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“He must be proud of you.” I state that sentence like a fact.
Because Kit’s the type of person everyone wants to be associated with. He possesses this invisible draw I—mostly—pretend I’m immune to. And it’s not tied to his looks or his money or his personality. It’s justhim.
“Proud, huh?” Kit’s tone is wry.
“That you’re working at the company, I mean.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have been happy if I hadn’t. But I doubt he’s thrilled I’m there either. He and my dad have a complicated relationship. Lili’s the only member of the family the old man seems to like. Maybe he sympathizes with her shoe-shopping addiction.”
My lips quirk. “Are you close with your other grandparents?”
“Not really. My dad’s mom died a long time ago. And my mom’s folks aren’t exactly the warm-and-cuddly sort either.”
I nod. That assessment tracks with my observations at the Red, White, and Blue party I attended at Lili’s grandparents’ mansion. They were regal, not friendly.
“You talk to your dad lately?”
I’m not sure how Kit, of all people, picked up on the dysfunction that everyone else in my life is—or acts—oblivious to.
“Yeah,” I reply, twirling the end of my ponytail.
I talked to my mom last weekend, updating her on my new job, so close enough.
“Is he teaching Biochem this fall?”
It’s an innocent question, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a test too. A quiz to determine if I’m lying.
“I don’t know. We didn’t discuss his current classes.”That’s true at least. We didn’t discussanything. I clear my throat and glance at the exterior of my building. “I should, uh, go. Thanks for the ride. Say hi to Lili for me.”
Kit doesn’t reply right away. He’s busy peering past me at the building. “You don’t have a doorman?”
“That costs extra.”
I was apartment-hunting without knowing my salary or when I’d have one again. The only person I knew in New York was Lili, and I was too proud to take her charity. And too cautious to move in with strangers. I was lucky to find this studio.
He’s frowning now. “You should really have a doorman. Otherwise, anyone could walk in?—”
“Anyone who’s not a resident has to buzz in.” I don’t mention that the door sometimes gets propped open with a rock to make deliveries easier. “This place is way nicer than where I lived in Chicago.”
“Is that supposed to make me feelbetter?”
At first, I figured Kit was simply scandalized by how the bottom ninety-nine percent lived. The realization that he’s worried aboutmeshouldn’t make my chest warm, but it does.
My voice is soft as I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Kit’s still frowning when he glances at me, but he gives me a reluctant nod. “Okay.”
I nod back, unbuckling my seat belt and reaching for the door handle.
“Iamsorry about what I said earlier. You’re not just an assistant, Collins. Selfishly, I’m so damn glad you didn’t move to New York to play at Carnegie Hall or do something else to do with music because I love working with you.”
I want to cry. Or laugh. Or scream.
There’s no way he could have known that I’d dreamed about performing at Carnegie Hall when I was younger. My mom had taken me to a performance there for my tenth birthday, and I was transfixed.
He’s apologized—twice.
And the kicker? He said workingwithme, like we’re a true team.