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“He lives back home.”

“Four hours away?”

“Yes,” he said seriously, and actually meant it.

“Let’s get this proposal underway,” Rowan said, renewed, almost insane amounts of vigor and energy swamping him.

He now had a goal.

“And where’s the nearest store that sells Stanley cups?”

24

Milo

Okay, it was actually pretty hard to sleep through a symphony.

Go figure.

But there was something in the air that had calmed Milo as soon as they’d walked into the concert hall, making that manic but tired part of him take a chill pill and settle down to its usual level of frenzy.

“The power of classical music,” Ethel said sagely.

Milo didn’t know if he agreed, but he nodded along. Truthfully, he thought it was because his hoard was enjoying it so much. They were aflutter with excitement, discussing this and that fact about this and that composer or instrument.

Milo couldn’t help but feel happy when surrounded by a happy and thriving hoard. According to the book he’d half read one line of, this was common.

See, Rowan? I listened!

Thinking of him only made Milo feel like he was about to spiral again, or text something dumb, or worse, stage a break-in to his apartment so he would be forced to come home early by a police call…

Ahem.

Ray would probably disapprove.

He put Rowan out of his mind and tried to concentrate on the warm, earthy scent and feeling in the air as the show went on.

The music hall was old and fancy, the seats upholstered in red velvet, the fixings carved and golden in the usual style of these establishments.

Their seats were toward the front, near the stage on the left of the composers stand, and they’d been let in through the accessibility doors.

“Martha must be tearing her hair out right now,” Ethel had said with barely concealed glee as she read over her program booklet while they waited for the show to start. Occasionally the sounds of someone tuning an instrument behind the curtain could be heard.

Milo had rolled his eyes and nudged her. “Bingo brings out the worst in you.”

She’d rolled her booklet up and thwapped him on the nose with it. “Mind how you speak to your elders.”

Milo was left to grumble and sink lower in his seat while Ray laughed at him from his other side. Because of course Ray was invited when they had a spare ticket!

Once the show started, there was no more talking. Milo had to admit it was pretty good, the stylish elegance not Milo’s usual wheelhouse but bringing a sense of awe for those who had mastered their craft.

It was about three or four songs in that he spotted a recognizable figure.

He did a double take. Blinked. Then rubbed his eyes with both fists.

Rowan?!

“Shhh!” Ethel hushed him and he felt Ray’s gaze move to the side of his face in question.