Page 10

Taylor

CHAPTER TEN

The Next Day

“There’s a delivery for you,” Jackie says as I reach the counter to place another drink order for a table of five friends celebrating a bachelorette party.

“What?”

“They just dropped off a box in your name. I signed for it because you were busy. By the look of it, it seems fancy.”

My curiosity flares, but I’m also torn about stepping away right now, with the bar so crowded.

Jackie notices my dilemma and smiles. “Go on, girl. I can handle things, but don’t take too long.”

“Have I told you I love you?”

“A few times, but I’m a sucker for hearing it again.”

I hurry to the employees’ area, knowing she must have left it in my locker.

When I open the door, I see exactly what she meant by fancy. Whatever it is, it comes in a long, blood-red silk box.

I hold it against my chest, my heart hammering, because I’m pretty sure I know who it’s from: William.

Who else would send me something—fancy or not? The last delivery I got was a pair of tweezers from Amazon, three months ago.

I run my fingers over the fabric, feeling its soft texture, and when I finally open the box, I see a single red rose inside, plus a note and a velvet case.

I would have been thrilled if it was only the flower, but I start deflating when I realize he thinks he can impress me with jewelry. I may be poor, but I’m not for sale.

I’m tempted to throw everything in the trash and return the velvet box unopened as soon as I see him at his grandmother’s house. But my curiosity about the note wins out.

I slip into one of the bathroom stalls and sit on the toilet lid. I’ve never felt so conflicted. On the one hand, I want to read what he wrote; on the other, I’m afraid I’ll just be more disappointed.

Still, I know myself—I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t check the note.

To my surprise, when I open the envelope, there’s a card and also a ticket to a New York Philharmonic performance.

Oh my God, I can’t give that back! It’ll be the most thrilling event of my life!

I check the date.

It’s the day after tomorrow, my night off. That’s no coincidence. He’s a control freak—he must know which night I’m free.

I open the card, and it contains only one sentence:

For you to keep having nice dreams.

He remembered what I told him that night we talked—when I explained that just having the chance to earn a music scholarship had been a nice dream.

God, what does this mean?

On the one hand, he treated me like any potential conquest, but on the other, he was sensitive enough to give me something he knew I’d love.

So now what do I do? I’m definitely returning the jewelry, but I can’t pass up the chance to see the orchestra.

I open the jewelry box, and I’m amazed at the gorgeous blue hue of the gemstone—it’s the color of my eyes.

It’s not the first time a man has chased me, and normally this kind of pushy approach would send me running as fast as I could. But that’s because I’ve never felt this drawn to someone before. It’s like he’s patiently weaving a web around me, and instead of feeling trapped, I want to get caught up in it even more.

I snap the jewelry case shut, determined to keep the rose and the concert ticket, but just as determined to return the earrings.

I stare at the concert ticket in my hand.

Is he going to join me, or does he just want to give me a nice night out?

It doesn’t matter. I’m going.

I’d like to thank him, but I don’t even have his phone number.

Oh, well. I’ll just tell him “thank you” when he shows up at his grandmother’s, and that’s when I’ll return the jewelry.

* * *

“It must be incredible to see a live concert.”

“Yeah, but I have no idea what to wear. I’ve changed clothes three times. It’s not like I have many options, and people two miles away will still be able to tell I’m broke, but I at least want to look decent,” I tell Bonnie, who got so excited when I mentioned I’d received an invitation—though I didn’t admit who it was from.

Technically, I don’t know for sure, since he didn’t sign the note.

Right, sure. You’re the worst liar in the world, Taylor Jarvis.

Who else would gift me something like this?

I’m already made up, and my hair is done. I’m just still torn between a black dress and a cream one. They’re the nicest I own, though pretty simple.

“Definitely the black, then, my dear. Black is always a good choice. Even the cheapest outfit looks chic. Hold on—I have a shawl you can wear over it. It’ll look more elegant.”

While she goes to fetch it, I slip into the dress. I need to hurry or I’ll be late. I decide to treat myself to an Uber ride there; to get back, I’ll rely on my usual friend—the subway.

Ten minutes later, I’m ready to go, already at the door, when my phone vibrates with an incoming message.

Unknown number: There’s a driver waiting for you outside your building.

My anxiety spikes, and I skip the elevator, rushing down the three flights of stairs. But when I reach the curb and see the driver holding the car door open, I can’t hide my disappointment upon realizing the back seat is empty.

This isn’t a date.

It’s just a gift.

I try not to look crestfallen as I greet the driver, get in, and put on my seat belt.

It’s probably better this way.

I don’t trust myself around that tempting man. William is a forbidden fantasy.