Aiesha looked at him for a long moment. Everything about him was so incredibly special. His patience. His sensitivity. His kindness. Her heart felt so heavy at the thought of when this time together would be over. How would she ever find someone so in tune with her? How would she ever fill that giant hole of loneliness inside her once he was out of her life?
She took a little breath and slowly released it, her gaze going back to her drink. ‘I hated everything about my childhood. I hated the poverty. I hated the cruelty. I hated the fact I didn’t fit in. For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of escaping. The only way I could escape was with music.’
‘How did you learn to play the piano?’ he asked. ‘Did you have formal lessons?’
Aiesha kept looking at the tiny wooden spines on the umbrella. ‘There was a piano in the church hall a block away from the estate we lived on. I used to go there and play it for hours. The pastor didn’t seem to mind. After a while he started leaving a few music-theory books lying around. I taught myself to read music. The technique of playing was much harder to learn. I listened to CDs when I could but I’ll never be good enough to play anywhere but a dingy nightclub.’
‘But you play like a professional.’
She screwed up her mouth in a self-deprecating manner. ‘I wouldn’t be brave enough to play in front of a sober audience. Not my own stuff, that is.’
He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. ‘But you’re so talented. That music you played the other day. It was so emotional, so haunting. It was like a soundtrack to a really emotional movie. Do you have more like that? Stuff you’ve written yourself?’
Aiesha looked at her hand in his. The engagement ring looked so real, so perfect for her finger. He was so perfect. Why had she taken this long to realise it? Or had she always realised it? He was perfect but she was wrong for him. Bad for him. She would bring trouble for him if she stayed around too long. Hadn’t she caused enough trouble in the past? She brought her gaze up to his. ‘You’re nothing like him, you know.’
His brows met over his eyes. ‘Who?’
‘Your father.’
His expression clouded as he released her hand and sat back from her. ‘I’ve spent too many years of my life trying to convince myself of that.’
‘It’s true, James.’ She reached for his hand again, curling her fingers around his strong, capable ones. ‘He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. You care. Look at the way you looked after your mother after the divorce. She told me how you made sure she got a proper division of the assets. Your father would have swindled her out of her fair share but you stood up for her. You even paid the lawyer’s bill. And you bought her Lochbannon. You visit her whenever you can. You worry about her hooking up with a guy you’ve never met. If that’s not caring, I don’t know what is.’
His mouth twisted as he looked down at their joined hands. ‘I used to think my parents were doing OK. Not superhappy...but OK.’ He looked at her again. ‘I guess I didn’t want to see my father for who he was. My mother, bless her for being so gracious, didn’t want to ruin my relationship with him. But it cost her dearly. For year after year she put up with my father’s affairs so I could have what she considered a normal upbringing. She came from a broken home and knew how hard it was for kids with shared custody arrangements.’
Aiesha stroked the length of his thumb where it was resting against her hand. ‘It must have been a shock to finally find out the truth about him.’
‘It was.’ He flattened his mouth as if the memory disturbed him. ‘I felt like my whole childhood was a lie. Everything I believed in was false. Love. Marriage. Commitment. It made me wonder if anyone was ever happy with their lot. That everyone was out there pretending to be OK when they were anything but.’
‘I’m sure there are some people who get it right...’ She looked at the way his thumb was now stroking the back of her hand. Her engagement ring—her fake engagement ring—glinted at her mockingly.
He turned her hand over in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘Want to dance?’
Aiesha slipped her arms around him as he drew her to her feet. She laid her head against his chest as he led her in a slow waltz on the small dance floor. Being in his arms felt safe. Made her feel anchored. Made her feel loved.
Loved?
James didn’t love her. He cared about her. Like he cared about everybody. He was a responsible person who took others’ welfare seriously. She would be a fool to conjure up one of her pointless little dreams. None of her dreams had ever come to life. None of her prayers had ever been answered. None of her planets had ever aligned.