I know if I tell her the truth, she won’t look at me like that again, so instead of telling her everything, I keep quiet as I continue to play her a song that I wrote after I lost my fiancée four years ago.
ChapterTwenty
Olivia
Rhett’sbeautiful melody is interrupted by the timer on his phone. The brownies are ready. A wave of disappointment washes over me. I didn’t expect to be upset about an interruption that leads to delicious dessert, but here I am, feeling mopey we have to go eat brownies right now.
He rises from his chair and reaches out a shaky hand to me. As I zero in on his face, I think I see tears prick in his eyes, but he tilts his hat down subtly before leading me back to the kitchen.
Pulling two bowls from the cabinet and a knife from the drawer, he hands them to me. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
“Are you sure? I might just cut you a crumb and give myself the rest.”
He rolls his eyes. “No, you won’t. Just don’t give me too big of a piece.”
I glare at him. I have yet to see what’s underneath that t-shirt, but it fits his form well enough to suggest I would very much like what’s underneath. “Rhett, shut up! You could eat all of the brownies and the whole pint of ice cream and still have the body of a god. I’ll give you however much I please.” I cut him a slightly bigger piece than mine just to prove a point and slip it into his bowl.
“Thanks.”
I give him a nod as I take my piece. Something has shifted between us in the last five minutes. Maybe it was the fact that he willingly played guitar for me, or the fact that he offered to play a song he created. It was beautiful and vulnerable. He didn’t sing with this song, and he didn’t give me any backstory, but watching him play that song made me want to weep. I could see the muscles in Rhett’s jaw working as he played, suggesting that maybe the song evoked some deep emotions in him.
Seeing that vulnerable side of him made me want to absolutely melt, and now the air feels charged with electricity as if lightning is about to strike.
Rhett silently scoops us each a ball of ice cream and places it on top of the gooey chocolate brownies.
“Do you want to sit outside again? It’s a nice evening.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
We each take a spot in one of his patio chairs, and Maverick lazily follows us outside, quickly settling down in the grass off the edge of the patio. We sit in silence for several minutes, enjoying the mix of still-warm brownies juxtaposed with the smooth, cool ice cream.
Something about that song makes me think there’s so much more to Rhett than I realized hanging below the surface. Feeling desperate to learn more about him, I cut through the silence. “You didn’t tell me the name of the last song you played.”
“It doesn’t have a name.”
“What’s it about?”
“There aren’t any words.” He quickly fills his mouth with a heaping spoonful of brownie and ice cream.
“But you must’ve had something that inspired the song, right?”
“I guess so.”
“What was it?”
“It was about the moment I finally gave up on ever having love in my life.”
Silence falls over us instantly. I don’t know what to say to that. I want to encourage him not to give up. I want to hold him and make everything better. I want to dosomethingto fix this, but I don’t know what to do or say.
Instead of pressing him further, I try a new strategy. Maybe if I stop holding back with him, he’ll stop holding back with me. “Can I tell you something personal?”
“Yeah, you can tell me anything.” He takes a bite of brownie, savoring it before furrowing his brow and adding, “But why?”
“I held back a bit after my panic attack, and I thought maybe it was time I tell you the full story.”
“Okay, what’s up?” He looks like one of the new dogs at the rescue, ready to bolt at any second.
“I mentioned my anxiety started to get worse during my freshman year of college. I think the peak was second semester. It was finals week, and I had this one class that I was struggling with. I realize now how ridiculous that sounds because I still had an A in the class, but I was on the cusp of a B, and the perfectionist in me was horrified. I was alwaysveryfocused on my grades, even before I started pursuing a career path in the Big Four. It was just an expectation, set by both meandmy parents, that I’d earn good grades and succeed.
