Chapter 18
Lily
Our footsteps are quiet on the cobblestones, and we don’t talk as we walk through the shadows. Crickets chirp, a soundtrack just for us, and an owl hoots in the darkness.
Walking and listening to the nighttime sounds slowly calm my nerves. The air is cold around us, but I’m still so shocked by being outside that it feels good. I’d probably be sweating through my clothes in any other weather.
But can you blame me? The last time I walked freely outside was nineteen months ago. In Las Vegas. With a man who fed me pretty lies and made me think we were in love.
I turn my head to look at Ryder, wondering if I’m being taken advantage of again.
But it’s an easy answer to me—of course not.
Ryder has only cared about me and what I need.
He’s entirely unselfish, considerate of my feelings.
With Tristan, it was about what he needed and wanted, even when he was pretending to love me.
Besides, Ryder hasn’t made any kind of real moves. Only the ones I play up in my imagination, pretending he means more than he actually lets on. To him, I’m the little girl who got locked in a tower, and he’s being nice to me the way he’d be nice to a pet.
“You okay?” he says softly.
I nod. “Why?”
“You just let out a big sigh.”
Of course I did. I’m lamenting the fact that Ryder will never see me as a romantic interest. “Just a lot of physical exertion,” I fib.
“Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” He points ahead at a building across the city center that I can’t quite place. It’s been nearly two years since I walked through these streets.
We reach the city center, pass the fountain, and keep walking down Main Street. Ryder steps into an alleyway and opens a door.
“Suspicious,” I comment. “I like it.”
“Of course you do,” he replies, holding the door open for me as I walk through. The building is dark, and I don’t know where I am, but I feel the thrill of excitement. Ryder passes me and walks ahead, guiding me down a corridor that leads to…
A stage.
A stage with wooden floors, red curtains…
And a black grand piano in the center.
Ryder turns and holds his arms out, showcasing the piano. I stand frozen in place, blinking a few times before I’m convinced that this isn’t a dream. Inhaling sharply, my hands shake as they rise to my heart.
“A…a piano.” The words come out of my mouth softly.
“Yes,” he says with a smile.
Tears prick my eyes. “You brought me here…to play the piano.”
His arms drop, and I see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I thought you’d like—”
No longer frozen, I run and launch myself into Ryder’s arms. I bury my head in his chest and wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing tight. “Thank you,” I say, my voice muffled.
He stays still for a moment, then gently wraps his arms around me. “You haven’t even played yet.”
“This is more meaningful than I think you understand.” I tilt my head up to look at him, blinking away the tears that are clouding my vision. “Thank you.”
He looks down at me, his gaze intense. I think he’s a little shocked at my reaction, and I feel his heart pounding in his chest. The butterflies in my stomach are fluttering out of control.
No, Lily. Focus on the piano.
I step back, out of Ryder’s grasp, and walk around him to the grand piano.
It’s a Yamaha, not quite the Steinway that I had at home in Silver Lake City, but still a beautiful instrument.
Gingerly, I lower myself to take a seat on the bench before remembering how late it is.
I look over at Ryder, my brow furrowed. “I can play this? Right now?”
Ryder nods and gestures over to the audience. “Rufus is the security guard overnight here. I cleared it with him.”
I glance over the empty seats and see Rufus, the town security guard. He raises a hand in greeting, and I wave back, then he disappears through the door into the lobby of the theater.
I look back at Ryder. “What will you do?”
He gestures at the seats. “I’ll sit there and wait for you. Make sure nothing dangerous happens.” He says it with a grin.
I swallow. “I haven’t really performed for anyone in a while.”
“Don’t think of it as a performance. Here.
” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“I’ll read a book while you play. I won’t even pay attention.
” He turns and heads down the stairs on the side of the stage, taking a seat in the front row of the auditorium.
He holds up his phone and makes a big production of turning it on, showing me that he’s opening his e-book and settling into his seat to read.
Well, okay. If he’s not listening too intently, I can really go for it.
I brush my fingers over the keys, and my lips tremble with emotion, so close to tears.
I press middle C, trying to get a feel for how heavy the keys are.
Every piano is different, and it affects the way you play.
The note rings out through the theater, and it seems this piano’s keys feel pretty similar to my piano at home.
I adjust the bench seat, since I’m so short, and press the pedals a few times.
“Any day now, Lily,” Ryder calls out from the audience.
“I thought you weren’t listening,” I call back.
He keeps his eyes on his phone but smirks. But he’s right. I’m stalling.
Which piece should I play?
I think over my repertoire. Through my years of experience, I have dozens of pieces memorized. Brahms’ “Intermezzos”, Debussy’s “Clair de Lune”, Rachmaninoff’s “Etudes”…
Ah. I know.