“Do you want to go to the bar?” I repeat gently. “You can call again later. Maybe he’ll be calmer.”
I don’t want Micah to call again.
I want to take Micah’s phone and smash it against the hard brick of the restaurant wall.
But I vowed never to scare my partners the way my father did. I am not that kind of man.
Micah hesitates, but then he nods. “Okay,” he whispers, pulling away from me.
I lead Micah to my car, opening the door for him and waiting for him to be seated before closing it. I hurry to the driver’s side so I can start the car and drive before Micah changes his mind.
“You can set the music to whatever you like,” I say as I pull out into traffic. “I mostly listen to classical, but I’m always open to new music.”
He shakes his head. “No, classical is fine. It’s what I listen to to relax.” I glance at him, but he’s looking out the window, and I can’t see his face. “There was a cellist tonight. She was really good.”
“Yes? Not as good as you, I assume,” I say with a small smile.
He lets out a quiet sound that I can’t make sense of. “I’m not good. I sound like… like cats in heat.”
That makes me frown. “What? Why would you think that? Your playing was beautiful.” I take a deep breath. “Your music truly moved me.”
“I’m glad,” Micah whispers. “I really am.”
“Now, if you heard my sister when she was young and practicing the violin,” I say with a small laugh. “It was not ‘cats in heat.’ It was an elephant seal being butchered, I think.”
“That’s… graphic,” Micah says with a shudder.
“I’m joking,” I say quickly. I reach out to pat his thigh. “She practiced and became good enough to enter competitions.” I pause. “Have you entered competitions?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not good enough for that,” he replies, looking down at my hand.
He doesn’t push it away.
“You’re plenty good,” I answer with a soft smile. “You don’t need to start with a big competition. There are amateur ones. I can pay for your entry fees, if you’re interested.”
His gaze snaps up to me, and his eyes widen. “What? No. No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
He’s even more tense than before, his voice going harder.
It reminds me of somebody else, in a different situation, but I push the slight unease I feel aside. Micah is hurting now. There is no room for me to get pulled under by bad memories long gone.
If we weren’t in the car, if I wasn’t driving, I would pull him into my arms to reassure him again. I squeeze his thigh. “Do you want to? Tell me the truth.”
Micah licks his lips, and he hesitates for several long seconds. I’m beginning to think he isn’t going to answer at all when I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. “No,” he whispers.
“All right.” I’m disappointed, but I also understand wanting to have hobbies that have nothing to do with work. It’swhy I’d started my aquariums. The aquariums are completely disconnected from the violence and scheming I’m always surrounded by—even if I ended up setting one up at my work office, too. The fish bring tranquility where none should exist.
It isn’t until we reach the bar that he speaks up again. “I shouldn’t do this,” he says softly. “It’s a bad idea. Adam… He’s not going to be happy about any of this.”
I glance at Micah. “Don’t worry about Adam. He broke up with you. Doyouwant to be here?”
Micah lets out a choked sound, one that might be a laugh—or a sob. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I want to be here. I think. I mean, I do.”
I get out of the car and cross over to the passenger side door to open it for him before he gets cold feet. I offer him an encouraging smile, and he slowly gets out.
I lead him into the bar. My arm hovers close to his back, itching to touch him again. Would it be too much if I wrapped my arm around him? Would it scare him to the point where he’ll insist on leaving?
The place is crowded, though, and somebody bumps into us. I grab Micah to prevent him from stumbling too far.
