25. Ambrose #2
I glanced up as Damien pointed us out as we balanced awkwardly between sitting and standing. “Where have you been? And with Zeth Washer, no less. Hoping to get out of reading?”
Everyone swiveled in their seats, and my eyes darted around the room. We certainly appeared guilty arriving so late. I mostly felt bad for Zeth, but he didn’t look bothered in the least.
I stood tall and smoothed my hand down my jacket. “Of course not. I was practicing my haiku.” I stepped out from my seat to make my way to the front.
“That’s a poem with seventeen syllables,” Zeth explained to Damien, very boldly, and Damien’s face soured.
Several chuckles rose from the crowd, including my father. Zeth remembered what I told him about being himself, and my father was amused. I just hoped I could get through this brief reading.
God, it was hot up here with everyone facing me. Most people said I was good at being social, and perhaps I was, but I was terrified of getting up in front of crowds like this. I didn’t like all the attention. I didn’t like looking at the sea of faces as they stared back. It made me nervous.
“Tonight, my reading will be a haiku,” I told everyone. A woman in the audience snorted with amusement, and I was glad the room was dim to hide my burning face.
I peered into Zeth’s encouraging gaze before focusing on the dessert table.
A white-frosted cake held my attention as I placed my hands behind my back.
Then my eyes drifted back to Zeth’s encouraging expression.
I relaxed, and the words came to me, “A caged bird won’t sing.
He’s meant to fly with spirit. The golden sky calls. ”
When I finished, glad I remembered it all, I bowed and took my seat beside Zeth as everyone clapped. The adoration in his golden eyes had my body warming. To calm myself, I whispered, “You should go next.”
“I would be honored to follow you,” he said much louder. “Especially after your last-minute poetry lesson eased my nerves.”
I’d been the one wanting Zeth to calm me, but I’d unknowingly helped him too. “Anytime.”
Zeth moved to the front of the room, where he pulled a sheet of folded paper out from his jacket pocket.
He smoothed it out while nodding at my father, my sisters, Millie and Annabelle, and our host. The paper shook slightly, the only sign that Zeth was nervous, but he still managed to send a quick grin my way that promised surprises.
Clearing his throat, Zeth announced, “I wrote this poem, titled ‘Half a Page of Happiness.’”
My cheeks glowed with pride already.
“I’ll not pretend to be a poet,” Zeth started adorably. Everyone leaned closer to catch his rich baritone. “I’d rather formulate love into a simple equation. In fact, words escape me while gazing into your daring eyes. And when we touch? I am lost.”
A woman sighed, and I didn’t blame her. Zeth put passion into his words.
He swept his gaze over the audience and continued even softer, “Yet here I stand to open my heart through sentences and syllables scribbled onto imaginary paper. Stupid risks, held hands, and precious nights spent admiring the stars from your arms. Eventually, I couldn’t read those reminders without ripping myself in two, so I crumpled it all into a tight ball and swallowed my pain until your light faded away.
I was blind before sparks flew between us one last time.
You unfolded my small scrap of happiness.
You smoothed out the wrinkles in my soul with kind words and bold kisses.
Now my page is ragged and worn, yet still I cling to it, because I never want to forget again how you light up my life.
How you push me to be better than I am, and… ”
Zeth met a few adoring gazes, including my own, as he confidently finished, “And how much I cherish what’s always been mine.”
I held my breath, my face so hot I was sure everyone was looking at me.
But they weren’t. Many of them eyed the others Zeth had looked at during the end of his poem.
He did that to protect me. But Nathaniel Rios turned from a few chairs down and sent me a rakish grin, as if he suspected the truth.
Part of me was thrilled to be Zeth’s secret lover.
The other part of me broke, because I wanted all of them to know I was his, and he was mine.
Always , he’d said. I’d always been his.
Everyone clapped, including my father, and Sloane stood to applaud him.
Zeth bowed to her before leaving the front to sit with me.
I could hardly sit through the rest of the readings, as my mind constantly wandered to Zeth, and how his meaningful words were more than a poem. They were a declaration.
I lit up his life. That thought made my soul sing.
It was hard not to take his hand over the course of the next hour, but I sat close to him, and Zeth sent me plenty of small, playful glances.
He even inconspicuously stretched his arm over the back of my chair so he could trace little circles onto the back of my shoulder.
When the last person finished, I was honestly disappointed the night was ending.
Mrs. Washington got up to thank everyone for coming before they left. My father was in a hurry, as he grabbed his jacket and tried to gather Emiline and Hattie, but they were busy talking with others now. It would take him a few minutes to get my sisters out the door.
I moved around the crowd with Zeth to join Millie and Annabelle. A few others gathered around them as well.
“It was a lovely poem, Zeth, and Amby.” Annabelle smiled. “Shall we all walk out together?”
I nodded, but the thought of going home to my cold bed made me ache. After bidding a few people goodbye, and flipping Damien off behind everyone’s backs, we made our way to the foyer to gather our caps and outerwear before stepping outside.
“Oh, Millie-Bug, that hat completes your outfit,” Annabelle said.
“Why thank you, Annabells.”
I looked over swiftly to see them both walking arm in arm to her car, parked behind my father’s carriage. They already had nicknames for one another? How long had they liked each other?
Zeth and I walked the line of vehicles along the street, and I inhaled the night air, glad it was dark. A few people lingered to talk, as they always did. When we reached our black carriage, my father and Emiline spoke with Annabelle and Millie for a moment while I moved closer to Zeth.
“Do you and Millie need a ride home?” I asked.
Zeth peered inside the little window on the door. “I’m not sure there’s room for all of us.”
“We could strap Hattie to the top of the carriage.” I shrugged. “Or I could sit in your lap.”
“Oh,” Zeth chuckled low. “I like the second option, but what would your dad say?”
“Just talk business with him. He probably won’t even notice I’m there.” I meant it as a jest, but Zeth frowned.
“Zeth,” came my father’s bold voice as he turned to us. “It was good to see you. I enjoyed talking with you tonight.”
“You too, sir, and I wanted to tell you…” Zeth leaned closer to my Father to share, “Watch out for your manager, Mr. Glasses. I’ve known enough betrayal to spot it when I see it.”
“You mean Robert Wilson?” I asked Zeth with surprise. Quite the accusation. The prudish man hardly looked at me when I talked to him, but I never would have thought he’d betray the bank.
“Hmm,” Father hummed as he rubbed his mustache. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what else you have to say about my bank and Port Winchester. Perhaps we can speak over supper Sunday night at my home?”
My eyes widened, and I made a weird noise in my throat. When they looked curiously at me, I pretended to scratch something off my neck. My father was asking Zeth to dinner?
Father shook his head and turned back to Zeth. I rubbed my thumb and waited for his reply. Things were moving much faster than I thought they would, and now that anxious knot from earlier returned in my stomach, because it meant I was closer to telling my father the truth. About everything.
When Zeth eyed me, he seemed to sense my nervousness. His smile faltered briefly, but he turned to my father and answered assuredly, “I’d love to join your family for dinner.”