“What about you?” he asks. “Ever think of starting your own business? Maybe open up your own music school?”
I shake my head and look down. “No. I’ll teach for a while. That’s all. Besides, I don’t love teaching as much as someone should if they were to open up a business like that.”
“What do you love then? If you can’t play, there has to be something about music you love enough to pursue?”
“Creating. I was working on this new sound. I can hear it in my head and I know what it’s supposed to sound like. But, without being able to play, I can’t get the notes out.”
“Of course you can. There are computers and even keyboards with—”
“Not the same.” I stare him down to let him know the conversation is off-limits. I know there are other ways to create music. I just need to play in order to feel it. I can’t create if I can’t feel. He’ll never understand.
“Did you have any pets?” I ask.
“No. I always wanted a dog.”
“Why didn’t you ever get one?”
“Too poor as a kid. Too rich growing up. I guess there’s no happy medium.” The waiter comes to our table to clear away our plates. Asher asks for the check and pays it, leaving more than enough cash on the table. In fact, I think he just left a fifty-euro tip.
“You don’t have to impress me like that.”
His head looks up while he places his wallet in his back pocket. “Like what?”
I gesture to the tip on the table. “That’s a lot of money. Don’t leave it just because I’m here. I’m not into that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing would that be?”
“Money.”
He lets out appreciative laugh and shakes his head. “I know. You didn’t take the money.”
I look down at the cash on the table. Of course I didn’t take it. It’s right there.
“The money Devon offered you. You didn’t take it. I know,” he says, rising from his seat. He holds out a hand and I accept it, brushing off my startled expression on how Devon told him about the money he offered me when we were on the boat.
I glance up at the clock tower in the piazza. It’s eleven in the evening. Asher leads me through town. Leah was right. Italians like to eat late. Some of the shops are still open as well. We pass a few and I am reminded about the gift he gave me earlier.
“Thank you for the shoes,” I say, way too late for a proper thank-you.
He glances down at my navy blue shoes and his eyes skim slowly up my body, stopping for a moment at my bust and landing on my eyes.
“I noticed them earlier. Thank you for wearing them.”
I kick my toes up and show them off. “They’re my favorite. I was so upset when I lost my shoe the other day. I’m pretty upset at you for buying these. It was too much.”
His eyes soften as he smiles shyly. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I was a jerk yesterday.”
“I was a jerk first. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start buying you gifts.” I hit him on the shoulder playfully and am rewarded with his hand snaking around my waist again. I really like it there. “Do you always wear loafers? You were wearing them yesterday too. Do you ever wear sneakers?”
“Only to the gym.”
“What about flip-flops?”
“I’ve never worn a pair of flip-flops.”
“Never?”
He shakes his head. “My grandfather never allowed me. When I was ten I went to live with him. He had these strict rules about what he expected from me. Dress code was one of them. I was allowed to wear loafers and boat shoes. Sneakers were for working out. Even my slippers had to look like loafers.”
