Page 35 of Voice to Raise
I leaned a little closer, even as we turned onto Pender. “I hated that class as well.”
He chuckled. “Glad to hear you’re not perfect. I had wondered.”
Asking him to explain that comment was on the tip of my tongue when we arrived at the house which, of course, doubled as an office. We’d had to obtain special bylaw permitting to allow this, and we had to make several upgrades, including a wheelchair ramp at the back of the building so we’d be accessible. I had no issues with that, but the renovations had cost money. Everything cost money.
Breathe.
“I should probably take my migraine-prevention pills.” Admitting that level of frailty hurt, but the weather forecaster had predicted rain this afternoon. One of the reasons I hadn’t biked to work.
“Great. I’ll give Bonnie her salad, then join you. If that’s all right.”
Our gazes met as we walked up the short flight of stairs. “Uh, yeah, that would be fine.”
Seriously? Did you just use the wordfine?Still, I put on a brave smile and walked into the main office area. I waved to Bonnie as I headed into my office. I didn’t like Malik knowing about my migraines—but he’d have likely sussed out the information eventually—but I didn’t exactly keep them a secret. I’d hoped leaving my high-powered, high-stress corporate jobwould’ve alleviated some of them. Except working in the not-for-profit sector had proved to be equally as stressful. Just in a different way.
That, and my triggers hadn’t changed—weather, strong chemical scents, certain foods, as well as about half-a-dozen other things. Including stress.
I popped two pills, then washed them down with some lukewarm water.Hope that staves off the worst of it.
Now…
What the fuck was I going to do about Malik Fucking Forestal?
Chapter Ten
Malik
Iwasn’t certain whether I should’ve brought up his migraines. Whether in relation to the storm clouds, or even at all. He was a grown man—nearly a decade and a half older than me—he could bloody well manage his headaches on his own.
Only, after watching Abrianna suffer for the first year I knew her—and then the year migraine-free after that—I didn’t want Spencer to be in any more pain than absolutely necessary. I didn’t know all his triggers, of course, but if Creed’s sister’s experiences were similar to Spencer’s, storms were a big part of them. Possibly everything else as well.
Well, except likely not hormones and periods. TMI, frankly, but Abri shared liberally. To prepare me for being a good boyfriend if I ever dated a woman who got migraines. Who knew all that prep would be used toward a guy with the same affliction?
He sat in his chair as I wandered in.
“Bonnie said she’d bring us a couple of glasses of water. I said I could do it, but—”
Even as I said the words, the efficient woman came in with two tall glasses of ice water. She put them on coasters on Spencer’s desk, gave me an extra-special smile, and then sauntered out of the office. Her “thanks for the salad,” was barely audible as she closed the door behind her.
I met Spencer’s gaze and blinked.
“She’s efficient. There’s no two ways about it. The nice woman who worked here before…wasn’t. But she was a holdover from Maude’s days. Oh, thank you.”
He smiled a little shyly as I handed him his wrapped sandwich.
“I convinced her to take early retirement. Bonnie was the first person I interviewed for the job. I saw six others that day but none came close to impressing me the way she did. She came from the not-for-profit sector and was looking to reorient herself after a bad breakup—with the charity she worked for. Things had, in her words,gone off the rails. She made it clear if our focus ever wavered, she’d jump ship.”
“Oh.” I dropped onto the sofa, pulled out my bowl and fork, and started to stir. “So, is that why you’re worried about me? That I might, I don’t know, upset your apple cart? Which is a weird expression, but my mother used it all the time.Behave, Malik. Don’t upset the apple cart, Malik. Wait until your father gets home, Malik.” I shivered. “That one was pretty effective—my father was…a difficult man. I never wanted to disappoint him.”
“Was he the reason you played violin?”
I scrunched my nose. “Yes and no.” I took a mouthful of food.
Spencer cocked his head.
I rushed to chew, and then swallow, my food. “We had a grand piano in the house. From a really early age, I’d sit at it and play tunes. I’d even make things up. Clearly, I had a gift neither parent did. But my father wanted more than just a piano prodigy. He considered that too…common. Even for a youngBlack boy. So, he hired the symphony conductor who took me through just about every instrument out there. For some reason, the violin fit. My father then found the most qualified instructor in the city to take over the tutelage.” I shrugged. “When it comes to musical instruments, I’m a quick study. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed the violin very much. Just…the opportunities to compose pieces didn’t come often, and they weren’t exciting. Truthfully, I just love rock music.”
“Well, thank you for explaining that.”
