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I realize that in my desire for him to say those magic words back, I had not allowed myself to see the bigger picture. Sebastian does truly care about me. He shows it in the way he touches me. Oh how loving and tender he has been. The intoxicating kisses, and the slow and decadent way he makes love to me. Sebastian truly cares deeply about me. For now, that is going to have to be enough.
I get up from the bed and begin to move toward the door. A light by the side of the dresser catches my eye. A little curious; I move toward it. It's a portrait photo, glistening with shiny gold on the crafted wood that encases it. It's a picture of a beautiful blonde woman, a spitting image of Callie.
I gasp because it looks like I am staring at an older version of Callie. I can tell that this is Charlotte, the woman who, in death, still has Sebastian in a chokehold. Her eyes are a beautiful light green and her smile is wide and genuine. She looks perfect. She looks like the kind of woman a magazine would pay big bucks to have on the cover. I see now why Sebastian has continued to pine after her. My heart breaks a little at the notion that I might never get to be loved so deeply and fiercely by this man.
I put the portrait back into the dresser and start sliding it shut. But before I shut it, something else catches my eye. A check addressed to Mr. Beatles. I am a little confused because I know that tuition is never paid directly to the principal. I take the check out and look at it. The amount written on it causes my jaw to drop. I blink several times and wonder what deal they have for Sebastian to dish out this sort of cash to Mr. Beatles.
Did he bribe Mr. Beatles to pass Callie?
That does not sound plausible in the least. Callie is easily one of the top students I’ve ever taught at her level. She aced all her assignments and tests. Sebastian did not need to bribe. So, why had he given Mr. Beatles money?
Throughout the day, I find myself bothered and distracted by the check. The question gnaws at me. The memory of Mr. Beatle's strange termination letter bothers me, until it finally clicks. Even though my hands shake as I arrive at the craziest conclusion, my head remembers everything. There’s no way this isn’t true. Mr. Beatles fired me without any notice. I found it odd as Mr. Beatles offered no explanation. The theories were all made up in my head.
As soon as I end the lesson for the day with Callie, I rush again to the master bedroom and grab the check. I compare the date on it to the date I'd been fired. Sebastian had written the check the day before I had been fired. It tallied a little too much to be coincidental. Even though I find myself believing the theory I have made up in my head, I still find it crazy.
Had Sebastian wanted me to nanny Callie so badly that he was willing to ruin my career for it?
My head feels like it has grown three sizes. I fear that if I get up, I will fall over immediately. However, when I am finally able to get up without feeling a little dizzy, I spend the rest of the day lying on my back and counting sheep.
I know when Sebastian returns because the guest room is not far from where he is. I get up quickly and go into the hallway. I knock tentatively on his door as if I had not already snuck in the past few nights.
Sebastian pushes the door open and stares at me in surprise.
“You knocked?”
“Yes, I did. It's not my home after all.”
Sebastian's eyes shoot up at my reply. He steps back for me to enter.
I step into the dimly lit room, noting that he has gotten rid of his suit and shirt. He's shirtless and his belt buckle is undone. Sebastian looks like he's casually preparing to be prepped for a magazine issue or something. Admiring Sebastian's Zeus-like body isn't why I am here.
“Is everything alright?” Sebastian questions.
“I'm afraid not,” I tell him.
He moves to sit at the edge of his bed and this time I don't follow.
“Tell me.”
I swallow.
“I discovered something this afternoon and it has been bothering me ever since.”
I move close enough to him to make eye contact but keep an appropriate distance between us.
“What did you do?”
“I discovered that my wrongful termination from Dalton Elementary School was orchestrated by someone,” I tell him without looking away from him.
Sebastian stares right back at me without blinking.
“Did you bribe Mr. Beatles into firing me?”
“I paid him to let you go because I had a better offer for you.”
At Sebastian's admittance, something wraps itself around my heart and squeezes it until I forget how to breathe.
“You did what? You ruined my career?” I ask shakily.
