Page 82 of Without a Clue

“And you joined the group,” I say for clarification, “not because of the all-star cast. Or the fame. Or the glory. But because of me.”

“Yes.”

“And you . . .”

Suddenly there is a thunderous pounding on the piano directly behind me, two dozen keys launching into a fiery war.

For a hundred reasons now my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest.

“You decided to tell me this now to . . .”

“To clear myself of murder.”

I nod briskly. “Right. Yes.”

“And to let you know XY ABJASD KGJ$EH.”

The words that come from his lips are halfway muted by the pounding on the second piano adjacent to the first.

“What?” I yell.

He gives me a full-charm smile, the kind that says you are adorable and I’m being patient. “XJEDBJWEHIBDFB,” he says louder.

It feels embarrassing, a point against me and my pathetic ears for having the audacity to not hear. But the pianos are in a full-on war right behind me.

I scoot the chair over until I’m but two inches away from his face.

Mark my words, I will not miss it this time. “One more time,” I say.

And with a smile that creases the corners of his eyes, he grabs my shoulders and draws me in until his breath tickles my ear.

“I’m in love with you.”

I don’t move.

I’m frozen.

People are moving around me, trickling closer to the stage behind my head. Grins on. Cameras out to capture the dueling pianists.

The bright light of the cruise hall is dimming with the influx of bodies, the room getting darker by the moment.

People are blocking the path to the entrance of the bar.

The only entrance.

The only exit.

Closing us in.

Flashes of underwater scenes come to mind as another pound on the piano roars in my ears.

Did Nash just tell me he loved me?

Did I hear that correctly?

Or am I in the middle of a panic attack and every sense in my body is overstimulated and I’m only hearing what I want to?

It’s terrible timing.