Page 47 of Symphony of Salvation

The cocktail’s tangy zing hit my palate as I sipped again, scanning the room, analyzing and overanalyzing every detail about the bar and the invitation. The occupied tables seemed to consist of couples enjoying date nights. Was that how Niles and I would be viewed? Was it what he wanted?

I checked the time. Twenty after nine.

Spinning, spinning, spinning my phone, I debated calling or texting to see if something had come up. I should not have felt jaded over a business conference, but the longer I waited, the worse the sinking feeling in my gut.

I drained the last of the cocktail. The server appeared to see if I wanted another, and I was about to decline when Niles appeared, tugging out the chair next to me, cheeks flush and breathing elevated. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” To the server, he said, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

The woman retreated toward the bar as Niles shed his coat and draped it over the chairback. Wrenching the elastic free from his hair, he spoke. “Christ, my mother called, needing to havea discussionabout our family Christmas. She would not be put off, no matter what I said. When I finally got her off the phone, after agreeing to things I will surely regret, I knew I was going to belate, but I had no way to contact you. Forgive me. I came as fast as I could.”

He combed his fingers through the long, variegated strands, tugging them off his face and forming a knot at his nape before resecuring it with the band. The instant he finished, several shorter pieces fell from the tie, brushing his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice as he glanced at the ensemble on stage.

“Oh, I’ve seen this group before. The Django Dreamers. They’re good.”

Niles had paired dark-washed jeans with a sandstone-colored V-neck sweater and a white collared shirt underneath. The mixture of casual and chic worked for him. He had the unique air of an artist, something I’d never acquired. Something I envied.

The hue of the sweater complemented his coloring, taking the sunset qualities I’d originally noted and giving them an autumn flair.

The server arrived with our drinks, and Niles’s focus returned to the table. “Were you waiting long?”

“I was here at nine as agreed.”

“So you’re, what? One drink ahead of me?”

“I’m not getting intoxicated with you again.”

“Afraid you might be honest?” He quirked a brow.

Ignoring the quip, I sipped the new drink and tuned into the band, admiring the skill and style of the piano player, moving my fingers on the table as I picked out the notes and rhythm.

“Can you play by ear?” Niles asked, indicating my hands.

“Yes.” I made a conscious effort to stop fidgeting as Niles picked up his drink and sniffed. “It’s a cosmocello.”

“What’s in it?” He swished the swirl of lemon rind in the liquid.

“Think cosmopolitan but with limoncello instead of lime juice.”

He tried a sip and whistled. “That’s got zip.”

“It does. I usually have a dry martini, but the limoncello calls to my Italian roots. I haven’t had it in ages.”

Niles held his drink in anticipation of clinking glasses. “Cheers to one last week of school before the holiday.”

I glanced around the bar to see if eyes were on us. Only the server, but that was enough to still my hand. I didn’t raise my glass to join him in celebration, deferring to the conversation we were meant to have. “We have solos to discuss. You have a grading method you want to share. Please explain.”

Niles, far too analytical, followed my gaze to the bartender before correctly deducing my concern. Huffing and shaking his head in a manner I’d seen Constance do far too many times, he set his drink down and leaned back in his seat.

Masking his relaxed look with stiff cordiality, he said, “Might as well hop right to business. We wouldn’t want to enjoy ourselves, and god forbid someone misconstrue our meeting for something nefarious. Wouldn’t want that.”

“It’s… the setting is rather intimate. It doesn’t exactly exude the correct vibe.”

“Koa and I come here all the time. Whatvibeare you referring to?”

“Isn’t he your ex?”

“It’s funny how you pay attention to the important details. Yes, Koa’s my ex. We’re friends now and manage to come hereas friendswithout it being weird, or should I say, without usexuding a vibe.”

“I’m not saying—”

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