He almost chokes at that, but he manages a nod. It feels good to pick up an instrument again. It’s been too long.
“What do you call that song?” she asks. “The one you just played.”
He laughs nervously again. “It’s called ‘Made to Love You.’”
Stars above. Why did he choose that to play for her tonight? He should have played one of the drinking ditties he learned during his early days studying at the university. Not that he drank much more than ginger beer most days. But the songs were fun.
He rubs a sweaty palm on his trousers as he waits for her to say something.
Maybe he should start a new song. Then they won’t have to talk about it. He’s about to find a new chord when she speaks.
“Will you play it again?”
As Long As We're Awkward Together
Episode 36
ElowynwatchesRominy’shandsslide across the strings as her stomach does tiny little flips.
Why did he choose that song? “Made to Love You”? She shouldn’t read too much into it, but a warmth spreads deep within her, anyway.
She had no idea he was so skilled. It’s glorious. No one in her family plays any instruments. All she wants to do is sit and listen for as long as he’ll keep playing.
But the song ends again, and he clears his throat. “So...yeah. That’s a guitar.”
He lowers the beautiful instrument to its case, but she reaches out to stop him.
“Keep playing? Please?”
“Um...all right. Maybe something a little more upbeat?” He settles the guitar on his leg again, and his fingers fly along the strings in some sort of tune made to accompany laughter and carousing. She can’t help the grin that latches on to her face, and he smiles in return.
And then he starts singing. He has the most amazing voice.
Whistling wind. Is he really hers?
It’s the silliest song about a farmer and a talking donkey, and by the time he’s done, she’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe.
“Oh, shoot,” he mutters. One of the strings curls in two pieces around the guitar.
“Oh no! Did it break?”
“It’s fine. I have more. I’ll have to restring it tomorrow.” He sets the guitar back in its case and smiles up at her. “It felt good to play again.”
“I could listen to you play and sing for hours.”
“Careful. I might get a big head. Then my crown wouldn’t fit.”
She laughs at the ridiculousness of his statement.
“Queen Elowyn,” he says softly, and her amusement fades at the intensity of his gaze. “You’ll be my queen someday, won’t you?”
Is that just now occurring to him? She’s known for years this was her future.
Though knowing him here, now—hearing him call her his queen—means much more than it ever did before.
Not just a queen.
His queen.
