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She laughed outright this time. “In my defense, I did a lot of drugs back then.”
“How long ago did you…” I searched for the right word, “create this?”
“High school.”
“And he kept it? Wonder why he made me give it to you.”
She just looked at the ‘bird’ on her finger. “Because he knew.”
Seventy-Two
Cee
That motherfucker.
I stood in the middle of the woods, staring at the stupid bird on my fingers.
“I have a feeling he’s right under your nose.”
“Because he knew,” I replied to Sergio’s question without fully explaining what was happening here. Eli knew Sergio would be the one to put me back together. I took the ‘bird’ off my finger and slipped it into the pocket of my jeans. “That’s enough manipulation from a dead man for one day, eh?” I said, starting my walk back toward the road.
Serge put an arm around my waist, so my hands were free to sprinkle ashes down the side of the path. By the time we got back to the car, I was a blubbering mess. Serge tucked me into the passenger seat with a kiss on my forehead. “You did good, Kate,” he said before shutting the door and walking to his side of the car.
I held the empty box on my lap and watched the tears fall from my cheeks into the plastic bag that lined the box as we made the hour drive back. I had quite the collection of dusty tears by the time we pulled into Sergio’s driveway.
Seventy-Three
Sergio
When she woke up the morning after reading Eli’s note, I was afraid there would be that oppressive sadness hanging over her, but it wasn’t there. A couple of days after that, we brought Wyatt down to D.C. so Mason’s family could parade him around on Election Day. The odds appeared to be in Davis’s favor for President, so Mason-related things were less stressful than Cee thought they should’ve been.
Being back in D.C. had me on edge, but it didn’t seem to faze Cee at all.
“So, Candi and Mason…” I started.
She waved me off. “Been an item this whole time. I’m guessing they’ll come out after the election. His dad probably threatened him within an inch of his life if that got out beforehand.”
“Why? Who gives a fuck who the President’s son is fucking?”
“Oh, my dear, naïve drummer boy. Everyone cares. Everyone who may donate to the campaign, anyway.” She patted my head like a small child.
“Fucking weird.”
“Can’t say I miss it,” she agreed.
“Politics or the spotlight in general?” This held the potential to be the next hurdle keeping us apart.
“I know what I’m getting into, Serge. There’s a difference between being the scrutinized daughter of a public servant and hanging out with a drummer. I know there will be mean girls and tabloid nonsense.”
Relief washed over me. “For dinner, I was thinking I’d take you out on a proper date. How do you feel about that?” It was a new reason to have my stomach in knots. We ate together almost every day. Sure, many of those meals were with the rest of the crew and her kid, but even when they weren’t around, we ended up eating together. But I wanted a date. I wanted her to know it was more than just two friends eating together.
I wanted it all. Every night we were alone we spent cuddling and making out like teenagers. The blue balls were fucking killing me, but I would not fuck this up.
Last night, the way she groaned when I pulled away from our kiss had me thinking she might be on the same page. I didn’t want to be the one she fucked to forget the pain, so I was waiting until I knew it meant to her what it did to me.
In the meantime, I was rubbing my palm raw in the shower.
“A date?” she asked, her smile beaming. Thank fuck. “You don’t have to wine and dine me to get me in bed, Gee.”
