The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

42 - a mistake

NINE YEARS AGO

MUSE sat cross-legged in her bed, staring down at her phone. She was fourteen years old. Ella should have texted her back by now. The time ticked to 9:01 p.m.

      She wasn't used to her new room. Sometimes Muse glanced up, and jolted at the difference. Aunt Aria and Uncle Darius had tried to make the move-in process as easy for her as possible after the car accident. Aunt Aria had helped her plaster David Bowie posters to the wall. Uncle Darius had even gifted her a three-foot Pikachu stuffed animal to add to her collection of Pikachu toys. (She didn't even like Pokemon―she just thought Pikachu was really cute.) They had also asked her what colour she wanted to paint the bedroom walls. She'd picked pink, to match her zebra-striped fuchsia bedcovers. 

      Before her parents died, Muse had begged them to repaint the pink walls in her old room a shade of green. She had told them the pink was "too babyish." 

      But now, even though she lived with her aunt and uncle―even though she could've started over―she couldn't bear to have her room any other colour. 

     Grief counselling didn't really help. It had been a year since the death of her family. It still hurt like yesterday. 

     There were nights she woke up, gasping, an invisible seatbelt strapped to her chest. In the dreams, she took her mother's place, bleeding out slowly in the passenger seat before the paramedics arrived. She always woke up in the moment of her last breath, but it still felt like dying. 

      It was even worse on the mornings when she woke up and simply forgot everyone was dead. She would lay in bed, eyes closed. She believed Mom would call her name any second, telling her she'd overslept.

     "Wake up, Muse," she would say. "You have school. Your brother's already ready. How is it that Liam is younger than you and still manages to be more on time? Please don't tell me you snoozed your alarm again."

      But Mom's voice never came. So the devastating, sinking panic always set in.

      And when Muse opened her eyes, sunlight shone from her right, not her left. She reached for her nightstand, and it was by the foot of her bed, not the side. She went down for breakfast, and her aunt and uncle waited for her. No more Mom, no more Dad, no more baby brother. That was how she knew she wasn't dreaming. Because even if she died a thousand times in her dreams, it still wouldn't feel as wrong as reality did.

     Her phone chimed with a text. Ella.

     Muse giggled as she read it. Ella had written about how much she hated their eighth-grade biology teacher.

     A knock interrupted her, mid-typing. The laugh died from her throat.

    "Come in," she said.

     Uncle Darius tentatively opened the door. He stood in the frame, nearly skimming the top with his head. He looked a lot like her dad: dark brown skin, soft hazel eyes, a nose with a bump in the ridge, and short curly golden-brown hair. She'd inherited the hazel eyes and the golden-brown hair, but her skin was a lighter brown like her mom's had been, and her features were softer. 

     "Hi, Muse. Is this a good time?"

      Muse flipped her phone face-down on the bed. "Yeah, what is it?"

      "You know, your aunt Aria and I were talking, and we―well, we . . ."

      "Is this about her work trips the past few months? Are we moving to Ohio to be with her more?" Aunt Aria was one of the top surgeons in New York City, but she gave a lot of medical-related seminars in nearby states. Her past few trips had been to Ohio specifically, each lasting a few days―even a week―at a time.