“My friends in Kentucky used to tell me stories about Larry Norman when I worked at the radio station,” I admit. “We sang that song all the time.”
“Ohhh …” Understanding lights his eyes. “You worked in radio. That explains so much.”
“I was an intern at a classic rock station in high school. The deejays played in local Christian bands, and they loved the older stuff, so they got me into it too. And you know how I feel about my hair metal.” I grin.
“I do,” he says with a smirk.
“Let’s sing something together! What do you like, Aunt Judy?” I’m buzzing with energy and hope she doesn’t mind me calling her Aunt Judy.
“Oh, I’ll sing along to anything, but I want to hear you together. Have you heard of the Everly Brothers? Jude, do you remember the one I like? I think you two will sound lovely on that one. I have a good ear for these things, you know.”
She grins, moving to an electric keyboard where she plays a bit of the intro. Daniel gives me a sheepish smile, which is an adorable change from his usual confidence. He looks at me and says, “Do you know ‘All I Have To Do Is Dream’?”
Did she just call himJude? Is that a nickname? I feel like I’m missing something.
“I do,” I tell them, but I’m still hung up onJude. “It was my grandmother’s favorite. I’ll have to pull up the lyrics on my phone. I don’t remember all the words.”
“Oh, how fun! My mother used to sing this with me.” Aunt Judy beams, clasping her hands together. “Just sit close to JD and share the music. The words are printed there on the sheet music,” she directs us like she isn’t scheming at all. The sheet music just happens to be there?
She’s good. What are the odds that I’d know this song? It almost feels like a test.
Daniel turns around on the piano bench and grabs a guitar. Aunt Judy counts him in like a pro, and I give them a couple of bars before I find the harmony.
I love this song, and she’s right, we sound good because it’s light and sweet. This is some kind of parallel universe compared with what we sang earlier, but it’s making me feel just as breathless.
She wipes a tear as we finish, and I can’t help but agree with the sentiment. Daniel returns the guitar to the stand and sits back at the piano.
“I might as well play what you both want.”
He starts playing “Hey Jude,” and I don’t know how I’ll survive.
I’ve heard him sing along in the car countless times but hearing my favorite song pour out of him one hundred percent solo completely unravels me.
I can’t tear my eyes away, but I can’t sing it with him either.
Not this one.
Does she love this song as much as I do? It’s like Daniel’s theme song in my mind. Maybe she thinks so too.
My eyes follow his hands as they move over the keys, past the bracelets on his wrist, landing where they always do—on the inked band around his forearm that forms a cross on the underside.
He does part of “Hey Jude,” then switches to “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” which is lighter but no easier on my heart. I risk stealing a glance at his face, grateful he’s not looking at me.
His eyes are closed except for an occasional peek at the keys, so I allow myself a minute to really study him—his profile, the curve of his mouth as he sings, his long, messy brown hair with gold flecks—significantly shorter than it was last night.
I can’t see the green and brown swirl of his eyes, but I see thosetoo good to waste on a boyeyelashes nearly touching his cheeks.
His voice has a hum that resonates in my belly. I canfeelhim sing.
I feel it even when he speaks.
His arms and chestarebigger—thank you, Annie—for planting that seed of knowledge. Now I can’t unsee it. And that jawline looks more like a man than the “college guy” I met a year ago.
He’s been the perfect neighbor from day one, carrying boxes and unloading my books, but he’s so much more now. Maybe the best friend I’ve ever had.
He’s a constant in my life, at least for now. He knows what I need before I know it myself.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
