Page 292 of Come Back to Me

“What?”

“Colt got one—where’s mine? I’m your muse!”

I scrunch my nose at him. “You can listen to yours later.”

“You made me an EP?!” His glee is boyish and delicious, andmy music did that.

“You have three,” I admit, laughing when he swoops in and kisses me in thanks.

But they’re his. I’ll never sell any of the tracks on there.

“Sing the notes again,” he orders.

Huffing, I trill them.

His eyes widen. “That’s the chord for “Burning Embers.” That’s my favorite!”

“‘Burning Embers’?” Nonna inquires. “Have we heard that one?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer, flushing. “I can play it later for you.”

“No, play it now.”

“Nonna,” I mutter.

“What harm is it to play in the background? Please,coniglio?”

“Tee?” Cody asks.

“Later. After dinner,” I promise.

Then, Daddy clears his throat. “I’d like to hear it, Christy.”

I bite my lip.

It isn’t that I don’t want him to hear it. He’s my dad. He’s a musician. He’d hear it and probably tell me how to make it better.

But I’m still stinging from our argument.

Stillhurting.

“Please, Tee,” he rasps.

I flick him a look, embarrassed and hopeful.

His is earnest. Wistful.

Cody squeezes the hand that’s digging into his thigh. At first, I was teasing him, but I’m glad I placed it there. I need all the comfort I can get.

I slip my hand into my purse, dig through the notepads and the collection of pens, and find my phone.

A few taps and the file opens.

I shield my expression as the first movement commences.

The sonata is sharp and bright and fast. Viciously so. It’s attraction and want and need, coalescing into one beam of desire.

It tells our story.

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