Page 36 of The Sound of Harmony

Emma lowered her napkin and pinned them both with a glare. Brooke and Theo were in love—adorably so—but it meant they saw love everywhere. Like when you bought a new car and suddenly noticed that same make and model all over the road.

She never should have told Brooke about Kendrick. Emma hated keeping things from her best friend, but she also hated being teased about simply finding a man attractive. She twisted her napkin in her lap. “I’m glad you two listen to each other,” she said. “Now listen to me for a second. Plans are for solving problems. Emotions are not problems to be solved. Especially if I keep my feelings to myself, where they belong.”

Theo nodded and took a sip of beer. “You’ve got a point.”

“Can you imagine a guy like him and someone like me?” Emma picked up her fork again. “For one thing, I’d have to listen to his music.”

“I did,” Brooke said.

“You did?” Emma and Theo asked at the same time.

“It’s right there on YouTube,” Brooke said. “How can you not?”

Emma rubbed her temple. “I don’t want to.”

What she meant was I don’t dare to. She wasn’t going to say that part out loud.

She’d grown up loving music. Emma and her sister had both taken piano lessons all through school and she’d added voice lessons starting in ninth grade. She remembered slumber parties with girlfriends where they’d karaoke their way through the pop and R&B charts, singing themselves hoarse. Nothing made her feel more alive.

And then she met Jonah, and had learned a new vocabulary for music. Country music was not just a different style but a whole new world. New friends. New values. New self. When she left Chicago, she left a part of herself behind. She still hadn’t gotten it all back.

“Aren’t you curious?” Brooke asked.

“Nope.” I’m wildly curious. Desperately curious. Curious to an unhealthy degree. “Not at all,” she said.

“Fair,” Brooke said. “But if you decide to give Kendrick’s music a try, you should know something.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s really, really good.”

“Not even Prince?” Kendrick asked.

“Not even Prince,” Emma answered.

“BTS?”

“Who?”

“Boy band. They sing in Korean.”

“It’s not the language that’s the problem,” Emma said.

“How about Bob Dylan? You can barely call that singing.”

“Funny,” Emma said. “And also, no.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Kendrick said.

“Why?” Emma asked. “I’m not stopping you from listening.”

It wasn’t late, just a little after nine on Sunday night, but Emma had already tucked herself in bed with a book and a glass of wine. When Kendrick called, there was no way she was going to let it go to voicemail. Talking to him was more interesting than a book and a better nightcap than a glass of wine. Of course, his voice was more likely to lead to erotic dreams than a peaceful night’s sleep, but that was a chance she was willing to take.

She’d finally agreed to listen to Kendrick’s playlist, which he called the best of the best from every genre. She’d switched her book for her laptop, setting it on top of the sheets and turning it up loud enough for them both to listen, but not so loud that she’d disturb her neighbors.

Much to Kendrick’s disappointment, she couldn’t stand any of the music he sent. She knew that would happen, but was willing to go through this exercise for his sake.

“I’m worried about jazz,” Kendrick said.