Subject: Heartbroken
Are you telling me you never found me funny? I’m hurt.
I had no idea your mom moved to NYC. If you need a lawyer to evict her once you come out, let me know. I have a few good names that are extraordinary. Sorry, I don’t have anything good to say about the woman. I hate her.
Next week we’re going to be hanging out at my place. Are you in?
Z
Chapter Twenty-One
Zeke
The constant exchange of emails between Ethan and me sets up a new rhythm in our friendship. During the week we discuss what upset us about our past. There are times that we vent about our therapists. Those are mostly issues that have nothing to do with our relationship. When it comes to us, I guess we’re getting closure.
We’re at a place where we can coexist without fighting, flinching, or—and this is the most important—fucking. That last word has a wide range of descriptions, so I’ll just leave it at that.
In our emails, we sometimes agree on where to go or what to do during the weekend before Hannah suggests it. She just doesn’t know that we’re controlling it.
Our small family is finally back. Well, all of us but Rocco. He continues to play with Midnight Buzz as the rhythm guitarist. Greco Karls is back from his surgery or rehab. I doubt Rocco likes being back to what he used to call the invisible guitar.
While volunteering at the academy and teaching music to a couple of kids who live in The Coop, I understand that we messed up with Rocco’s chances. He never had the opportunity to explore what he could be good at. We just pushed him to be part of our group. I hate to recognize that he’s a mediocre musician. Unless he’s playing with Tuck, he doesn’t perform well. Still, Midnight Buzz wants him because he drags our fans along with him.
That’s another big order of guilt I need to work on because I shouldn’t be carrying it, but it’s there. Hannah misses Rocco a lot. As I keep mentioning to Ethan, I’m happy with the way our dynamic works. I can live without him being close by.
There are no secrets, drama, or bad ideas that pull us together but break us on the inside. One night, while we’re at Hannah’s place, we come up with a brand-new song. That’s the first time we’re inspired enough to create a melody. However, the bongos I use aren’t enough to make it sound great.
Since we need a bigger place, Tucker suggests we buy a property to build a studio. This suggestion happens almost simultaneously as Ethan is ready to sell his Bainbridge Island mansion on the market. We all agree that instead of selling it, we should buy it from him.
The entire first floor becomes a studio. The kitchen and the bedrooms in the upstairs area stay the same.
Once it’s ready, Tucker, the numbers guy in the group, suggests we rent it out to other musicians. It becomes the Airbnb of the music industry. We block the weekends we want to be there and leave the rest open for whoever wants to come and either record something or just practice.
We establish a routine that includes hanging out every weekend. We only travel one weekend a month. The other three, we try to stay in Seattle.
Some Sundays, Ethan and I spend our day between the Hades and the Deckers’ homes, having family time with them. When Alex’s family comes to visit, we hang out with them. It’s like having three families, and yet, some days, I still feel like I haven’t found my place in the world. It’s okay. At least I’m not lonely anymore.
During the week, I go to school, work for Sadie, and if Ainsley calls me to sub for a teacher, I rearrange my schedule. Some evenings I give private music lessons or just help with kids at The Coop.
Once I finish my degree, I’ll get my own classes at the academy. School isn’t kicking my ass this time.
During the evenings, I crash at Hannah’s place so I can work in Alex’s workshop. There’s something about using my hands to build a new item that relaxes me. It’s like music. I not only use my body to create things, but my soul too. Some days, I consider buying a house so that I can have a studio and a workshop.
My life isn’t perfect, but I’m content.
One minor glitch is Hannah, who has this obsession with becoming a matchmaker. She’s terrible at it. I keep telling her to stop selling love-flavored Kool-Aid to everyone. I’m not ready to date or think about a commitment with a person, a pet, or even a long-term project.
The day I graduate from school, Ainsley Bradley offers me a full-time job teaching music to preschoolers, kindergarteners, and first graders students. It’s a no-brainer to accept, but that leaves my summer free to do…nothing.
My master’s degree grants me my parents’ assets, but I don’t contact the law firm right away.
It takes me six weeks and several therapy sessions for me to reach out to Fitz Everhart. He’s the one who helps me get my inheritance without having to go into the lawyer’s office. Ethan offers me his conference room to do all the paperwork with him. Unfortunately, that opens the door for Ethan to be there. It’s not like I don’t want them around each other, but it’s awkward when your hot lawyer is flirting, and your hot ex wants to challenge him to a duel because he’s jealous.
“If I knew you were the rich one, I would’ve put some claim on you a few years back,” Fitz says.
“Are you always this unprofessional?” The edge of annoyance in Ethan’s voice is unmistakable.
“Only with the clients I like and are hot,” Fitz winks at me. “Those who have jealous exes in the same room are the best to toy with. You make one squirm while the other is brooding in the corner planning my murder.”
I laugh, pretending it’s funny, but look at Ethan, wondering how Fitz knows about us. Is he not only coming out but also telling people, Zeke is mine?
If this weren’t so stressful, I’d enjoy watching Ethan mark his territory. Not that he has one. I don’t belong to him. Are there times when I wish we were more than just pathetic friends? No. I don’t care if he looks classy, smart, and hot in that grey pinstripe suit. Does it matter that his eyes pop with the color of his dark tie? I don’t give a fuck.
That his new haircut makes him look like a movie star? It doesn’t matter at all.
Who am I kidding? I wish he were sitting beside me, holding my hand.
“Anything I need to know beforehand?” I ask.
“Well,”—Fitz fixes his tie, straightening his posture—“as your lawyer, I’d recommend that if you ever think of living with someone, get a partnership contract. Before you propose because you fall madly in love, get a prenuptial agreement. It’s anticlimactic, but it saves you money and headaches.”
“Stop, Everhart,” Ethan warns him.
The deep pounding beats of my heart echo in my ears so loud that I stop listening to their bickering. It’s impossible to get my brain to come up with a logical thought when it’s stuck on the fact that I’ve become part of the 1% of the population that has more money than they can count. I don’t need all these businesses, properties, nor money.
Add to it Fitz’s comments about how I have to guard myself and my heart. This time I crave to be at the workshop sanding a piece of wood. The sound of the sandpaper against the surface is musical. The scent of wood gives me a sense of peace.