Page 24 of Ruled By Fate

She set the novel down with a bit too much force. “I’m always worried about him.”

He was quiet for a moment, passing her medical textbooks and the odd volume of poetry or music theory before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Sometimes, the most inspiring thing a person can see is someone they love taking charge of their life.” The two locked eyes. “Following your dream isn’t selfish, Brianna, especially when your dream is to help others on their darkest days. By lifting yourself up, you lift all whom you love.”

She stared in silence, unable to formulate a response, as he pushed to his feet and started stacking the shelf with her, alphabetizing as he went, correcting each book she placed out of order.

“Do you play the piano?” he asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

He held up a biography of Robert and Clara Schumann. “Rather niche reading for someone who doesn’t play.”

“I used to. My mom brought me to this great teacher when I was little, twice a week for years. I was actually getting pretty good.” She caught herself swiftly. “I haven’t played much lately.”

She took the book from his hands and placed it on the shelf. He threw her a quick glance, then took it out again and slipped it into the correct order.

“I would love to hear you play,” he said softly.

Her eyes flashed up, resting a moment on his face. Then her heart started thrumming, and she whipped out her phone again to fill the awkward silence. “Well, in the meantime, Siri, play some Schumann.”

He looked at her, puzzled.

“Playing, ‘Träumerei, Opus Fifteen Number Seven,’ by Robert Schumann.”

In a literal flash of light, the angel became rigid as a statue, eyes flickering to the windows and doors as if they might be under attack.

“Is there someone else in the house?” he asked accusingly as if she’d been hiding them all along. “Answer me softly, Brianna. We don’t know where they might have gone.”

She stared at the back of his head, baffled. “What?”

The lovely notes of the piano filled the air between them.

“Siri, could you turn that down?”

“Certainly, Sexy Beast.”

He jumped and whirled around with an almost cartoonishly threatening expression. His hair spiraled messily around him, littering the ground with petals, as his eyes lifted slowly to the ceiling.

There was a moment of silence, followed by some ancient oath. He whispered, “Keep still,” before directing a warning towards the ceiling at his unseen foe. “You cannot hide forever.”

She blinked, then looked at the device in her hand. “Wait, do you mean—”

“Who was that?” he demanded. “What’s happening?”

“It’s my smartphone… It follows basic commands.”

She waved it innocently between them as he stared warily back.

“You have enslaved it?” he asked stiffly. “It does your bidding?”

She let out a burst of laughter and lifted her hands. “Hang on there, Methuselah. I didn’t enslave anything. It’s a phone.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I think you should keep it outside.”

There was a beat.

“Outside,” she repeated flatly. “You want me to keep my phone—”

“It seems overly fond of you. I would feel more comfortable if it wasn’t in the house.”

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