Page 26 of Melody

What a relief that she felt the same way he had. Most of the people in the gallery had given them cold vibes and icy stares—but had stopped short of actually saying anything. “It was pretty uncomfortable. I kept wondering what they’d do if I farted or something.”

Scarlett burst out laughing. “I almost want to go back to try it!”

“Or what if I dropped an F bomb?”

“You might have killed one of them.”

“So I guess,” Kyle said, as the server dropped off their drinks with a smile, “our backgrounds are pretty similar. But correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Scarlett said, now feigning an accent. “After my debutante ball, I attended Yale. I was the most popular girl in my sorority and, until I graduated, I spent my summers in the Hamptons. And have you seen my Mercedes?”

“Bet it’s not as good as my Rolls-Royce.”

“I’m tapping out. Clearly, you are the more elite between the two of us.”

“Barely. Your high-rise apartment puts my place to shame.”

Scarlett picked up her glass. “If my apartment beats yours, then I feel bad for you.”

“I’ve never seen any of the above-business apartments on Main in Silver City, but we used to live in some pretty shitty places in Charlotte. Now, though, me and two of my friends in the band rent a two-story house. It’s pretty nice.”

“I bet. Do you have to do yard work?”

“Yeah. But we take turns.”

“That’s good.” Her eyes drifted to the base of her glass. “It helps when everybody pitches in.”

Kyle nodded, pinching off a piece of bread. “I wasn’t always a good roommate.” His thoughts drifted back to Hayley—all the arguments and nasty words, how he’d taken out much of his grief, insecurity, and frustration on her. He’d since apologized and they were now friends, but he knew it would probably take a lifetime for him to make it up to her.

And, as his therapist reminded him all the time, he couldn’t change the past. He could only do something in the present.

“But I do my best to be a good roommate now. And Pedro and Adrian make it easy.”

Finally, she met his eyes again. “That definitely helps.” After a second, she said, “So tell me about your job.”

“At Burger King?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s really nothing to tell.” Except he thought of a string of funny stories and kept her entertained until the food arrived. She laughed at his jokes and, something he didn’t notice until later, managed to deflect the conversation off herself.

As they ate dinner, she remained an enigma—but that made him all the more intrigued.

“This is so good,” she said, biting into her ravioli. “I don’t think I’ve had it since my dad died.”

That had to be the first thing she’d ever said about herself that was truly personal—and Kyle was nervous about saying the wrong thing, something that might send her back into hiding.

But he had to saysomething. “Sorry to hear you lost your dad.”

“It was hard—but not as hard as losing my mom.”

Jesus. Even though Kyle’s relationship with his mother was strained, he couldn’t imagine losing her entirely. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, it’s okay. I was thirteen when my dad died but my mom passed away when I was nineteen. That was tough.”

“I bet.”

She cut into a ravioli with her fork, her eyes focused on her plate. “I cared for her as much as I could during those last days, but the chemo seemed worse than the cancer.”

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