His lips curl. "Have you ever tried to play?"

I let out an amused snort. "Me? Oh god, no. I'm better at dancing to music."

I stop before him. "Are you okay?" His eyes leave the piano, and when they meet mine, they're mellow as the sky at sunset.I could stare into them all day.

"Don't worry. I don't break down every time I see a piano."

I lift my hand and follow his jawline with my index and middle finger. "Hey, you didn't break down that night. You opened up to me about an important part of your life. A part that is you, Cole."

His eyes dart back to the instrument.

"How bad do you miss playing?"

He lets out a lengthy, deep sigh. "Some days, the pull to play is immense, almost all-consuming and physically painful. I hoped it would lessen as the years passed, but it never has."

"So, what do you do when that happens?"

"There are two things that work to diminish the feelings. One of them I've used for years, and the other one is new but effective." He grins.

"And what are they?"

"Working out and kissing."

A nasty sting sits in my chest as I imagine him kissing the hell out of various women to relieve the physical and emotional pain. "Well, then you must have kissed many women through the years."

He chuckles. "Let me explain before you jump to unnecessary conclusions, you impatient woman. Working out has been my go-to option for years. But then you and your luscious lips came along."

My eyes widen. "Kissing me helps?"

"Yes, you, and only you, stir up feelings that are much stronger than the disturbing pulling sensation." He touches my cheek, and I can see the pool of conflict in his irises. "I know I should stop blaming myself for what happened and sit down and play, but I'm terrified of what might happen if I do."

With my eyes connected to his, I reply, "Just know that if you're ready, I will be there to listen."

"Thank you." He bends down, and the moment our lips are about to connect, the front door slams shut and my parents' voices echo through the house.

"Alisha, are you home?" I hear my mom call out.

"Whose car is that in front of our house?" my father hollers.

I step back, and I call out. "Mom, Dad. I'm in the living room."

The sound of footsteps coming closer makes my heart somersault in my chest.

"Oh honey, how was the walk with S—" My mom halts midway through her sentence and the room when she sees the large man standing next to me. "Oh, hello. You are not Steven."

My mother's eyes wander over Cole, and I swallow when my dad walks in and halts next to his wife.

"What is going on here?" he inquires with a straightforward voice while narrowing his eyes. "You walk out of the house with one man and come back with a different one?" His gaze meets mine.Oh boy. "Explain, Alisha."

"Hey, Dad," I chirp, giving him my 'I love you, Daddy' smile.

Before I can introduce Cole, he walks towards my parents—stretching his hand to my father. "Hello, Mr. McQueen. It's nice to meet you. I'm Cole."

"Well, Cole. I'm Jim." After they shake hands, my dad puts an arm around my mom. "This is my lovely wife, Clair."

"I can see from whom you inherited your beauty, Alisha," Cole says while extending his hand towards my mother and giving her his killer smile. My mom's eyes get fine wrinkle lines, and her lips curl into a grand smile as she shakes his hand.

"Hello Cole, it's nice to meet you." She holds his hand while investigating his face, but when she doesn't stop, I react.