sheets, I filled them. It took me less than seven hours to score a complete song. That might be a record for me, and I have you to thank.”
She narrows her brows. “Uh … you’re welcome?”
“That’s why I came back. I need all the inspiration I can get.”
Her expression flattens. “Liam, I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I know. You said as much last night. The amazing thing is—I knew that, and I wrote music anyway.” I chuckle, because the funny thing is, I don’t want to sleep with her. Not this girl. I don’t want her to know how truly twisted I am. “Some would say you’re my muse, Ella.”
Her eyes widen. “Your what?”
“My muse. My inspiration. And just so you know, once a musician finds his muse, that’s it.”
She pulls her bottom lip in, then releases it. “What do you mean, that’s it?”
“I don’t know. I’m just glad we met, that’s all.”
“All finished?” a nurse says, popping her head in.
Ella hands me back the sheet music. “Almost.”
“You’re free to get dressed. Someone will be by soon to wheel you out.”
“Wheel me?” Ella asks. “But I can walk.”
“It’s standard procedure. All patients leave in a wheelchair.” The nurse glances at me. “Is this your ride home?”
“Yes,” I say before Ella can answer.
“Good. I’m glad you have someone to look after you.”
Ella signs the last form, and the nurse gathers the papers and leaves.
“I can take the subway. My legs work perfectly fine.”
“Or I can give you a ride home in a cab. You don’t want to take the subway with a head injury. Who knows what can happen?”
She gets out of bed and picks up her clothes off the chair. “Fine. But you’re only dropping me off. You’re not coming in.”
I hold up my hands. “I’ll be a total gentleman.”
While she’s in the bathroom, I spy her phone on the tray table. I pick it up, surprised to find it unlocked, and call myself. When she returns, it’s back where it was.
“I can’t wait to get home and wash this glitter out of my hair,” she says.
“I kind of like it. It’s what made you stand out among the rest.”
“It makes me look like a streetwalker.”
“Maybe at eleven in the morning. But last night, it worked. You met me, didn’t you?”
“As if that was my intention.”
“What was your intention?”
She sits and rubs the side of her head. She’s obviously still in pain. “It was supposed to be a fun night out. A way for me to get my ex out of my head.”
“The ex. Right. What’s his name?”
“Dickhead. Rat Bastard. Cheating Cradle-robber—take your pick. He showed up last night after you left.”
My spine stiffens. “Is he stalking you?”
She shakes her head. “He was worried about me. Says he still loves me.”
“Are you thinking about getting back with him?”
“I don’t want to. What would keep him from cheating again? But I still love him. I’m embarrassed to admit I hid in my apartment for two weeks in hopes I wouldn’t run into him. He has a way of convincing me to do stuff I don’t really want to do.”
I ball my hands into fists and tighten my jaw. “What kinds of things?”
She sees my reaction. “It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s things like going to hockey games when I hate hockey, and taking cooking lessons when I’d rather be shoving bamboo shoots under my fingernails. He made his hobbies my hobbies. The only thing he got me into that I love is running.”
Her phone vibrates. She types a text.
“That’s not him, is it?”
“It’s Jenn. She wants to know if I need a ride.”
“You told her you’re good, right?”
“I did.”
A smile tugs at the edges of my mouth. “How come?”
“Because you’re here. You offered. Because I listened to more of your music this morning, and it would be a shame if you were unable to compose more often.” She glances at her phone. “My friends are mad at me for not getting a picture with you. They thought I should have at least asked for your autograph.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not a crazy fangirl, like they are. I don’t drool over famous people.”
I hold my chest. “Damn, Ella. Way to deflate a guy’s ego. I thought you’d say it was because you had a head injury.”
She smiles. “That, too.”
“What do you want me to sign?” I look around the room. “How about one of those balloons?”