“I’m visiting for the summer,” Michelle answered smoothly. “Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Thanks.” April’s tone stayed clipped. Her gaze flicked between us. “So this”—she gestured at the three of us—“is serious?”
Michelle offered a small, genuine smile. “Scott and I are… new.”
“Not too new to be holding hands with my son on the Boardwalk,” April said, then exhaled, catching herself. “Maybe you could’ve warned me, Scott.”
“Like you warned me about the engagement?”
Michelle nudged me before stepping in. “I’ve only met Mitchell a couple of times, but he’s the sweetest little boy. You must be an amazing mother.”
The line landed perfectly. April’s shoulders eased. “He is pretty great, isn’t he?” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
I took MGM back and slipped an arm around Michelle’s waist. “Glad we got that out of the way. We’re gonna keep walking now.”
Michelle waved politely. April lifted her hand in return—almost civil.
Out of earshot, Michelle turned to me. “You know she still likes you, right?”
“April? No. She hates my guts.”
“No,” Michelle said. “If I had to guess, she still loves you.”
“You’re wrong.” I shook my head. “We were never in love.”
“Maybe you weren’t,” she said. “But April was. Still is.”
I kicked the thought around as we walked. Then Michelle stopped short and pointed. “I want to go to the music store.”
We ducked inside. Dusty sunlight cut across crooked guitar stacks and amps. MGM made a beeline for a lonely uprightpiano and started hammering the keys. The clerk shot me a look. I gave an apologetic grin.
But Michelle didn’t flinch. She slid onto the bench, lifted MGM beside her, and caught his tiny hand in hers. Softly, she guided one finger to a key. Then another. Together they coaxed out something almost like a tune.
MGM beamed for thirty seconds before deciding the guitar wall needed climbing. I followed.
Michelle stayed.
Her hands drifted over the keys, tentative at first, then sure. A cascade of sound pouring out. It was effortless. Graceful. Alive.
I leaned against a row of amps, stunned, a toddler squirming in my arms. I knew she was talented—Juilliard didn’t take just anyone—but this was something else. Raw beauty. How had someone with a gift like that convinced herself to walk away?
When the last notes faded, the handful of customers and the clerk broke into applause.
I clapped as I walked over. “I had no idea.”
“I haven’t played once all summer.”
“Why? You’re incredible.”
“I just… don’t like playing anymore.”
Her mother had done her dirty. How do you take something that lights your kid up and turn it into something she fears?
“And the world is worse for it,” I said.
Michelle’s eyes lifted to mine—something unguarded flickering there. “Ready?”
I wanted to keep her in that moment, freer than I’d ever seen her. But MGM had other plans, wriggling free and forcing us into a full sprint after him.
