THREE
THE SONG OF TWO CANDLES
ALEX
I carriedthe woven basket filled with candles through the backyard, already ten minutes late. Laura had asked me to get them earlier, but after everything with Sebastian upstairs, I had stalled in the hobby room for a few minutes, giving us both some space. Only once I heard that he had gone outside and made his way over to the old barn that Dany had renovated into a party room, did I head out, too.
Even with the glass door still closed, I could already hear the family. The second I stepped inside, the noise crashed over me. Laughter, overlapping conversations, and ‘80s music crackling from a radio all tried to grab my attention, but they blurred into the background when I heardhimagain.
Sebastian sat at the table farthest from the entrance, staring down at his phone in the black button-up he had put on. He hummed under his breath, so quietly that no one else seemed to notice. To me, it cut right through everything else.
I tried not to stare at him directly, forcing myself to take in the room instead. Flower garlands framed the wooden back wall and wrapped around a hundred photographs showing the Draper family’s evolution over the years. The pictures on the left were black-and-white—one was even just a painting thatwouldn’t win any awards—but the ones on the right were in color. In front of the wall, a table was set up with the buffet. Aligned with it, four long tables decorated with flower arrangements stood in the center of the room.
My feet carried me from guest to guest, offering candles from the basket. One by one, they chose theirs—some randomly, others carefully, as if they weren’t all the same. Laura had made them by hand and wrapped each one in transparent foil like a small gift.
The cellophane crackled against the woven willow. Yet I only had ears for Sebastian: the rustle of his clothes as he scratched his chin, the faint thud of his foot tapping against the floor, the deep breath he took, as if his lungs were a violin ensemble, and, finally, after a moment of hesitation, another unbothered hum leading the orchestra that was his body. When we spoke in the upstairs hallway ten minutes ago, I had trouble concentrating. Now it was the opposite. All I could focus on was him.This guy was pure music, and I couldn’t stop listening.
I could hear a million songs in my head that I wanted to write for his voice. The way he held a note and how it vibrated so warmly and purposefully couldn’t be a coincidence. He must have had some training, maybe in a school choir or at least from all the carefree humming.
As I made my way through the crowd, I had to actively force myself not to look at him constantly. People spoke to me, and I nodded and smiled, but I didn’t hear a word they said. It was as if I had hit my head and gone crazy. I wanted to walk over there, get to know him, ask if I could show him my songs, maybe even ask if he could imagine lending me his voice—and if that wouldn’t have been completely ridiculous, I might’ve done it.
His humming only stopped when Mila, his sister, smacked his shoulder, startling him so hard that he knocked his kneesinto the table, sending the flower decorations rattling as if an earthquake had hit.
“Good to know you’re still allergic to human contact,” Mila teased. She swung her leg over the bench and plopped down beside him. “When you arrived, you seemed happy, but I guess that was just an act.”
“If you say so,” he muttered.
“And there’s the charm I remember.”
I shouldn’t have listened in, using the bad side of my overly sensitive ears, but I couldn’t help it.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as Dad always says.”
Mila rolled her eyes and scooted a couple of inches away from him. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be over all of this after all these years.”
“At least we can agree on something.”
“You could’ve at least thanked me for paying for your flight and for not telling anyone you were coming, like you asked me to,” she grumbled, leaning her elbows on the table, her hands covering her mouth.
“And you could’ve told me Grandpa only had a cold instead of letting me think he was dying.”
“You wouldn’t have come if I’d been honest, and—I know it’s not mutual, but—I missed you, you idiot.”
“That’s… fair.” He swallowed, lowering his voice. “Thank you.”
Mila shook her head, a grin tugging at her mouth. “I love you too, Seb.” She chuckled and turned toward me, forcing me to shift my attention to Dorian, the grandfather they had just been talking about. I tapped his shoulder to get his attention.
“So? What do you think abouthim?” Mila asked Sebastian. If it wasn’t so far-fetched, I might’ve thought she meant me.
“Dad always wanted a son who’d do whatever he said. Looks like he finally got one.”
“That’swhat you think? Oh man, you’re way too bitter for your own good.”
“I admit he’s cute,” Sebastian added. “But didn’t you say you had a boyfriend, Mila?”
“Wow,” she scoffed.
“Come on. What am I supposed to think? He seems nice, sure, but I’ve barely talked to him.”
