Page 27 of Passion’s Song

But they were too hard to fight.

So, instead, April allowed the fantasy to play out in her mind. She let herself pretend that she wasn’t here as Damien’s pretend girlfriend, but as the real thing. She didn’t care if it made her seem like the dreamer she’d been back in high school, when he’d treated her kindly because she tutored him, and had taken her to the prom because no one else asked her. Maybe she was foolish to let herself go there, but she was going to indulge in this fantasy while she had the chance.

“Are you ready to head home?” Damien asked once the brass band brought their energetic play to a close.

“I guess—” April stopped midsentence, unable to halt the huge yawn that broke free. “So,” she finished. “Does that answer your question?”

“Loud and clear,” he said with another laugh.

Taking her by the hand, they returned to Damien’s sleek black Mercedes. And, as April had expected, by the time they arrived back to her neighborhood there was no street parking anywhere near her house.

“What the heck’s going on here?” Damien asked as he inched the car down the street.

“It’s the Frenchmen Art Market, along with people going to all the new bars that have opened up in the Faubourg Marigny.”

“But the Marigny is blocks away,” he said.

“A lot of people hang out there, especially on the nights when they hold the art market. It gets worse every single week,” April said. “But how can I complain when it’s supporting artists?”

Damien looked at her with a knowing grin. “Still championing the little guy, huh?”

“Of course,” she said. “Especially struggling artists. I understand their plight.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You’re not still struggling, are you? I mean financially.”

“No,” April said. “You know I’m not.”

“Well, it’s not as if we discuss finances,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know you do some kind of freelance thing, but I don’t know how that work is going.”

“That work is going fabulously,” April said. “Just last week I had to turn down work on a score for a Hollywood film, because I just have too much work coming my way.”

“Did they want you to fly to LA?”

“They did for this particular project, but usually I work remotely from a recording studio at the University of New Orleans. They rent out the space when it isn’t being used.”

“Sounds pretty convenient.”

“You gotta love technology,” April said. She looked over at him with a smile. “It’s adorable that you would worry, but honestly, I’m in the best financial shape that I’ve ever been in. The work is good, and the money is good. I actually started doing some shows around town, too.”

Damien’s head swung her way. “Really? Where?”

“The Gravier Street Social Club. They host small concerts. I played one a few weeks ago, and agreed to get on their schedule for a few more.”

“The great April Knight is back behind the cello? Nice.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hold in a snicker.

When they drove past her house a third time, April said, “You can just drop me off here and I’ll walk home.”

“I’m not just dropping you off. I don’t care how comfortable you are in your neighborhood,” Damien said.

“You do realize that I often walk home alone, don’t you?”

“Not when I’m around.”

He finally pulled into a spot three blocks from her house and cut the engine.

“This is ridiculous,” April said, but he was already out of the car and coming over to her side. He opened her door and held his hand out to her.