Page 104 of The Unknown Birds

And then it dawned on her what he was playing. “Your piece for the Armistice? When did you finish it?”

“I rewrote the last movement the night we returned from the country. You were my muse.”

“Me?” she asked, turning to study his handsome face in profile, though his eyes were closed as he continued to play.

“The original ending was far too somber. You helped me write a hopeful one instead.”

Ash didn’t know quite what to say. He was the hopeful one between the pair of them these days. How could she have helped him do anything of the sort?

He finished playing and kissed her cheek. “Just like in the war.”

“What?”

“I was closed off by the time we met. An island. I didn’t want to be, exactly, but I was. I’d lost too much, and I was afraid to let anyone new inside. And then along came you.”

“Whom you detested.”

“Told you before. I knew what you were in for. And I knew you’d be trouble for my worthless heart.”

“You didn’t.”

“I absolutely did. And I was right. You were… magnificent. Magnetizing. And you didn’t even know it. Turns out, you were more trouble than I could have possibly imagined. You cracked me open and crept inside. You made me love again. Showed me how to let the others in. I haven’t always been successful, but at least since returning to London, I’ve tried to live every day in the same brave, bold, beautiful, loving way that you showed me how to do.”

“Now it’s me who’s closed off,” she choked.

“No. You only think you are. Maybe you want to be, but that’s all right. It’s my turn now. Lay down your troubles and I’ll carry them. Stand by the doors and I’ll open them. I’ll do whatever I can to help make this old world a little bit less grey for you.”

“You always have,” Ash said. “I think I loved you from the first moment I met you,” she admitted, her heart swelling large enough to fill the whole church.

“I know. I believe I felt it too.”

The next morning, a note arrived when Ash was finishing her tea and toast.

Tonight: The Philharmonic. Pick you up at 7. Wear what you like. —AR

She smiled, supposing they must be officially courting now, though she wasn’t sure she had anything smart enough for the Philharmonic. Her blue check skirt would have to do.

“What’s got you looking like the cat who ate the cream?” her mother asked.

Ash shook her head, still smiling. “Suppose I’ll be out a bit late tonight. Try not to worry.”

“Is it that Alex Rook?” her mother asked.

Ash didn’t miss the knowing look she shot to Frau Wintter before taking a sip of tea.

“He’s invited me to hear the Philharmonic,” she admitted, her stomach doing a little flip when she said it out loud.

Frau Wintter returned her mother’s look, but simply asked, “Is it Bach?”

“He doesn’t say.”

“He came here looking for you the other day. After your trip,” her mother said.

“He found me.”

“Darling—“

“It’s—” She was going to say, It’s nothing, but she couldn’t do it. The lie felt disrespectful both to Rook and to whatever it was.