Page 36 of Sounds Like Love

I closed my eyes. Played the chord. It sounded bright and bitter and wanting all at the same time. Something almost there—almostreal.Something that echoed in the empty expanse between my ribs, eating away the silence. “That.”

“I can only hearyou, bird.”

I blushed at the nickname. “Bird?”

“Like a songbird. You seem happiest when you’re playing music.”

“I … I guess I am.” And I realized that this was the first time since “If You Stayed” that I felt my heart racing like I was runningtowardsomething, not away from it. “Or, I used to be. I don’t know anymore. It’s all complicated.”

“Could you sing it for me, then?”he asked.“This feeling of yours?”

“Um—um, sure,” I replied, suddenly very much self-conscious about my voice. “Or I could just call you and play it?”

“I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No, it’s fine. Just … don’t judge me too harshly,” I pleaded, and set my fingers on the keys again. Closed my eyes. And hummed the dissonant chord. It felt silly, singing and playing it at the same time, but as I did—

A wisp of a melody took shape, like a statue out of clay.

At first, the warm feeling in the back of my head felt like someone looking over my shoulder, but slowly it migrated as he began to hum along with me, adding a musical hook to the chorus that I hadn’t thought of. With my eyes closed, it felt a little like it had when I was six, playing with Mom on this Steinway. My heart fluttered, and for a moment I thought when I reached up to hit a higher note, I’d bump my hand against his—

But of course, when I opened my eyes and looked, no one was there.

I cleared my throat, trying not to feel too disappointed that I was alone in the Revelry still. “So? What’s that feeling called?”

He was quiet for a long moment, and then he said, his voice rough and thick,“Something bitter and sweet, bird. Like a kiss goodbye.”

My stomach flipped in that terribly funny way stomachs did when you realized that you were on the kind of tightrope you might enjoy, with the possibility of a fall you very much would not. I didn’t need to be on that kind of tightrope. Not with a voice in my head. Especially not withSasha.

So I scooted my bench back quickly.

“Well, it seems playing together isn’t the way to get out of each other’s heads,” I said, closing the lid on the piano, and pushing myself to my feet. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’ve been thinking, and honestly … no. You?”

I grabbed my purse from the box office and took the keys out to lock up. “No,” I replied with a sigh. But it did occur to me that it would probably be a lot easier to figure out how to solve this if we were in the same room together.But that meant meeting him. Which meant …

Well, it meantmeeting him.

“And what if we did meet? What if we do?”he suggested.

I locked the front door of the Revelry behind me. The beach was so sweltering today, even the wind was humid.

“What if I came to y—”

“Joni?” a familiar voice interrupted us.

And in front of me, on the sidewalk, Van stood in a crisp white T-shirt and dark-wash jeans that should have been an absolutecrimeto walk around in, and supple leather boots. He had a grease-stained bag of doughnuts under one arm from the cake shop down the street.

A smile curled across his face. “Hey! Fancy seeing you around here. I thought the Rev was closed on Wednesdays?”

“It is,” I replied, stowing my keys in my purse and awkwardly pulling it high on my shoulder. “I was just … working. On stuff.”

God, could I be anymoretongue-tied?

“Are you talking with someone?”Sasha asked.

“Working even when you’re on vacation, huh,” Van said, nodding in commiseration. “I feel you. I got an email from my boss about an asset thing—it doesn’t matter. It’s just work. Boring stuff.”

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