are going well, the choreography is almost done. Eden is on her way to meet me here. And I am writing again.
Nothing, absolutely nothing seems impossible.
Except for my broken heart to start beating properly again.
The Elliot sisters chat room
Manuela: How is the job going, En?
Eden: It’s going well and also horribly at the same time. My boss…
Faith: THE PRINCE
Eden: Please stop it with that, it’s weird. This person is my boss. Well, technically Weston Spencer is my boss, but..
Faith: Hold the phone a freaking second here. Do you mean the actual pirate prince himself, Mr. Tristan freaking Muscles is your actual boss?
Eden: Yeah, he… Manuela signed me up for his charity program, remember?
Faith: I remember.
Manuela: It was a job opportunity, not a charity. And Wes Spencer approved the request personally within seconds. He emailed me himself. I think he was crying.
Eden: He wasnot.
Manuela: Well, he should have been. After he read your story and everything.
Eden: You know how much I hate pity. Besides, the whole world already knows my story, he didn’t need to read anything other than my name. The rest is implied.
Faith: Will you guys please stop talking about all of that? I can’t stand it.
Manuela: It’s not a charity. It’s a program.
Eden: Well, anyway, Isaiah…
Faith: THE PRINCE
Manuela: Fee!
Faith: Sorry.
Eden: I’ve been working with Isaiah for a week now. Almost non-stop. Watching him compose is almost a religious experience. And I’m the first one to hear his songs… It’s pure magic. But…
Manuela: HOW CAN THERE BE A BUT?
Eden: It’s no big deal, just… He doesn’t seem to want to do anything to do with me outside of work. Which is fine. I’m hired to help him write. He doesn’t have to have anything to do with me personally, right? But it’s weird. When I address him, he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. I try to talk to him and he won’t look my way.
Manuela: Wait, what?
Faith: Well, our prince sounds like an absolute jerk.
