Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(58)

When we pulled in to Concord, I was momentarily disoriented by the lack of ocean. It reminded me that I needed to get off the Cape a little more. Bo drove me through town, giving me a drive-through tour of his birthplace. He pointed out his favorite restaurants, his high school, and we passed DROP’s main office.

“Nice spot,” I commented, “You can really do a lot with that location. What are some of your long-term hopes for the community centers?” We were in Concord for business, after all.

“Ideally I’d like to equip any and all centers we operate with a studio and, of course, instruments to use in those studios.” A hopeful smile spread across his lips.

“That’s an amazing idea! Music therapy is huge. I’ve never even been to a recording studio before, but imagine being a kid from desperate circumstances and being able to hear your instrument and your voice played back in your ear? Great idea, Bo! Technically, it would be Monica’s department to help you on the ground level with that project - but, quite frankly, I call shotgun.” I nearly leapt out of my seat.

“You’d be awesome at it. But, wait a minute - you’ve never been inside a recording studio before?” His jaw unlocked for the first time since I brought up the blackmail.

“No. Why is that weird? Have you? Well, duh, obviously you have.” I blushed at my idiocy.

“Ha. Yes, you’re right and, I liked the experience so much that I built one inside my house.” He straightened his posture, illustrating his pride.

“You have a recording studio in your house? Figures. Now your new name will have to be Lord Hotness of the Guitar and All Things Awesome.” I laughed then stared out the window.

Several minutes after driving through the center of Concord, we turned onto what appeared to be a private road. We drove along this road for several more minutes, and I only saw two houses before we came upon an overbearing wrought iron gate at the end of the road. Without missing a beat, Bo threw his Audi in park, slid out of the car, and walked over to the gate. He pressed a few numbers on a keypad, and the gate slowly opened as he got back in.

“A gate? Really?” I wasn’t dancing with the hippies anymore.

“What?” He shrugged passively, “It’s not my gate - well I guess it is now but - it was my parents’ house, Ember. I can’t let it go.” He drove through the gate and proceeded slowly down the driveway.

“I’ve never known a reallive person who had a gated driveway, you’ll have to excuse me,” I laughed, “I spent most of my time on farms, communes, a yurt . . .” The look on his face caused me to break in to laughter, “What?!”

“A yurt?” He howled.

“You heard it here first, Baby.” I winked, “That was the last straw before I told my parents to cut the shit and let me be normal for high school. We lived in an apartment and everything - it was f*cking glorious.”

“That’s awesome your parents would do that for you, pause their lifestyle for four years so you could settle.”

“Yeah, they’re swell - shit! They were going to be coming back through Barnstable this weekend and I totally forgot to tell them I’d be here; I’ve got to text my mom.” I frantically dug for my cellphone.

Me: Hey-I’m in Concord for the weekend with Bo-sorry for the short notice.

Mom: ?

Me: That’s not a response Mom: OK . . . yay! How’s that ;) Me: Be normal for once, would you?

Mom: We’ll call when we’re driving back up the coast to see where you’re at. If you’re still in NH maybe we’ll swing by.

Me: You’re impossible. Love you.

Mom: Have fun, Baby Girl.

A wistful grin crept across my face as I put my phone back in my bag. Suddenly, my cheeks felt the heat of Bo’s stare. I chanced a glance to my left and saw an unreadable expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“You really love them, huh?”

Oh, the look was melancholy.

“I do. Being their daughter has been an eye-rolling experience, for sure, but they’re great.” I didn’t want to elaborate too much in fear of opening barely healed wounds for him, or myself.

“Hey, do you have siblings? I never asked.” Bo got out of the car.

“Nope, just me, and whatever children were living in whichever agricultural community we lived in.” I smiled as I got out.

“Why don’t you ever let me open the door for you?” He asked, creasing his eyebrows.

“Ha, are you serious? Um, well, for starters, my arms aren’t broken.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice if I tried.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bo huffed as he put his arms around my waist.

“Anything you want.” I smiled, “But, could we get our stuff in your house first?”

We carried our bags to the grand front door; the house was absolutely gorgeous. To anyone outside of New England, the house might look ominous; it was clearly at least one hundred years old. It was white with black shutters - standard New England fare. A spacious widow’s watch with a stained glass window on one side, and a regular window on the other, topped the house. I made a mental note to check the view from up there later. Bo produced a key from his pocket and opened the door.

The inside of the house was anything but antique; there had clearly been a massive remodel at some point. A large granite-floored foyer greeted us, with a grand, double-banister staircase just to the right. The foyer’s ceiling was two-stories, and a window at the top poured delicious light.