Gideon takes my hand, and butterflies take flight at the contact. As we move through the room, shadows of light dance across my face.
“You don’t look okay.” The desire to tell him I was okay, but now I’m not because I remember his touch filters through me. The way he played my body as if I were the cello.
“Are you warm?” he asks.
Great, now I’m blushing.
“Just parched,” I answer, placing my hands on my lap and fiddling with the hem of my dress. Gideon nods before raising his hand to signal for the server. “I can’t believe you rented out this whole place for us.”
“I know you were bored…” His voice is playful, and it makes me smile.
I quirk a brow at him. “Well, there’s bored, and then there’s renting out a whole restaurant. And don’t get me started on Lincoln Center.”
“No, please”—he grins—“let’s talk about that.” My cheeks warm as I wait for him to mention the enormous elephant in the room. But he doesn’t. “Why can’t you perform in public? You mentioned your brother, but you never gave a reason.”
I take a deep breath. “I was on stage, and I was searching the crowd. The only person I had was Roman. It was my turn to play. I had the cello between my legs and the bow lifted, but as I searched the crowd, I couldn’t find him. Even after my parents died, I had never felt this alone. I felt naked in front of the crowd. And when I lifted my bow, my shaky hand jerked, and a screech rang through the air. The crowd of my peers, of everyone at the school, they all laughed. I closed my eyes, and then I remember the feeling of tears running down my cheeks.”
“What happened?”
“I ran.”
“And you haven’t tried since?”
I shake my head. “I have, but every time I do, I still hear them…well, until tonight.” Now I’m for sure blushing. My cheeks are on fire. “You said you were hungry,” I say, changing the topic.
“I was.” His answer surprises me. I know he said it, but I didn’t expect him to be okay with me asking him again.
“Me too.” I look down at the table, finger absentmindedly touching the tines of the fork.
The silence between us becomes thick. The moment stretches as I wait for the tension to break.
“I’m sorry.” Gideon’s voice sounds like gravel.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Gideon cocks his head in a mocking gesture. “Only a month ago, you had a different opinion on the matter.”
“I realized Roman was a big boy. He made his own bed.”
“True.”
“How did you survive?”
“Winter was cold in New York, especially when you’re homeless, so I made my way to Florida. Miami, to be exact. That’s when I met my friend Tobias. We were both teens. The only difference was his family was in the business. Tobias got me a job. The rest is history.”
It’s obvious that this is the part where Gideon doesn’t want to tell me more, and to be honest, I’m surprised he told me as much as he did.
I don’t need him to tell me more because the man I know and the man who worked for Tobias and then took over are two separate people to me.
Luckily for me, the server chooses that moment to come over and places two menus in front of us.
After we both order, Gideon leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.
“Tell me one good memory.”
“From my childhood?” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, nervous energy starting to kick up in my stomach at the thought of talking about this with him.
“No. Tell me about a good memory with your brother.”