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“No,” she stops me before I can finish. “It’s going to be too noisy, and there will probably be a gazillion people, so I figured he better stay home. Besides, he’s not familiar with the space, so it’ll be extra hard for him to focus on work. I don’t want that tonight.”
“Are you sure?” I ask once again, needing her to be completely comfortable tonight.
“Yes, I’m sure. I know…”
“No, I mean, are you sure you want to go?”
To be seen with me?
I don’t voice that last part out loud, but she must read it in my tone anyhow.
“I want to be with you, and if this is how I can do it, so be it.”
“I could always cancel?”
She quirks her brow at me. “And piss off your mom?”
“Well… she’d get over it.” When Penelope doesn’t say anything, I add, “Eventually.”
“No, she won’t. She hates me as it is.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” My mother wasn’t the warmest of people by any means, but she didn’t hate Penelope. “She likes you just fine. What she doesn’t like is that I’m not doing my job for which she’s making sure I get paid a pretty penny.”
I actually think she was pretty impressed by Penelope. I don’t think anybody has stood up to her in a long time. Yes, she was annoyed, but I didn’t miss that almost approving look she shot her way before we left the restaurant.
“If you don’t want to go, we can…”
Penelope moves closer, her fingers pressing against my lips. It still baffled me how easily she moved. It made me feel less like an asshole for not noticing sooner that she was blind. If you don’t look for the signs—or notice the obvious like Henry or her cane—you’d never know she couldn’t see.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
PENELOPE
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve listened to the recaps of music and film awards on TV, but nothing could have prepared me for what came my way.
A limo—yes, a freaking limo—picked us up at Sebastian’s place because superstars don’t drive themselves to the music awards show.
They’re driven there.
By professional drivers with limos.
Sebastian holds my hand all the way to the venue, and the more time passes, the more nervous I become.
Finally, the limo starts to slow down. My hand is a sweaty mess, and I’m pretty sure Sebastian can feel it, but he doesn’t let go of me.
Then the car pulls to a stop.
“You ready?” Sebastian asks, his low voice making the hair at the back of my nape rise.
I suck in a shaky breath, the fingers of my free hand wrapping tightly around the folded cane sitting in my lap as that knot in my stomach grows tighter.
“No,” I admit softly.
Being in the car felt like I was wrapped in a cocoon. Here it was, just the two of us, separated from the big, scary world outside. And it was a very big, very scary world. Even through the closed door, I can hear people yelling on the other side. Flashes going off.
I tighten my grasp on his. “You’ll not let go?”
