“PLAYTHEGOOD-NIGHTsong for me, Daddy, pleeeaase?” He agreed, but before he started, she held up two fingers. “Two times, Daddy, okay?”
“I just got home from work, honey. I only have time for one song.” She pouted, but took the song only one time.
It would’ve taken him five minutes to play it a second time. His shift had been long and grueling, and he was covering the early shift for a sick colleague the next day. He had wanted to get her to bed so he could eat and get some sleep. The agony of regret was a hole in his gut. Not to mention the irony of the fact that he never slept well anymore and routinely forgot to eat.
An image of Annika laughing in the car, followed by the pain on her face as she opened up to him, flashed through his mind. Without thought, he sat down on the bench, his fingers automatically finding the cool keys. He ran his fingers up and down the keyboard a few times, the keys all at once familiar and foreign. He had expected to find fear and anguish here, but instead he found that warm feeling of greeting a long-lost friend, a level of peace he hadn’t known for years. Without thought, he played out a soft lullaby.
Images of Annika were replaced by blue eyes, soft brown curls and sticky kisses. His heart ached, and a familiar burning built up behind his eyes and prickled at his nose. He inhaled deeply and willed the sensation away as he continued to play. He transitioned from the soft lullaby to a rowdier children’s song, to some of the first classical pieces he’d ever learned. The music seemed to flow from his fingers, and he became lost in the melodies and harmonies of the sounds he produced. He could almost hear her voice, but tonight he did not run from it as he usually did. That was new.
So involved was he that he didn’t notice Annika until her floral scent reached him and the warmth from her body radiated to him. She sat with her legs facing out and held a glass of watered-down bourbon in her good hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s a beautiful piece.” She looked at him, then at the keyboard. “You’ve been coming here for weeks, and you’ve never played before.”
Daniel shrugged. “You’ve never had a bourbon before.”
“Says you.” She grinned. “This was yours.” She sipped it, then met his eyes. “I drink yours every day.” She turned in the seat so she was now facing the keyboard.
“Do you, now?” The smile on his face showed exactly what he was feeling, but he was powerless to stop it. That was just what seemed to happen around Annika. He kept playing.
She nodded and finished the drink, reaching up to place the glass on the case of the piano. “I do. Haven’t you noticed that I started pouring you the good stuff?”
She had turned away from him to put down the glass, inadvertently tossing her loosened ponytail. Her soft locks threw off a light fruity scent he recalled from his time with her in the hospital. He had indeed noticed that she was pouring more expensive bourbon, but he hadn’t given it much thought.
He chuckled. “How’s the hand? Any pain?”
She placed her good hand on the keyboard and played a small melody by popular artist Ron Pope that spoke of longing and hope. “Feels fine.” Her voice became soft; she raised her injured hand. “Thank you, again, for not making me go to the ER.”
He shrugged. Stray curls escaped the loosened ponytail, making her even more beautiful. “I didn’t know you could play.”
“I’m better with both hands.” She darted her eyes away from him and cleared her throat. “What’s the tune you were playing? Seems familiar.”
“It’s a lullaby. I used to play it...” He opened his mouth to sayfor my daughter, but the words stuck to his tongue. “For my nephew. But he’s big now, and I don’t see him much.”
She furrowed her brow. “You talk to your sister every day—it seems like you’re close.”
He smirked at her. “I knew you were eavesdropping.”
A slight pink flush poked through her beautiful brown skin, and he momentarily forgot how to draw breath.
“Well, uh—yeah. Everyone knows that—you talk at the bar, and you don’t exactly whisper.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt but released it in one quick motion as she locked her gaze on his. “Her name is Emma, and it seems she worries about whether you eat or not.” She rolled her eyes. “Common knowledge.”
He laughed, but his heart thumped at the knowledge that she had paid such close attention to him, and he planted his gaze in hers. “We are close. I just—don’t see my nephew often.” He shrugged it off, better to close the topic. “It’s fine.” The scant space between them was charged with their not touching.
“I suspect it has something to do with this bourbon.” She tilted her head in the direction of the glass she had emptied. “We don’t have to talk about it, but it’s okay to not be fine.”
He couldn’t have looked away from her if his life depended on it. “We, um...well, we all have issues.” He happily drowned in her attention.
She grinned. “You do come here almost every day and pay for bourbon that you stare at.” Her voice dropped. “That is most certainly not normal.”
“Very true. I’m trouble, and you’re probably better off keeping your distance.” He said the words in a rough whisper with little to no conviction as he leaned ever so slightly closer to her.
“Is that so?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
Daniel decreased the distance between them, shifting his gaze to her mouth. Everything around them fell away, his only thought how her lips would feel on his. “I’m really sorry that chopper came when it did.”
“Me, too.” Her words were barely a whisper, almost as if she didn’t want to break this spell.
Daniel gently touched his lips to hers. When she didn’t pull back, he pressed his mouth to hers, his heart racing even faster when she pressed back. She opened her mouth to him, allowing him to deepen their kiss. He placed his hand on her jaw, his fingers on her neck, and pulled her closer to him. She tasted sweet and smoky like his bourbon, and she kissed him back, leaning her body into him.
