“Uh, thanks,” he mumbled.“You, too.”
To his surprise, a blushcrept across her already glowing cheeks. The truth was Tara lookedphenomenal. She had made the effort to brush her eyelids with acolor that reminded him of midnight. Her hair was loosely bundledin a chignon, and her skin glowed in a crocheted cream dress thatgrazed her knees. Beside her, Caleb felt like a dishrag.
“I asked Dad’s secretary toreserve us a table with a good view of the stage, but not too nearthe speakers so we won’t go deaf.” She looked up at the starlesssky. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”
The seats were perfect,providing a sweeping view of the stage. A server glided over tothem to recite the menu from appetizers to dessert. When they’dgiven their orders, Tara asked for a glass of wine. She turned toCaleb with an impish smile. “You?”
“Just water, please,” hesaid stiffly to the waiter.
With the arrival of moreguests, the hum of lively chatter increased. An elderly couple cameto their table, asking if they could join them. Tara smile,nodding.
“Good evening,” thesilverhaired woman beamed at Caleb and sat down on the chair herhusband had pulled out for her. As he watched the couple exchange aprivate smile, Caleb felt a small ache in his chest.
They had finished theirsoup and salad when the orchestra members entered the stage.Dressed in white tops and black bottoms, the musicians settled intheir seats, and began testing their instruments. The cacophony ofpractice notes was enough to send chills down Caleb’s spine. Ginnyhad recently told him about his “quiet confidence.” But as hewatched the musicians silently going about their business,oblivious to the crowd watching them, Caleb knew that their brandof confidence was the real thing.
The conductor tapped hisbaton on the stand, and instantly, the musicians snapped toattention. There was a moment of silence as the conductor suspendedthe baton in the air. When he set down his hand, the musiccommenced. Caleb forgot everything else, including the reason thatbrought him here.
He had always been in lovewith classical music, but pop music had its undeniable charm. Wheninterpreted with woodwinds, brass, percussion and strings, thesongs took on a timeless appeal—as if they’d been composedcenturies ago, instead of only a few years or monthsback.
He was so taken with theperformance that his eyes strayed from the stage only once. Theylanded on Tara’s profile watching the musicians, eyes transfixed,lips slightly parted. Caleb felt his heart soften.
When intermission came, themusicians put down their instruments and exited the stage. On animpulse, Caleb leaned toward Tara and touched her arm. “This isawesome. Thank you for inviting me.”
She turned to him, faceflushed. “I can’t imagine watching this with anyone else butyou.”
From the corner of his eye,Caleb could see the elderly couple smiling at them. He pulled backhis hand in embarrassment, and grabbed the glass in front of him.He drained the water, willing it to cool his cheeks.
“Is this seattaken?’
Amidst his roilingemotions, the voice was the last thing Caleb expected. He liftedhis chin and saw the last person he expected to see.
Wearing a cheeky grin, adark coat and jeans that hugged his slim but muscled frame wasFranco. On his head was a black-and-white checked ska hat, its brimwound with a bright red sash.
Deepbreaths, Caleb commanded himself.It’s just Franco. He means nothing toyou.
“What are you doing here?”Tara asked sharply, her face lined with irritation.
Franco grinned. “We justgot here, and they gave our seats to someone else,” He gestured tothe two empty chairs beside Tara. “These are the only onesleft.”
“But I wanted . . .” Tara’seyes flew to Caleb’s before sliding back to Franco. “Fine,” sherelented. “Where’s Drew?”
In reply, Franco walkedover to a couple of tables away where Drew stood as rigid as asoldier, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the emptystage. When Franco touched his arm and spoke into his ear, his faceremained unchanged.
Caleb watched their slowprogress until they finally reached the table. As Franco sat downbeside Tara, Drew bent to press his cheek against Tara’s. Aftercurtly nodding at Caleb, he took the seat beside Franco.
“Why are you guys late?”Tara hissed.
“My fault,” Franco saidcheerfully. His arm was hidden beneath the table, but judging fromits movement, Caleb guessed that he was trying to claim Drew’shand. And judging from the quick jerk of Drew’s elbow, Franco hadbeen denied. “I took a nap and didn’t wake up on time. My phone wason silent mode so I didn’t hear the alarm or Drew’scalls.”
“Franco.”
“I know, I know. Sorry.” Hestraightened up and called for a waiter. “Let’s just enjoy the restof the show.”
When the musicians resumedplaying, Franco dug into his food while Drew listlessly poked athis salad. Caleb tried not to stare as Franco draped an arm aroundDrew, who shifted in his seat to deflect the move. The elderly manbeside Caleb frowned.
When the last song had beenplayed, Franco gathered Tara into a tight hug and patted Caleb onthe back. “We’ll go ahead,” he said. Drew didn’t even say goodbyeas he followed Franco.
Without talking, Tara andCaleb walked through the garden of lights, entered the glasselevator, and emerged into the open parking lot. After calling forthe driver, Tara turned to him. “Sorry about Franco and Drew. I’mused to the drama, but it can get too much for a first-timewitness.”
Franco was no longer hisbusiness, but Caleb couldn’t help asking, “Are they always likethat?”
“Notalways. They’resickeningly sweet when it’s smooth sailing. But they also havethese small fights”—she rolled her eyes—“a lot.”
Not quite the perfectcouple then, Caleb thought, gazing up atthe moon. It, too, was imperfect tonight. A sliver of light wasmissing from its cheek.
“Are you busy nextweekend?”
The question threw him offcourse. “Why?” His own question sounded like a bullet, swift anddefensive.
“That new Chris Hemsworthflick is showing,” she said tentatively. “Are you up forit?”
Again, Caleb lookedskyward. Still no stars. The clouds had formed a thick blanket ofhaze.
“I can’t,” he saidfinally.
He saw her shoulders sagbefore she squared them again. “Friday night? Or maybe the weekendafter this?”
Maybe the air containedcourage, Caleb thought, drinking mouthfuls of it. His voice cameout as a whisper. “Sorry.”
She clutched his elbow andhe had no choice but to meet her eyes.
