Chapter 16 #2
The lights were lowered, enough to draw attention forward. Conversations softened, then stilled, the murmur of the room giving way to something quieter, more focused.
Kieran straightened in his seat beside me as the first notes of the organ filled the air, and even in the dim light, his smile said it all. The music carried through the space, a rousing triumphant sound. In the darkness, his hand found mine, and he laced our fingers.
When the piece came to an end, the applause was rapturous.
I’d been here before, many times. The programme was familiar, its structure, the flow of it, even most of the performers. I knew what was coming next, what should have held my attention.
What usually held it, at any rate.
I’d bought the tickets months ago, intending to take Cole. He would have appreciated it. He could even be in the audience. But I knew from experience that plans should be written in sand, not etched in stone.
I glanced at Kieran. He was leaning forwards, drawn into the music in a way that was entirely unselfconscious.
And it was then I realised something had changed.
The music was still there. I could follow it without effort, anticipate its turns, recognise its phrasing before it fully arrived. But it felt distant, secondary.
My focus kept returning to him, to the way he responded to it, the changes in his expression, those moments where something caught him, held him, before releasing him again.
I knew those moments. I’d experienced them myself, countless times. But seeing them reflected in someone else—seeing them in him—was new.
I became aware that I was no longer listening in the way I usually did. The music wasn’t washing over me, but moving around something else.
Something more immediate.
I let out a slow breath, my gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
This is not what I expected.
And yet it felt right.
I leaned back, allowing the music to continue without me for a moment. For once, it wasn’t the most important thing in the room.
He was.
The interval arrived, and I leaned into him. “Well?”
Kieran didn’t look at me, but he smiled. “This has been wonderful so far.”
I couldn’t agree more.
The final note lingered, then dissolved, and for a moment, no one moved.
Then the applause rose, warm and sustained, filling the space that the music had held so carefully only seconds before.
I joined in automatically, but Kieran didn’t clap straight away.
He sat there for a fraction longer, as if reluctant to let it go, as if something in him was still following the music even as the rest of the room returned to itself.
Then, slowly, he joined in, his eyes shining.
That’s it. Come back to me from wherever the music took you.
We had to move eventually.
We walked towards the exit, the atmosphere changing with every step: conversations rose again, voices overlapping, energy returning in layers. By the time we reached the street, it had shifted completely. Men stood in groups, laughter spilling into the night air.
I glanced at Kieran, his gaze moving from one group to another, taking it all in.
“There’s an after party at a bar just up the street from Romeo. Would you like to go?”
He smiled. “I’d love that.”
We strolled through the streets, taking our time. A man called out my name as we passed, a quick greeting, a hand brushing my shoulder in recognition. I returned it easily, exchanging a few words before moving on.
“You know a lot of people here,” Kieran said after a minute.
“This is true.”
“And they know you.”
“Yes.”
“I like that.”
I glanced at him. “Dressed like that, you look as though you’re part of this.”
His eyes met mine, and there was a steadiness to him that I hadn’t seen before.
I liked that.
By the time we reached the bar, it was already full to overflowing, men spilling out onto the street, cigar smoke pervading the air, the sound of voices filling it.
It was the kind of space where people chose to stand close together.
I left him outside while I went to the bar, and when I returned, he was standing there, taking everything in.
I handed him his glass, then let my hand rest on his nape, stroking him gently, loving how he leaned into my touch.
I raised my glass. “To your education.”
He grinned. “I’m beginning to think I should’ve asked for a syllabus.”
I took a sip of my drink, acutely aware of how close we were standing now, that this space was no longer just mine.
He was in it with me, and he hadn’t stepped back once.
“All good?” I asked.
Kieran nodded. “Yes.” Then he added in a quieter tone, “Very.” Then he pulled his phone from his bag and peered at it.
“Something important?”
He smiled. “It’s a text from Karl.” He read aloud “Do I expect you back this evening?”
“Do you want to go back to his place?”
Say no. Say no.
He gazed at me for a moment. “No.” He typed quickly. A second or two later, his phone buzzed, and he chuckled. “Karl said ‘I thought that might be the answer. Have a good time.’”
I held his gaze for a second longer, aware of the shift within me. I knew what lay at the heart of it.
At some point, you stop wondering if someone will stay, and start recognising that they already have.