Page 52 of The Sound in Silence

So he hasn’t returned to the city.

“Heard you skipped breakfast, and now it’s lunch. You must be hungry.”

Shrugging, I don’t turn around. Maybe I am, but eating doesn’t hold any appeal.

He crosses the room, his shoes making soft taps, which sound closer as he approaches. My breath aligns to each one, giving my mind a place to focus as he comes up behind me. Then his hand sweeps over my bare neck and I don’t know what to do. How to react.

It’s a gentle touch, but almost possessive too.

I’m torn between shutting my eyes and enjoying the sensation and pushing him away, protecting myself through this inevitable heartbreak.

“You play beautifully. The tune carries out of the room, and I’ll be honest, I remained in the hallway, listening for a few minutes before entering.”

Because he knew I’d stop playing once he entered. Deceptive…but sweet, I suppose.

No one’s heard me play before and I feel like he deserves to be told that. Why? Not sure. A final thank you for the gift? I reach for my phone, which is beside my now-empty mug and type on it.

You’re the first to ever hear me play piano.

He reads over my shoulder. “Besides Della?”

We didn’t have a piano when I lived with her or growing up. I taught myself in high school in the music classroom after school. Maybe the music teacher overheard, but that’s all.

“I’m honoured.” His touch sweeps where my hair and neck meet again. “Come eat, and then return.”

Since he’s not being an ass today, I’ll entertain his niceties. When I shut the piano’s lid, he backs away, giving me the space to stand. Turning, I see him for the first time today. He’s dressed more casually—casual for him at least. Slacks and his normal shiny shoes, a button-up shirt that’s rolled at the sleeves, portraying muscular arms that I think I’d enjoy around me. His hair isn’t as styled, like he rolled from bed and never bothered fixing it. It makes him look younger, more boyish…cuter.

I hold up my phone with a message I quickly type before I can stop myself:

You’re here.

He smirks. “As opposed to where?”

Your condo. Your work. Not here.

He glances away quickly, licking at his lips. Nerves? “Yeah, I…I think I’ll stay here for a while. Work from my office.”

My heart thumps erratically. While I can’t assume, I am, assuming the reason behind his ongoing presence. Me. Why he’s not taking off might be something he’ll never admit, and I shouldwanthim to go and leave me in peace, but this means something. Right?

He leads me from the room, but to the backyard instead of the dining room. The sun’s shining bright, reflecting over the pool and into my eyes, so I shield my face with my hand.

By the poolside, a small table has been set up with two covered plates. I tip my head in question as he leads me to the chair facing the lake.

“You seem to enjoy the outdoors and we only have a couple months until it’s cold, I figure why not soak up as much sunlight as we can. Besides, I’d like to get to know my wife better.”

Since when?

He takes his own seat across from me and I search his expression for his duplicity. I’d prefer it was there, only to quell the confusion in me.

I rest my phone on the table, opening the messenger app to be prepared for any reply I must give. Not sure what the man possibly wants to know, but I pretend to care about his interest with my mask firmly on, my smile fake and pleasant, practiced from my days with the Corsettis.

“When did you realize you enjoyed music?”

And so, it begins.

* * *

After lunch and twenty questions, my smile became less fake and practiced and more real. More authentic, even while red flags were being erected in my mind.

---