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Ali readied her fork to steal her own bite.

“Because it’s a black truffle sauce,” Charlotte sighed.

Her eyes squinted at the sight of Ali’s incoming fork and she pulled her plate out of reach of her shorter arms.

“Excuse me, this is all for me.”

Ali gasped, placing a hand over her chest.

“I offered you some of mine out of the goodness of my heart!”

But Charlotte was already holding her loaded fork out to Ali.

“Prepare yourself.”

Ali shook her head, grinning as she leaned forward, lips wrapping around the fork. Brown eyes widened before fluttering closed, and she groaned. Want sparked in Charlotte.

“I have no words,” Ali sighed, body going slack as she sank back in her seat. “None. I have died.”

“We can share,” Charlotte offered. “Then, we’ll both be winners.”

Ali’s eyes widened, shimmering with something Charlotte couldn’t place. They glowed like amber with it. Like she couldn’t believe Charlotte would offer such a thing. Or perhaps receiving the same kindness she gave so freely was unexpected.

“This seems like something your girlfriend should know. Where did you get the idea for Compose?” Ali asked, artfully twirling more noodles onto her fork, freckles popping out as her blush faded.

Charlotte’s wine glass paused halfway to her lips.

“Lilah, actually.” She set it down, fingers resting against the glass as the memory of what an awkward thing Lilah had been surfaced. “She went through a phase. It only lasted about two weeks but she was completely obsessed with sound and video editing. She kept complaining there was nothing robust enough for what she wanted to do creatively.” Her fingers spun her own fork round and round. “I spotted the gap.”

“Just like that?”

“More or less. I wrote some of the early code myself.” Charlotte shrugged. “It’s all deprecated now of course.”

“You said you play piano?”

“Correct.”

Ali’s eyebrows shot up. She reached across and flipped Charlotte’s hand over without hesitation, studying the length of her fingers.

“I know professional pianists who would kill for these.”

Part of her wanted to pull away and tuck the why of it away. But it was something a girlfriend would know.

“I’ve played since I was seven. My father taught me.” She turned her hand back over, unhurried, drawing it back toward herself. “He died when I was nine. Some of my clearest memories of him are at the piano.”

Charlotte took a bite, savoring the flavor and creamy texture. It was damn good pasta. Her dad would have loved it… he would have liked Ali, too. Her inquisitive questions and willingness to live outside the box. He might have loved her even.

“I didn’t want to make music work,” She heard herself say, tone gravelly. “I didn’t want to risk losing it.”

“So, you built an empire instead,” Ali said softly.

Charlotte’s mouth curved.

“Something like that.”

Ali’s thumb found her locket.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. But Charlotte felt like Ali understood exactly why Charlotte stopped performing more than most…