I exhale, my shoulders slumping. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given in so easily to the guinea pig.” She chuckles as we finish gathering up her music sheets. “I hope I didn’t mess everything up.”
“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to hear Beethoven played out of order.”
I cringe. “I’m—”
She puts her hand on my arm. “I’m kidding,” she says, and when she realizes she has her hand on me, she pulls it back and clutches the papers tighter. “It’s not a big deal. I have lots of time to get them in order, before my summer lessons start.”
I swallow and work to ignore the sensations trickling through me. Christ, she barely touched me; it shouldn’t be triggering any kind of reaction, especially around the vicinity of my crotch. Jesus, I haven’t been with a woman since Zoe, and have no desire to be with anyone. I might not have seen Gemma in a while, but we go way back. No way should a simple touch from her spark something deep inside me. Awaken something that has lain dormant for a very long time now.
“Sounds like an exciting weekend,” I tease. But who am I to talk? I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to Burgers and Brews Pub with the guys. Maybe that’s why my traitorous cock jumped to the occasion. The guys at the station are always trying to set me up—especially my best friend Mason and his wife Lisa. When Zoe was alive, we always hung out as couples, and our children played. Maybe I ought to take them up on it. Any girl I hook up with would have to know up front that a quick roll in the hay is all I’m looking for, though. I have no more to give.
“I’d prefer a weekend with my music sheets to your dangerous job any day, Callan,” she says, her eyes wide. “Running into burning buildings.” A quake goes through her. “No thank you.”
“It’s not so bad,” I say and turn to look at Kaitlyn. She’s spinning in circles, her arms wide, as she chants Gilbert over and over. For a child who’s been through a lot, she’s always happy and that brings a smile to my face. I must be doing something right. I turn back to Gemma, find her staring at me. The last time we talked she’d just taken the job at the school and was dating a police officer. I remember him being quite a bit older than her.
“How’ve you been?” I ask. “Are you still with…Ah…” Shit what was his name?
“Brad. No, we broke up. A few months ago.”
She averts her gaze, her lids fluttering rapidly as her body tenses. Okay, I’m not an expert on reading body language or anything, but I’ve clearly hit a sore spot here. Did the guy break her heart or something?
“Oh, someone new?” I ask.
“Nope. No desire. I’ve decided single is the way to go.” I frown at that—but who am I to talk? She plasters on a big smile and turns back to me. “But I’m great. Two months off school to bask in the summer sun. Though I will be helping out at the Boys and Girls club, and a few nights a week, I’ll be giving private piano lessons.”
“I want to play piano, Daddy,” Kaitlyn says. “Can Miss Davis teach me?”
It’s not the first time she’s asked. Her mom played and always filled our house with music. “We’ll—” I stop myself before spouting out my favorite response and getting Kaitlyn’s hopes up. I don’t even know if Gemma has room in her schedule. “How about we talk about it later?” I say.
Gemma gives me a wink, like she’s fully aware of my dilemma with my daughter, and my inability to say no. “She almost had you there, didn’t she?”
I chuckle. “I’ve got to get better at saying no.”
“You’re doing a fine job with her.” She casts a look Kaitlyn’s way, a look of longing in her eyes as a small smile touches her naked lips. For a second I wonder if her break-up with Brad had something to do with wanting kids. Obviously, she longs to be a mother. “She’s a sweet little girl. Very kind and sincere. Like you.”
“Shh,” I say and glance around. “I’ve got a reputation to protect here.”
Her lips quirk at the corner, then her smile falls. “You good, Callan?” she asks, her voice soft, and I get what she’s asking, what people are still asking two years later.
“I’m good,” I lie. I’m as good as can be expected, I guess. Truthfully is anyone ever ‘good’ again after losing their wife and unborn baby boy? I was once told that when you lose someone you have bad days and days that aren’t as bad. I hate that I fully understand that now.
“Do you keep in contact with any of the old gang? Are you and Mason still friends? Wait, he’s a firefighter too, right?”
“Yup, still best friends,” I say. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
“Sure.”
We head toward the doors, and the warm afternoon sun shines down on us, but it does little to loosen the tightness in my lungs. On those bad days, I walk around with an invisible band around my chest, squeezing tight. Who am I kidding? On those days that aren’t as bad, the belt is still there. I’m not sure it will ever slacken, and maybe I don’t want it to. Maybe I deserve the grief.
Gemma leans into me, her warmth and citrusy scent stirring the controlled storm in my body. Her voice is low, for my ears only when she whispers, “If she’s serious about lessons, I do have an opening.”
I nod, and consider it. “She would probably love it. Her mom…”
