“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You’re not alone. I’m the one that threw my boss through a couple hardwood tables.”
Keryn began laughing hysterically, letting out all the turmoil of emotions. Yen quickly joined in the laughing and by the time they were done, both were wiping tears from their eyes. Keryn pushed away from Yen so she could, once again, look him in the eyes.
“So where does this leave us?” she asked.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” he replied. “It’s going to take time to rebuild the trust between us. But I meant what I said. I love you, Keryn. I want to be with you.”
She stepped forward again, this time wrapping her arms around his torso. “I want to be with you, too,” she muttered softly, letting her stresses wash away with the rhythmic beating of his heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Uligart waiter led Yen through the maze of crowded tables to a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant. As he sat, the waiter politely dropped a napkin into his lap and stepped back.
“Is there anything else I can get for you right now?” the waiter asked with a faint accent. “A drink or appetizer, perhaps?”
Yen’s gaze remained fixed on the doorway, but he reached forward and tapped the inverted drinking glass. “Just water right now, please.”
As the waiter walked off to retrieve a pitcher of water, Yen glanced around the crowded, but subdued, restaurant. Gentle music, played by a string band, filled the expansive dining room of the Particle Accelerator, one of the more expensive restaurants in the Farimas Space Station. The far side of the room was lost in the gentle glow of candlelight, the only source of light for the large room. As Yen waited, he found himself hypnotized by the dancing flame of the small candelabra that acted as a centerpiece of his table. Beyond the flickering candlelight, in the center of the room, a few couples danced close together to the slow, soft music. Yen’s heart beat a little quicker at the sight of loving couples pressed together, their bodies seemingly inseparable in the dim light.
The waiter returned and, after flipping Yen’s glass over, poured a nearly full cup of cold water. Nodding, Yen absently thanked him. Taking the cue, the waiter quickly turned and left, leaving Yen alone with his thoughts. Leaning back in his chair, he reached forward and twirled the full glass of water that sat before him, watching its fluid slosh upward, nearly cresting the lip of the crystal glass.
Yen was nervous and, frankly, had every right to be. He had every reason to assume that Keryn would stand him up; that even though she invited him to dinner and not the other way around, she just wouldn’t show up and Yen would be left sitting alone for a large portion of the night. There were many shortcomings in their blossoming relationship, the worst of all right now being trust. Keryn had quickly accused Yen of sleeping with Iana, even when it wasn’t the case. Even worse, she had slept with Merric as a retaliatory gesture, something that seemed more like a poorly written dramatic play than real life.
These thoughts weren’t conducive to a true first date between them. Looking down, Yen picked up the outermost fork, the smallest of the set, and spun it between his fingers. He tried to focus on the fork reflecting the dim candlelight and block out the invasive thoughts. She would come, he told himself. She had promised, and his trust in her had to be rebuilt somehow. Suddenly realizing how silly he looked fidgeting with a fork, Yen cleared his throat and set the fork back down in its spot beside his plate.
His impatience did not last much longer. As he looked up, he saw Keryn walking across the room, being led by their waiter. Yen climbed clumsily to his feet to welcome her to the table, but found himself at a loss for words. Keryn had pulled her hair up into a mound of loose curls, a few of which hung free of her hair clips and cascaded down her neck and shoulders. She had adorned herself with a vibrant red, sleeveless dress which not only accentuated the tan of her skin, but ignited her red tattoos. Even her violet eyes seemed to sparkle deeper from the sequined dress. Smiling broadly, Keryn wound her way past the remaining tables, pausing at Yen’s booth. Gesturing, he invited her to sit before doing so himself.
Yen knew that there should have been some witty repartee that should have begun their conversation, but somehow words eluded him as he stared at her confident beauty. He tried to keep his eyes from falling toward her exposed cleavage, but Yen was too eager to drink in the full sight of her. Noticing his look, Keryn laughed softly.
“It’s okay to look,” she remarked, “but maybe you should wait until after dinner for that.”
“Sorry,” Yen apologized. “You get so used to seeing women in their uniforms that, sometimes, you forget how amazing they look when they are away from the Fleet.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Yen looked down at the clothes he wore. He shrugged as though to tell her that these were clothes he pulled straight out of his closet, but Yen knew better. The clothes were new, purchased earlier today after he received her phone call. Keryn didn’t yet know it, but he had also spent a considerable amount of money both on dinner reservations and his own private hotel room, away from Adam and Penchant. Most of his savings were now gone, but to see Keryn in this dress with her hair so eloquently fixed made the expenditures well worth it.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us in advance,” Yen said, changing the subject. Looking across the room, he caught the eye of the waiter and signaled that they were ready to begin their meal. Throughout their four course meal, they talked and laughed as though nothing had transpired between them over the past couple days; as though the past couple days had never existed in their relationship. Yen felt at ease and laughed more naturally then he had in recent memory. Something about Keryn made him feel comfortable and at home. The knot of nervousness in his stomach slowly eased, replaced by the quick flittering of his heart every time she smiled or reached out during a story to touch his hand.
As they were finishing dinner, the band took a break and the restaurant was bathed, instead, in the subdued conversations of the restaurant patrons. Their conversation slowed as well as they both leaned back away from the table, feeling incredibly full from the phenomenal meal. Looking away from Yen for the first time since their dinner began, Keryn admired the fluted columns and mosaics painted across the walls. As her eyes fell on the dance floor, she turned back to Yen with a mischievous smile.
“Dance with me,” she said.
Yen looked at the dance floor and, beyond, to the empty stage where the string band had been playing prior to their break. “Sure. The band should be back in just a second.”
“I don’t want to wait for the band,” Keryn said, rising slowly from her seat. “I want you to dance with me now.”
Yen furrowed his brow in confusion before chuckling softly. “But there’s no music. What are we going to dance to?”
Keryn turned away from him and faced the dance floor. From over her shoulder, she called back. “One thing I’ve learned is that, sometimes, you have to make your own music in life. Are you willing to make music with me, Yen Xiao?”
Yen didn’t miss the barely concealed allusion. He quickly left his seat and followed Keryn onto the dance floor. Placing a hand on her hip, he took her other hand in his as she slid close to him until their bodies were pressed firmly together. Other patrons turned and watched the unusual pair as they stood, motionless, on the dance floor.
Feeling the eyes on him, Yen tried to ignore them and instead focus on the woman in his arms. “So what now?”
“Make music for us,” Keryn cooed.
Smiling softly, Yen closed his eyes. He ran through a litany of songs that he knew, but each seemed wrong for the situation. Finally, from the deeper recesses of his mind, a song emerged that he hadn’t heard in years. Letting his power course through his veins, a soft and gentle song began to emerge from the air around him. The song was from a lifetime ago, sung to him by his mother when he was just a young boy. Played entirely in a language that no one had heard in more than two dozen years, the words were not important and were, in fact, lost more to the melodic rhythm. The tones, minor and major chords intermixed, brought forth feelings and emotions from within all who heard it. Combining both the flowing harmony that portrayed love and the harsher flat notes and
