Her voice is soothing, bringing a sense of peace and security with it.
“They’re spectacular,” I say to Sterling, unable to tear my eyes away from the lady with short white hair as she sings with grace and elegance.
“They are,” he agrees. “Angela’s retired from Broadway. She sings here Thursday through Saturday. And Vincent plays every night we open. He doesn’t like anyone else touching his piano.”
He leads me to a small table and pulls out the chair for me. I sit and smile as he takes the seat beside mine.
“This place is truly beautiful.” I gaze around.
“I’m glad you like it.”
A server appears and places two glasses down.
“Non-alcoholic,” Sterling assures as I glance at the matching tumblers of deep amber liquid.
“Thank you,” I breathe, shrugging his jacket from my shoulders. The fabric brushes my nipples, making them harden as I slide it off.
Sterling watches as my dress is uncovered and his eyes flash with something, before he pushes his thumb and finger into their sockets and rubs.
“Are you okay?” I ask in concern. “What you said before we came in, about parents and that pain, I… My mum and dad have said the same after losing Jenny. I can’t… I mean…”
He removes his thumb and finger from his eyes, and the way he looks at me has me reaching into his lap and gathering his hand up in mine.
“You can talk to me, is what I’m trying to say. If you want to that is?” I offer.
His gaze drops to my hand wrapped around his with a frown, and a vein in his temple pulses.
“Or not,” I offer with a small smile. “I’ll be your silent companion if you like? And we can just enjoy this beautiful music together.”
I squeeze his hand and let it go.
I look toward the stage and watch Angela and Vincent. The song they’re performing together carries me away to a place where no pain exists. To where there is only peace and calm. I breathe out slowly, lost in every word about love and heartache that passes her scarlet lips.
One song flows into another, and as Vincent plays the opening chords, something warm and a little rough slides over the back of my hand.
Sterling dusts his thumb over my knuckles, back and forth, caressing my skin like the notes of the beautiful melody that surrounds us.
“She was in love with someone else.”
The low confession is barely more than a hoarse exhale from his lips, like if he says it quietly enough, then it never really happened.
“Elaina?”
The depths of his pain swallows me whole as I turn to him, my breath suspended in my throat.
“Yes. Mywife.”
He exhales, and his entire body goes slack as he leans back in his chair.
My hand is now clasped inside his. I don’t know when it happened. When he became the one doing the holding, the protecting. But the way he’s keeping ahold of it is as if he needs it to tether himself to reality. As though holding me stops him from becoming lost to the anguish misting his eyes.
He looks toward the stage.
“I know she loved the kids. And she tried to love me. But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t him.”
My stomach knots.
“Who?”
