“What’s really going on in that beautiful head of yours, MJ?”
Beautiful. When was the last time…
Yesterday, she thought. He’d called her beautiful yesterday and every other day since he’d come back. His compliments were genuine, frequent, and they deserved honesty in return.
For a long second, she stared down at her mug. Steam drifted between them.
She was tired of the secret, the fear, the guilt, the silent middle of the night panic when the opening notes woke her up. It was time.
She exhaled shakily. “All right. Thereissomething.”
He stayed still, patient, as he always was with her.
“I keep hearing music,” she said.
He notched one brow. “What kind of music?”
“A specific song,” she said, her throat tightening. “It was very meaningful to…George and me. We always sang it and he had it made into a music box when Gracie was born.”
He studied her, deep in thought. “Did the holidays bring this on?” he asked.
“If only it were that simple.”
He sipped his tea. “Go ahead,” he prompted after he swallowed and she hadn’t elaborated.
“It’s every night,” she continued, words tumbling out. “At exactly three a.m. I wake up to the melody playing. At first, I thought it was the music box. I tore my apartment apart trying to figure it out. But it wasn’t that—Gracie has the music box in her bedroom. So I…” She shook her head. “Matt, I don’t know how else to explain it.”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t scoff. He didn’t do anything except lean a little closer, like he understood how delicate this was for her.
“And you think it’s George,” he guessed.
The fact that he went right there nearly melted her. It was so beautifully intuitive and, somehow, kind. At least it struck her that way.
“I do,” she confessed. “I think he’s trying to tell me…”
“Not to forget him,” he finished. “By being with me.”
She just stared at him, because what could she add? That wasexactlywhat she thought.
“I’m scared, Matt,” she admitted, realizing it was the first time she’d said that out loud. She’d been annoyed, confused, concerned, frustrated, and worried.
But only now did she realize that the music scared her.
“I’m afraid that I’m hurting him or he knows something I don’t or that…this isn’t right. I don’t know,” she continued breathlessly. “I know that’s crazy, but…”
He shook his head. “Not crazy at all. When did it start?”
“The very night you came back.”
His brows lifted. “Never heard it before?”
“No. Not down here.” She thumbed in the direction of the Starling Room, the wedding space that a year ago had been her living quarters. “When construction started, I lived in one of the cabins for a while, but heard nothing. I moved into the upstairs owner’s apartment a few months ago, and never heard a thing. Then, the very night you got here, I was awakened at three a.m. by…music.”
“What song?”
“What a Wonderful World.”
His entire face softened. “No wonder you bolted from that house when we saw the poster.”
