He nods. “I get it.”
I quirk a brow at him. “Oh, really? Mr. HollywoodStuntman?”
He chuckles. “I’m in the Hollywood scene—well, I’ve been out of it for a little while now, but I like my position. I’m not in the limelight. I show up to set, jump a motorcycle or fall out of a building, and then head home. No pressure, you know? Hardly anyone knows my face.” He pauses a moment, lost in his own thoughts, then gives a little shake of his head. “Anyway. I get it.”
How interesting. “I get that,” I say. “So I don’t completely hate being here. But it was better at home in Silver Lake City, where I had my grand piano. I was lonely, but at least I had the piano. And now…”
My voice trails off as I try to control my reaction. I inhale deeply and turn my face away from him. All my emotions are bubbling up to the surface, and tears fill my eyes with just that small reminder of the gaping hole in my life.
“You miss it that much?” he asks.
I look back at him and just nod. He studies me for a minute, then says, “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
“Oh, yeah?” A laugh erupts from my lips. “I highly doubt you can do anything. Agatha says the tower can’t bear the weight of an actual piano.”
“Agatha also didn’t think anyone could climb into this tower, but here we are.” He gives a wink, and I tell the butterflies in my stomach to calm down.
Not only is he giving me fluttery feelings, but he’s giving me hope. And deep down, I really want to believe him.
CHAPTER 13
Ryder
FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN — NOCTURNE NO. 2 IN D-FLAT MAJOR, OP. 27
Ithink for a moment about the question Lily just asked me, picking up a purple bead from the array and slipping it onto the bracelet I’m making. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” I reply.
“Oh, I saw the movie for that one!” Lily exclaims, looking up from her bracelet. “I loved it! The one with Jim Caviezel and?—”
“No,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “Not that one. Never that one.”
Her eyes widen comically, and she breaks into a grin. It’s two in the morning, and we’ve been talking for an hour and a half while making friendship bracelets for each other, but her energy hasn’t waned at all. “Whyever not?”
“They deviated so much from the original storyline. The love story with Mercedes, and don’t get me started on the son! It’s a mess.”
Lily touches her hand to her chest. “But it’s so romantic!”
“Exactly!” I raise my hands in exasperation. “The Count of Monte Cristois not a love story. It’s a revenge story.”
“It’s got that, too,” Lily insists, but the teasing glint in hereye tells me she knows this is all in good fun. “I think you need to give it another try.”
I don’t want to. I watched it a few years back and complained the entire time. But something about Lily’s wide eyes and hopeful gaze makes me say, “Okay. Just for you.”
She slides another black bead onto the bracelet. “That’s it. Next time you visit, we’ll do a movie night.” Her expression falters, and her eyes dart up to mine as her cheeks flush with pink. “I mean, if you come visit again…”
“It’s a plan,” I say with a disarming smile, and she grins back. I grab another purple bead. “But when do I get to introduce you to my favorite things?”
“Like what?”
“Like reading the book version ofThe Count of Monte Cristo.”
Lily groans and rolls her eyes.
“What?” I ask. “Do you hate reading?”
“No. I actually love reading, but I stick to romance.”
“Oh, really?” I ask. “What’s your favorite book?”
