Page 50 of Passion’s Song

“Because I never thought I had a chance with you,” he said.

Her mouth fell open.

“Don’t act so shocked,” Damien said. “Why would I have ever thought there could be anything between us? First of all, your brothers would have kicked my ass if I’d ever tried to touch you.”

“That’s not true.” She paused. “Okay, maybe that is true, but you could have taken them on in a fight.”

Damien laughed. “Is that what you would have wanted? For me to duke it out with your brothers over you?”

She glided her finger through the swipe of red sauce garnishing the plate of fried dumplings. “Maybe,” she said. “It would have at least told me that you actually saw me as something other than just a tutor or a classmate. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent so much of my time being jealous of every girl you smiled at.”

“I spent enough time envying the guys who were lucky enough to be on the receiving end of your smiles, too, you know?”

Her eyes went wide again. “Since when?”

Damien picked up his fork, then put it back down. He clamped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth. He pondered whether or not to say anything further, but it seemed only fair that he admit to his own bouts of jealousy where she was concerned.

“Remember that time you played the Hollywood Bowl and we met for drinks later?” Damien asked.

She tipped her head to the side. “What was that? Five years ago?”

He nodded. “I flew to LA for a meeting and found out you were playing for one night only with some orchestra there.”

“It was a special tribute to Mendelssohn and Brahms,” she said.

“I don’t remember a thing about the music, but I remember that guy you were with. You introduced him as someone from the strings section?”

“Oh, was that—”

“Timothy,” Damien said before she could answer.

Her brows shot up. “Wow, you remember his name?”

Another nod. “I remember his name. I also remember the way he kept his arm around you the entire time we sat at that bar after your performance. And I remember those looks he kept shooting my way, as if he wanted to punch me in the throat. I figured it was in response to the same look I gave him.”

“You were jealous of Timothy?” she asked, as if it was the most absurd idea on the planet.

“You were dating him, weren’t you?” Damien asked.

She gave a half shrug. “We went out for a couple of months, but it was never anything serious.”

“I didn’t care how serious it was. I just knew that this guy who shared your love of music and traveled with you on the road, spent several hours with his hand resting on your hip. And I wanted to kill him.

“I didn’t even recognize it as jealousy at the time,” Damien continued. “I just remembered feeling... I don’t know...off, I guess. I felt off for days, and couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t until I put on one of your CDs—something I normally use to relax—and felt the rage starting back up again. It was as if I could hear Timothy’s violin getting busy with your cello.”

“Oh, my God,” April laughed. She covered her mouth with both hands, but her eyes still glittered with amusement.

“You find this funny?” Damien asked.

“A little,” she admitted. “I guess I feel vindicated. I never saw you as the jealous type.”

“Neither did I,” he said. “But, yeah, I was jealous at the thought of you and this guy dating. Even though I knew I didn’t have any kind of claim on you, I still felt as if you were...well, that you were mine, in a way. You were my April. You always have been.”

“Maybe you should have said something then,” she said. “Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t have had to kick Timothy to the curb when he tried to go a little faster than I was willing to let him.”

Damien’s hand balled into a fist. “What did he do? It wasn’t that night, was it?”

“No,” April said. “It was months later. And don’t worry, those brothers of mine taught me how to take care of myself a long time ago. I kneed him in the kidney. According to the farewell email he sent me, he peed blood for a week.”