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Chapter Fifteen
Isaiah
The official dinner was nothing like the other meals he’d shared with Darren and his mother. The food—Caesar salad, broiled grouper with a light cream sauce, braised brussels sprouts, parmesan risotto—was just as excellent as the night before. The wine was amazing too. But the mood had stiffened.
Peg had lost the playful sparkle in her eye, and Darren—God, Darren had all his masks set in place. No hint of a smile anywhere.
Isaiah got it, kind of. He’d had his one-on-one with Josh Gage, and Isaiah saw him as a man who revolved around business. Not adversarial like Jenkins was, but their conversation lacked the friendly interaction that he had with Peg.
He glanced across the table at Darren, and Isaiah’s confusion deepened. Darren had acted differently since he’d showered in the pool house. At lunch, he’d put noticeable distance between them. Then disappeared all afternoon.
And now he sat with his back so straight, he must’ve had a steel rod inserted up his . . . spine.
Isaiah frowned. He wanted to shake Darren and find out what the fuck happened. Had he pushed too far with the flirting? Had he totally misread things? Or was it something else?
Dinner wasn’t the time to figure it out.
He was under the microscope. Josh would file and later dissect every word and action.
His family was counting on him to do his best. Yes, his chances were slim, but he couldn’t toss the hope aside.
Darren interacted with his father—wooden, polite, and reserved. So different from earlier. How easily Darren had spoken with him, had responded to his blatant flirtation . . .
He wanted that Darren back again.
“Isaiah told me you showed him the solar array.” Josh directed this to Darren.
“Yes, sir. On our way to the car barn he asked about it.”
Isaiah stilled. He’d kind of blurted that out during his interview.
He snuck a look at Darren, who glanced at him. He didn’t seem angry, thank fuck. But surprised, perhaps.
“Why didn’t you tell him you paid for the installation?” Josh’s question wasn’t angry or probing. It held gentle curiosity.
Darren rubbed his nape, and a glimmer of the real Darren shone through. “I didn’t think it mattered. You had to approve it before it could be built.”
“Perhaps, but this was your idea. You should have accepted credit for its success.” Josh’s almost praise was the warmest Isaiah had seen him.
Darren blinked, and was that a hint of a smile? “Yes, sir.”
Conversation pivoted to various business topics and school. Darren’s mother mentioned all the goals Darren had scored for his soccer games. Josh changed to a more neutral topic without commenting. Just like that, Darren’s mask tightened again.
Isaiah swallowed in sympathy.
When the plates had been cleared, Peg stood. “Darren, why don’t you take Isaiah to the sitting room while your father and I check on coffee and dessert?”
If she asked him to dance naked on the table, Isaiah doubted Peg would have gotten a different reaction from her son. Darren looked pale and nervous. “Sure.”
Everyone rose.
Darren led the way to the sitting room without talking. Not quite the silent treatment, but it was clear Darren didn’t want to play host to Isaiah anymore.
“Did I do something wrong?” Isaiah asked when they reached a large, formal room. “Was it something I said?”
Darren’s brow scrunched into a frown. “No. No, of course you didn’t.”
“I didn’t cross a line earlier?” He meant the flirting, and Darren had to know it.
“No.”
The fear abated, but the tension remained. They stood a foot apart, staring at each other, until Darren rocked back on his heel and nodded over Isaiah’s right shoulder. “Let’s go in there.”
Isaiah followed him to the music room. Not Darren’s soundproof practice room, but where the family housed the Fazioli.
Isaiah about fainted at the sight of the dark wood with amber streaks. Holy shit. Darren hadn’t mentioned it was one of the rare, special-edition models.
It was gorgeous. Isaiah’s fingers twitched. God, he wanted to play it.
But, what a beauty. The thought of touching the keys made his stomach twist with nerves.
Darren sat on the bench and softly played a mellow song. He glanced at Isaiah and shuffled along the bench. “It’ll sound better with you playing.”
Isaiah jumped at the invitation and slung himself next to Darren.
“Please play with me,” Isaiah said, their arms brushing. “I like hearing you.”
Darren slid his fingers along the keys and resumed playing. The gentle movement of his arm bumped Isaiah with frissons of electricity. Their gazes caught and held, and Isaiah felt Darren’s sadness pour into him.
Darren shrugged and looked down at his fingers. “Dad and I used to be close,” he said softly.
“But you’re having issues now.”
“Yes.” Darren didn’t look up from the keys. “He didn’t plan on his namesake being gay.” He stopped playing. “Play something, please?”
Isaiah stretched his fingers over the smooth ivory keys.
