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“Don’t apologize,” Jen said. She pushed her chair back and opened her arms. Darren let her hug him, and she surprised Isaiah by kissing Darren on the cheek. “Thank you so much. For everything.”
Darren tossed a sideward glance at Isaiah and refocused on his mother. “You’re welcome. It was wonderful to meet you, and please let me know if you want to see a game.”
Isaiah rose and this time when he went for a hug, Darren didn’t hesitate. “I’ll call you later,” he whispered in Darren’s ear.
“Okay, great.” He let go, nodded toward Isaiah’s mother, and walked off.
Isaiah had a moment of panic. Something had changed in Darren. He had the stiff demeanor that only happened when he was trying not to show his emotions. But why? What had Isaiah done?
“He’s a very nice young man, Isaiah,” Mom said, drawing Isaiah’s attention away from the now empty front door. “And he really likes you.”
“I wish.”
“Trust me.” She squeezed his hand again. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I just need to pay the bill.” He saw their waitress and raised his hand to get her attention.
“Isaiah—”
“Hold on, Mom,” he said when the woman arrived. “Can I get the check, please?”
She tilted her head, looked at his mother, then back at him. “Your friend already paid the bill.”
Before he could answer, she walked off. Isaiah stared at her retreating back for a second before turning back to his mother.
“That’s what I was going to say. Darren paid the bill when you went to the bathroom.”
“He . . . he did?”
She shrugged. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.”
That sounded like Darren. He smiled but shook his head. “Nothing I can do now.” It also meant he could afford a slightly better hotel for her.
“You could thank him next time you see him.”
“Trust me, I will.” He couldn’t hold back the smile. “Okay, let’s find you a hotel and then call Nico so he can help us check you in.”
He took out his phone to call up the list of hotels, but his mother pushed his hand onto the table. “Darren already took care of that as well.”
What the fuck? “He did?”
“Yes, he did.” She waved her hand. “Don’t be mad. He asked me not to tell you, but we both know I can’t afford two nights at the university hotel.”
“Harrison Hotel?” The one all the mega rich alumni use that costs more for a night than the upgrade motel he was looking at cost for a week? “Mom, why would you let him do that?”
“Because I very much want to see you perform and I’m not too proud to accept a little help if it can make that happen. His family owns the hotel and has a suite reserved for them that isn’t being used. He called them and reserved it for me.”
What the fuck was he up to? No way his family had an unused suite. He was paying for it himself.
“Isaiah?” She waited until he looked at her. “Don’t be mad. He was trying to do something nice for both of us. We were talking about how many of your performances I’d missed and how I knew you missed having me there.”
“But . . .”
“Please don’t be upset with him. He was so sweet to help, and he knew you’d be mad if you found out. But he did it anyway because he said you moved people with your music and I deserved the chance to hear how great you are.”
“He said that?” His music moved Darren. And his mother would get to see him play for the first time in more than two years. “I’m still kinda mad, but I’m getting over it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Darren
Music filled the dark theater. Emotional, strong, confident, daring, and played with heart. If Darren were describing Isaiah, those would be among the first words he’d use. The qualities he most admired.
For Darren, music was an escape. A way to express himself outside of what was expected of him. Something he could turn to for comfort.
For Isaiah, music was his soul. He lived it. He commanded it.
In a perfect world, Isaiah would have the freedom to express his talent without worrying about eating or paying the rent. Or sacrificing his little earnings to support his family.
Isaiah finished a peppy jazz number and waited for comments. The professor offered a few tips for improving, but otherwise sounded pleased with Isaiah’s work.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Darren whipped his head around. He’d snuck into the performance, squirreled himself in the back—thought he’d go unseen.
“Nico,” he said, heat crawling up his neck. “I didn’t think anyone would notice me.”
Nico glanced at the stage with a giant grin. “Why are you sitting back here?”
“Um . . .”
The hesitation delighted Nico, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “You should have sat up close. So Isaiah could have seen you.”
