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He laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
She smiled.
“Listen, you— When I saw you in the metro station, you were lost in the music. I hardly ever see that in anyone. I...” He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. “I want to know why.”
Her jaw trembled. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?”
She looked away at the park across the street. “I just can’t.”
His gut churned at the tears in her eyes. He searched his thoughts for a solution. He didn’t understand why he was so desperate to spend time with this woman, but he was.
Someone bumped into her and she shook her head. “I should go.”
“Can I at least walk you home? It’s getting late.”
She lifted her face to the sky. “It’s mid-afternoon.”
He nodded sagely. “The crazy people come out at five.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “You mean the people who work normal jobs?”
He nodded.
She laughed and he felt it in his heart.
“Or I can share another piece of music with you and you can explain it to me.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Maestro is having us play a piece by Anna Thorvaldsdottir. She’s a modern composer and I just don’t understand it. You have a unique way of hearing things. You might be able to help me understand it.”
She opened her mouth and tilted her head, as if to ask a question, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“You helped me with the Dvorák.”
“Yeah, but you’re... You’re Mark Pierce. You’re the most amazing musician... What could you possibly learn from me?”
“Never know until we try.”
She scrunched her mouth as she looked up at him. “You don’t take no for an answer very easily, do you?”
“Nope.”
She let out a long breath. “Okay.”
“Do you have plans for tonight?”
“I have to work.”
His brows knit together. “You work at night?”
She bit her lip and blinked several times before giving a small shrug. “I’m a waitress.”
“What about tomorrow night?”
She shook her head. “I work every night on the weekends.”
