She turns back to the guitar with renewed determination. Darian shows her the chord again and this time she gets it right. The sound that comes out isn’t pretty, but it’s a real chord.
“I did it!” She looks between us, thrilled. “Did you hear? I made music!”
“You did,” Darian confirms. “That’s your first G chord.”
“G for guitar,” she says, then laughs at her own joke.
He spends another thirty minutes with her, teaching her two more chords, showing her how to transition between them. She’s frustrated when her fingers won’t cooperate but doesn’t give up.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he finally says. “Your fingers need a break.”
“But I want to keep going.”
“That’s how you hurt yourself. Better to practice a little each day than too much at once.”
She sets the guitar down carefully, the way he showed her. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
He looks at me again. I should say no, that tomorrow is too soon, that we need to pace this. But Lily’s looking at me with hopeful eyes and Darian’s just waiting, patient as always.
“If he’s free,” I hear myself say.
“I’m free,” he says immediately.
She throws her arms around him before I can stop her. He freezes for just a second, surprised, then gently hugs her back, looking at me over her head. I nod, letting him know it’s okay.
“Thank you for teaching me,” she says, pulling back. “I’m going to be the best student ever.”
“I believe it,” he tells her.
She carefully puts her guitar back in its case and carries it to her room like it’s made of glass. Leaving us alone in the living room.
“Thank you,” I say. “She’s really excited.”
“She’s a natural. Picks things up quickly.”
“When she’s interested. When she’s not . . .” I shrug.
“Most kids are like that.” He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So tomorrow?”
“If you really don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” He pauses. “Actually, I was thinking. If you want, we could do something else too. All three of us. The park or lunch or something.”
It’s an invitation to more than guitar lessons. To actual time together, the three of us.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
He smiles. “That means yes. Lily told me.”
“She did?”
“While you were in the kitchen getting water. She said when you say you’ll think about it, you usually mean yes.”
“My daughter: the spy.”
“She also asked if I was your boyfriend.”
My face heats. “She mentioned that to me too.”
