Page 22 of High Notes & Hail Marys

“Are we the only people here?” you ask.

“Maeve is over for the weekend so she and I canwork on some stuff, but she’ll be out of the way most of the time. It’s meant to be time off for her, too. Of course, Cal and Eric will be on the property. Again, they won’t bother us unless there’s an emergency. And tomorrow afternoon, my friends Merry and Ross will be up to hang out. I wanted them to meet you. I thought we could all do dinner?”

“Sounds great,” you say. “But where do youputall those people?”

“Well, there are eight bedrooms.” Sterling points upward, left and right. “The primary suite is on the far end, there, with his-and-her bedrooms connected by a small hall. Three other bedrooms on the other end of the second floor. There are two smaller ones down here, closer to the gardens, and there’s one bedroom in the pool house that can sleep two more people. Lots of privacy for everyone, honestly.”

You shake your head, impressed.

“Where can I put these?” you ask, hefting the bags in your hand.

“I’ll show you your room,” he says. “Can you get those upstairs? I could call for someone to help out?”

You just barely resist rolling your eyes. “Sterling, I bench, like, three times your body weight. I can handle some luggage. Lead the way.”

(Following the subtle sway of his hips up the stairs, you observe that he did not sayour room.)

Upstairs, at one end of a long hall, Sterling opens a door into what looks like a small sitting area. Ahead of you is a bathroom, and to either side, two large bedrooms. You’ve never seen a setup like it, and you tell Sterling so.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think it dates back to the time when husbands and wives didn’t share bedrooms, but maybe still wanted to be close? I don’t know, maybe the previous owners hated each other. But I always stay here,” he gestures to the left door, “and usually the other side is empty. I thought you would like it.”

You look at the two doors, which are separated by no more than ten feet. “That will work,” you say.

“I’ll let you get settled in,” he tells you. “Did you want to take a walk down to the Cliff Walk before dinner? It’s gorgeous to catch the sunset there.”

You tell him that sounds great, and he heads back downstairs, calling that you should come down and meet him when you are ready. You wish that you could turn your brain off and stop wondering if you did something wrong. Well, wronger than not reading the damn paperwork. You swing open the door to your bedroom.

It’s nice, but you guessed it would be. Itsdimensions are shaped by the gable above it, the ceiling arched and tall in the middle. The walls are painted the palest yellow, and the thick molding is present here, too. Either side of the door features built-in shelves from floor to ceiling, which are stacked with books, bowls of sea glass, and curios. Breezy gingham curtains blow in the breeze from the open windows, letting cool air into the room. The bed is big and soft, laid with a white coverlet and shams embroidered in blue scrolls. A low vase of showy, rambunctious asters is set on the side table. Everything looks thoughtfully-arranged. Inviting.

Hoisting your bags on the dresser, you wonder whether you should unpack them, and decide not to. You’re only staying for two nights; you have to fly back Sunday afternoon in preparation for practice Monday morning. You also know that you’ve packed things that maybe, at the time, made sense for your first weekend away with your new boyfriend. Things that you aren’t sure about any longer, and that you don’t want to look at right now.

You hold your stare in the mirror on the wall for a few moments too long. Back in Miami, leading up to this weekend, you had beenso excited.Sterling seemed like it, too. You guys talked about it nonstop; about how good it would be to spend time together. How much you were both looking forward to it. Why are you feeling like maybe thiswas a mistake? You hate the churning feeling in your gut, so you will yourself to push it away. You use the bathroom, which is spacious and elegant, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

The temptation to push open the door to Sterling’s room is strong, but you hold back. Free of your bags, the trip back downstairs is much lighter.

You find Sterling in the kitchen, sitting beside a short, striking woman with black hair twisted into a coil and skin the color of nutmeg. They are staring at the screen of a tablet, and the woman is ticking items off at what seems like the speed of light.

You clear your throat.

Sterling looks up in mild surprise. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Kai, this is Maeve Mukherjee, my incomparable PA. Maeve, this is Kai. But you probably knew that already.”

“I could pretend that I didn’t, if you like?” When Maeve smiles, it reaches her big, expressive dark eyes. Leaning over the counter, she extends her fingers. “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Kai.”

You shake her hand, dimly aware that Maeve doeseverythingfor Sterling. The woman runs his life, pretty much. Sterling mentions her in conversation constantly. It seems like Maeve is the center of the constellation of employees that work for Sterling and Sterling’s business—all roads leadthrough her. She’s a very important person in Sterling’s life. Furthermore, you know that it was Maeve who got you two in touch way back in May.

“I’m honored,” you say.

“Oh, stop.” Maeve stands gracefully. “We can go over these tomorrow, Ster. There’s no rush.”

“Please don’t let me interrupt,” you insist. “I’m sure that’s important, whatever it is.”

“It’s the final versions of my revised costume designs for the international leg of the tour,” Sterling explains. “Gotta keep things fresh.”

This part, you understand. NFA players wear uniforms, but there are many variations on the official jerseys and pants: Color Rush, throwbacks, home/away, and all kinds of alternates. Different towels and gloves for Veterans Day and Breast Cancer Awareness. A lot less spangles and skin showing than Sterling’s unis, but a similar thought process.

“Did you do, like, the same outfits in different colors?” you ask. “Or completely different costumes?”

“A little of both,” Maeve explains. “There are about thirty costumes that just need a final fitting, and then they’ll construct a few copies of each and add them into the tour wardrobe.”

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