“Yes, I do hope you’re enjoying yourdate,” Deacon looks me up and down with a glare that’s meant to make me feel about two inches tall.
I square my shoulders and make direct eye contact with him. “We are, thanks.”
“Just dinner tonight?” Mrs. Everett inquires politely, clearly used to this level of uncomfortable tension hanging thick in the air.
“Roman’s taking me to a concert after this.”
Deacon barks out a laugh, and my stomach drops. Sure, I don’t like Roman, but I can’t stand that this man’s clearly trying to be rude. I don’t know what the hell their history is, but it’s clear that Deacon’s a level A asshole, and I won’t be tolerating that right now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ROMAN
“Of course he is,” my father laughs. I hate that he can make me feel so small and inconsequential. I’m a grown man, I shouldn’t be bothered by shit like this. Gritting my teeth, I cross my arms. It tracks that he’s trying to make me feel insecure in front of Clover and my mother. Nothing quite like humiliation in front of someone else. Some things never change. “Roman and his silly little–”
“I’m actually really excited for it,” Clover cuts in. “I mentioned wanting to go to one, and he’s incredibly thoughtful.” Confusingly, she shuffles to stand right beside me. She never mentioned wanting to go to one. There just happened to be one tonight that I wanted to go to, and I figured I could turn it into one of our public “dates”. Winding her arm around my back, she gives me a light pinch on the side, and I open my arms and wrap one back around her. “You know what babe, I think we’re cutting it close, actually. Mind if we head out now? I don’t want to miss any of the music.”
Something warm expands in my chest. She’s bailing us out of here. She sees how uncomfortable I am, and she wants tomake it stop. I don’t know what to make of it, but I’ll take the opening.
“You’re right, let’s get moving. Deacon, Mom.” I toss a couple hundred-dollar bills on the table, and we make a beeline for the exit. I lead the way, gripping Clover’s hand tightly as we head back to the car. More paparazzi shout at us and flashes go off as we leave the restaurant.
When we’re back in the safety of the car, Clover whirls on me.
“Your dad is a piece of work.”
“Probably one of the milder things he’s been called,” I mutter, scrubbing my hand over my face.
“Why does he have it out for you?” There’s a scowl painted across her beautiful features, and I don’t know why, but my heart gives a quick little squeeze. Her deep red lips are pursed in annoyance.
I’m quiet for a minute as I let the weight of her question sink into me. “I don’t know,” I finally say. I’ve never understood why Deacon’s had it out for me the way he has. Why he’s been such a shitty father to us all. I’m surprised that Clover asked, and even more surprised at the way she stood up for me in there.
“Do you want to hit up a drive-thru on the way and head down early?” She asks. “Sorry I tanked dinner, I just… thought getting out of there would be best.” She looks down at her hands as she nervously plays with a silver ring on her pointer finger. There’s a crescent moon and star on it.
“Don’t apologize. Thank you for…” I struggle for the right word. “That.” I gesture toward the restaurant before pulling the car into reverse and driving away.
“Wow, when you said concert, I have to admit, this isn’t what I pictured,” Clover says as she scans the venue. We’re in an old ornate theater with carvings in the pillars and deep red velvet seats. The lights begin to dim as a small orchestra takes their place on the stage.
Her eyes widen when she sees the composer walk onto the stage, waving at the crowd as we all break into applause. Wearing a dark suit and his signature blue glasses, famed musician, film composer, and concert pianist Leonardo Eisoli steps forward to give a quick bow before taking his place at the grand piano center stage.
“Is that… Eisoli?” she breathes. “I used to study to his music all the time. I love him.” Clover turns to me and breaks into a breathtaking grin. The fact that she knows who he is and that she’s excited to be here makes something in my torso flutter.Butterflies? Are those fucking butterflies? Oh no.
I reach my hand out to hold Clover’s. “In case anyone’s watching,” I whisper. What she doesn’t need to know is that no one is.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CLOVER
I’m still pinching myself over the fact that I got to hear Leonardo Eisoli in concert for the last hour and a half. His melodies are dancing around in my head, and I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. A musically induced cloud of happiness. Even Roman’s in a better mood.
“That was nice,” I admit in the darkness of the car.
“Am I growing on you, Daly?”
I scoff, patting him on the arm where I can feel his hard muscles. “Don’t flatter yourself, champ.”
He laughs, and I need to bite down on the smile that’s threatening to come. I wish his laugh didn’t sound so deep and perfect and compelling.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my clutch. I’ve got a new email from my agent. Not wanting to miss one of those in case it’s important, I open it up.
