Her gaze sharpened, and she took a step back, returning the necessary space between us to keep me from being a big fraud. Just friends. Right. I could do this.Wecould do this.
She turned away from the railing, leading the way down the boardwalk toward the path where we’d entered the park. My heels tapped rhythmically against the wooden boards as I walked, a sharper sound than the thump of her boots. I liked the way they went together, like music.
I’d been thinking about music a lot since I got to Vermont, remembering the way it used to call to me. I liked the evenness of it, the rhythmic beats, counting bars and verses. It made sense in the math side of my brain. And right now, our shoes were making a perfect melody together.
As we made our way through the marketplace, crowded with locals and tourists enjoying their Friday evening, nerves began to tingle in my belly. I had enjoyed playing in the bar earlier this month, and I knew I would again tonight, but I wasn’t used to performing in public. It still made my palms sweat, even though I was looking forward to it.
“Hey, before we go in, do you mind if we find a quiet place to sit for a minute so I can do some vocal warm-ups?” I asked.
Taylor smiled at me. “Sure. I know a place.”
She led me down a little alley behind the bar where it was much quieter, then leaned back, propping one of her feet against the wall as she settled in to watch me warm up. Speaking of warming up, my cheeks were pretty hot beneath her appraising gaze. I closed my eyes and ran through a few scales to prepare my voice. My throat was dry, though. I’d need to ask for a glass of water at the bar before I sang.
“Okay,” I said when I’d finished, opening my eyes. “I’m ready.”
“You have a really pretty voice,” she said. “Do you still think about singing professionally?”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I don’t want anything more than what I’m doing here at V and V. Nothing about fame appeals to me, and I don’t think my voice isthatgood, anyway. It’s just something I enjoy as a hobby.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
We walked to the front of Vino and Veritas together, and Taylor opened the door for me. To our right was the bookstore, and the wine bar was to the left. As we entered the bar, I asked Taylor, “Have you ever shopped at the bookstore?”
She shook her head. “It’s usually closed by the time I get here. I’d like to, though.”
“Me too. I love supporting local bookstores. Maybe we can stop in together sometime.” My gaze fell on the stage, and another burst of nerves gripped my stomach.
Taylor grabbed my hand. “You got this, Phoebs.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her, warmed by what I saw in her eyes. I approached the counter to check in with Molly, the auburn-haired bartender who’d served me the first time I came in. She brought me a glass of water, and then I settled myself at the piano on the little stage in the corner. When I looked over my shoulder, Taylor was at the bar with a glass of her favorite cider in hand.
I returned my gaze to the piano and warmed up with a few simple bars, letting my fingers roam the keys the way my grandma had taught me. I didn’t realize what song I’d chosen until I looked up and saw Taylor’s eyes boring into mine.
I was playing our song.
* * *
Two hours later, I stood from the piano to a smattering of cheers and claps. It wasn’t overwhelming, but to me, it felt perfect. I wasn’t looking for fame. I was looking for fun, and tonight, I’d found it. I’d enjoyed every moment on that stage, especially the way Taylor watched me from the bar, like she couldn’t take her eyes off me.
In fact, it had been hard to keep my eyes off her too.
I made my way toward her now, pausing to talk to Molly on the way. By the time I made it to the bar, Taylor had a glass of white wine sitting next to her cider. She pushed it toward the empty stool beside her, gesturing for me to sit.
“Is that for me?” I asked.
She nodded. “Figured you’d be ready for a drink.”
“Thank you,” I told her. It was a little thing—buying me a drink—but little things added up to become big things, and my feelings for Taylor had been building since I arrived in Vermont. I lifted the glass and sipped, recognizing the chardonnay I’d had last time.
“You sounded good up there,” she said, sliding a glance at me.
“Thanks. It felt good. I really enjoy it.” I took another sip of wine. One of my favorite things about white wine was the contrast between the cool liquid as I swallowed with the warmth it created inside me.
“A lot has changed since we were here two weeks ago,” Taylor said.
I laughed, swirling the stem of my wineglass between my fingertips to watch the lights play through its golden depths. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It really does.”
