Page 89 of Quake

When those baby blues find my eyes, he asks, “How could you have known that?”

I shake my head and shoot him a little eye roll before explaining. “Sometimes, the things you say sound like song lyrics. They don’t sound like the words of a thirty-two-year-old man, but I like them.And your voice sounds so melodious and smooth as if you’re singing every word without actually doing so.”

His dark brows crinkle. “I’ve never noticed.”

“I don’t think you would. It isyourvoice. You’ve lived with it your whole life.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, bending to scratch Pickles and Tiny from under the table.

The live band has been setting up behind us, and it looks like they’re finally ready to play.

“Hey, everyone, thanks for coming out today. I’m Jack Shadow, and we’re The Ghosties.”

They start off with a remix of some of my favorite nineties and early two-thousands punk-rock songs.

I stare at Gianni as he watches the band play, unknowingly bobbing his head and tapping his foot just the smallest bit. The waiter delivers our food, drawing his attention back to me.

“Why don’t you do something like that? You love music, and it would be a good change of pace, I think. Besides, I bet your voice is incredible.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he says, shaking his head dismissively. “I play for myself more than anything else.” He brushes me off.

“Iwant to hear you sing and whatever else it is you like to do. You never told me—what instruments do you play?”

He finishes chewing and takes a sip of water before responding. “I play the guitar, piano, drums, harp, accordion, harmonica, clarinet, trumpet, French horn, violin, bass, and one year I went to Cuba to visit Alex’s family, and his uncle taught me how to play the guiroand the batá drums.”

A startled laugh nearly chokes me. “I probably should’ve asked what instrumentsdon’tyou play, good lord,” I tell him. “I tried to learn the violin in middle school, but I was so bad that the teacher had to call my dad and beg him to convince me to try just about anything else. That’s how I started playing soccer.”

His eyes widen. “How did I not know you play soccer?”

I laugh at that. “My fatherownsa soccer team. I figured that it went without saying. Besides, you know more about me after the last two months than my ex did after six years.”

He slides his hand across the table, taking mine and bringing it to his lips. He presses a tender kiss to the inside of my wrist, then my knuckles. “Yourexwasn’t worthy of any of your secrets, and neither am I. But I’ll work toward earning them every day, regardless.”

There he goes again, sending my heart fluttering in my chest.

I stare at our intertwined hands, and his words remind me that I never asked about his appointment yesterday. “How did your session go yesterday?”

His cheeks pinken, and it’s just about the cutest fucking thing. “It went really well, actually. Dr. Fasano and I discussed a homework assignment for this week that I think you’ll be interested in,” he tells me with a small smile.

“Do tell,” I say, leaning forward on my elbows.

“Well, he said for me to start playing music again, and if it feels right, to have you with me so I can start to associate it with making new, happy memories instead of thinking of it as something that just dredges up old memories of Alex and me.”

He was talking about me with his therapist?God, this man.

“I’d love that if you think it’s a good idea,” I tell him honestly.

“Maybe when we get home after lunch?”

“Sounds like the perfect day,” I answer.The perfect day with the perfect person.

Chapter fifty-one

Gianni

“You are just such a good boy, Tiny!” Lark tells the massive Great Dane, scratching affectionately behind his ears.

“You wanna head to bed when we get inside and callmea good boy?” I grin, my filter wearing thin around her.

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