Beauty from Pain(46)
I try not to grin. “Hmm, I wonder who would have done that since all of the staff are still gone for the holidays.”
I unlock the door and grab the gift before she has time to investigate the name on the card. We go into the living room and I put it down on the coffee table. “Want to go ahead and take your bag to the bedroom?”
“Sure.”
I watch her disappear down the hall, and it makes me smile. She’s familiar with all of this—me, my house, the things I want to do to her. She hasn’t been shocked or apprehensive about anything so far. The others were uptight and stuffy, but Paige is different. She’s so much better.
She comes back into the living room and sits next to me on the couch. I pass her one of the glasses of wine I’ve poured. “Thank you.”
She lifts it to her mouth and then makes a guess at the type. “Merlot?”
“Very good, my young apprentice.”
She smiles, pleased with herself. “I have a great master.”
“Perhaps.” I take the wine from her hand and put our glasses aside. I lift the large gift from the coffee table and hand her the card. “I’m dying to see who this is from. Read the card to me.”
She smiles as she takes it. “Merry Christmas to Paige, from Lachlan.” Her smile fades when it registers. “You got me a gift?”
“I did.”
“When did you have time?”
“When isn’t important.” I place the box across her lap and I’m surprised by the joy I’m feeling. I’ve gone from one extreme to the other today. I was discontent when I woke this morning and thought about not being with her when she opened this, but now I’m antsy to see her reaction. “Open it.”
“But I don’t have a gift for you.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Open it already.”
She tears the paper slowly. I can tell she’s guarded, perhaps thinking of all the things the large box could contain. Of the things running through her mind, I don’t think this one she considers.
When she opens the box, she sees the case adorned with one word: Martin. She knows what’s inside. I can’t decipher what I see on her face. Is she not happy?
My other companions were ecstatic to get gifts. Of course, I usually give them something lavish, like jewelry. Maybe she was hoping for something along those lines. Should I have given her diamond earrings instead?
She swallows hard and pulls the brown case from the box. She places it across her lap and looks at me. She seems sad, and I don’t know why. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
She pushes the brass drawbolt latch up with her thumb and opens the top of the case. She stares quietly at the Martin D-45 she admired in the window of the music store before she grazes her fingers over it. I’m no closer to knowing what’s going through her mind. It’s frustrating and I begin to wonder if I’ve done something wrong. Perhaps it isn’t the right guitar.
I can stand it no longer. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”
She blinks several times and I see the tears in her eyes. Shit. That wasn’t what I was going for at all. “I’m thinking it’s beautiful but way too expensive and I can’t accept it.”
“Don’t think of how much it cost. I bought it for you because I want you to have it. You’re keeping it. Now, take it out and play something for me.”
She puts the case on the coffee table and removes the guitar. She slips the strap over her head and hesitates like she’s still thinking it over, but then strums it for the first time. And it’s over. I know there’ll be no more talk of not accepting my gift because she’s in love with it.
She begins strumming a song and nothing sounds familiar about it, but I like it. “What song is this?”
“Paperweight.” She strums a few more chords and then begins singing. “Been up all night, staring at you … wondering what’s on your mind. I’ve been this way with so many before but … this feels like the first time.”
Two lines in and I’m completely lost in her. Her voice is uninhibited and I love everything about her when she sings—her song choice, her voice, her facial expressions, but mostly the feeling I get. She’s special and destined for great things when the right person in the music industry discovers her.