Page 33 of Key Change

The applause continued, and Cillian reveled in the buzz. Yeah. He loved it.

“Mr. Cillian Fraser.” Bevan clapped and Cillian took another stage bow. When he stood, his gaze landed on Anthony, still holding both beers, lips parted in an awestruck smile.

Cillian’s heart gave a little hiccup and threatened to fly away.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Anthony wantedto clap like everyone else, but he had a beer in each hand, so he stood there unable to do anything but stare at his… his… Cillian. Cillian bowed and grinned at applause, which was well deserved. It was clear to those listening that he’d followed the sheet music at first before turning the music into something much more elaborate on the fly. And while Cillian said this performance hadn’t been rehearsed, it was also clear there was a code between them about how it was to be done. He’d sat in enough meetings with a client, Rafe, and Liam, that with a look or a nod they could communicate everything.

Cillian made his way over and reclaimed his beer.

“That was amazing.”

He gave a small shrug as if it were nothing. “Thank you.”

“You can accept applause, but not a compliment?”

“Correct.” Cillian took another sip and moved in closer, almost encouraging Anthony to put his arm around him. Or maybe that’s what he wanted.

Anthony hesitated, overthinking it for several heartbeats, before placing a hand on Cillian’s hip, and Cillian leaned against Anthony’s chest. He’d guessed right.

Unable to resist, he kissed Cillian’s temple.

When Anthony was with him, he didn’t want their time to end. Nothing else mattered and all their problems were somewhere else. It was an illusion, of course, because everything was just a lie waiting to pounce the moment he stepped outside their current bubble. For the rest of the performance, he chased his thoughts instead of enjoying the music, the art, and the man in his arms.

“I’m going to say goodbye. Do you want to go somewhere after? Grab dessert? There’s a great little ice creamery around the corner which should still be open.”

“Sure.” Anthony released Cillian and edged toward the door to wait for him. Although there was a crowd of people around Bevan, whatever Cillian said was quick. Then he was cutting through the crowd, grabbing Anthony’s hand, and leading him back through the bar and out onto the street, where it was busy and noisy.

Cillian smiled at him, holding his hand, unaffected by those around them. The lights and laughter of the other people making their way to or from dinner or to their next destination was almost too much for Anthony to handle. He was accustomed to evenings punctuated by low murmurs, curses, snoring and coughing, and the dull hum of prison life. He was tempted to suggest that they go back to Cillian’s place, but that might seem like he only wanted one thing. Which he did. He definitely wanted Cillian naked before the end of the night.

“Got a favorite flavor?” Cillian pulled him toward the shopfront where the display of ice cream gleamed under lights. There were a few tables inside, and more on the sidewalk. His gaze flicked to the prices on the board, and he almost died.

Had ice cream gone up that much?

“It’s my treat,” Cillian said softly. Had he seen Anthony looking?

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer or your understanding of the situation, I do, but I don’t want to be mooching off you, either.”

“One ice cream, that I suggested, is not mooching.”

The woman behind the counter stopped in front of them. “What can I get you?”

Cillian lifted his eyebrows then launched into his order of two scoops, one of chocolate that was filled with three kinds of other chocolate, and the other a white chocolate and salted caramel. “Hun?”

It took a moment for him to realize that meant him. What did he like now? The only time he’d had ice cream before was if it was served with something else or in a cone at the beach. “Cappuccino.” That seemed safe. He liked coffee.

She waited for his second flavor. His gaze skipped over the range. “Lemon meringue.” He hadn’t had one of them since before. He should do something about that.

Cillian paid, and they walked along the sidewalk as if they were heading somewhere, and he was happy to follow. He licked the ice cream before it dripped onto the paper napkin wrapped around the cone. “Do you think it’s weird to mix the flavors? Would it be better to only get one?”

“The weird creation where they mix is part of the fun.” Cillian pointed at a small park. “I thought you might prefer sitting here instead of the busy café strip.”

A pocket park in the middle of the city. They sat on the bench watching people walk past. Behind them, a small fountain gurgled and once again they were removed from the world. A couple walked along the path past them and out onto the street, a small dog trotting at their feet. Yeah, they weren’t alone, but he liked being out of the bustle.

“I do… You keep making all these adjustments…” He didn’t want to be difficult.

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