Page 5 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
He seems new at playing the guitar. I know because there’s a slight pause every time he alternates between chords, but it doesn’t take away from his talent in the slightest.
I must stand there, watching him raise the bar for any of my future crushes way too high, for over two minutes. He hasn’t once looked up from his guitar, pouring all of his energy into getting the chords right.
Something in my chest aches when the song comes to an end. I should leave, but I’m rooted in place.
That’s when my phone chimes with a text.
Kane’s head snaps up, and he immediately spots me staring at him through the gap in the door. His eyes grow, but I don’t wait for him to call me out on my stalker behavior, turning to leave.
“Hads,” I hear him say.
But I’m already charging down the stairs.
* * *
I was really excited about the party.
Of course, that was before I found out I wasn’t allowed to invite Jamie, my friend from Hillford. Apparently, the cocktail party is “exclusive to Golden Cove residents.”
In other words, no normal people allowed.
I thought maybe Vince would show up and I’d have at least one person to talk to, but he ditched the party to hang out with Jamie’s brother, Callum.
Vince is Gray’s friend and the only person our age in the gated community. His parents bought a vacation house in Golden Cove when we were seven.
You best believe Gray, Kane, and I spotted him from miles away. We went up to him his first day here, excited to have a new friend to play with.
Vince introduced us to Callum and his sister, Jamie, the following week—his parents are friends with their dad—and we’ve all been inseparable ever since. Although I must say I’m much closer to Jamie than the guys.
I scan the backyard and fancy people drinking champagne. Evie said her husband wanted to throw the party to network and talk business, which makes no sense, considering Mr. Wilder doesn’t even work.
Kane’s dad was born into wealth, and Wilder Enterprises, the family company, has been passed on from generation to generation.
The business is currently run by Kane’s uncle, while Mr. Wilder does whatever the hell he wants, eating at the finest restaurants and living off the fortune his ancestors worked their entire lives for.
Like it wasn’t bad enough that he let his wife organize the entire party on her own, the staff he hired is useless.
Evie’s been killing herself, making sure that nobody runs out of champagne or appetizers since the party started. I spend the next hour waiting for dinner to be served and call it a night as soon as I’m done eating.
Maybe if Kane was here, I’d have a reason to stay, but he hasn’t come down once since the party started.
I wonder if he’s mad at me.
I didn’t mean to spy on him. It just happened. And if I’m being honest, I don’t regret it. I’d spy on him a thousand times if it meant I got to hear him sing again.
I reach the top of the stairs a few minutes later and make a beeline for my bedroom. I can’t help eyeing Kane’s closed door as I make my way down the hall.
I’m seconds away from opening my bedroom door when a deep voice cuts through the air.
“You worthless piece of shit. Get up!”
My body goes rigid.
“I knew I’d find you in here playing your little tunes.”
It’s coming from down the hall.
“I’m sorry, sir.”