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Perhaps that was the thing about music. It made you lose your sense of time and just follow its flow—its rhythm.
All my problems at home were gone, and all my confused feelings from my boss were forgotten. Here on this piano, I was at peace. I was safe. And no one was going to hurt me.
The entire night felt magical. Almost like I was living in a fairytale and I didn’t want to leave even as my hands hurt from playing the piano and my back strained from sitting. It was the beautiful type of pain I was willing to endure forever.
Eventually, we finished playing, and as the host introduced us, a loud stream of applause and whistles echoed from the crowd. And Bobby stretched out her calloused hands to help me up on my feet. We bowed in front of the people, as cameras from the press who were invited flashed. And I gave a wave and smile.
When I looked at Bobby, her eyes shone with joyous tears as she threw kisses to the audience.
I jolted as a hand snaked around the small of my back. My head snapped to the side to see Matthew handing us both bouquets. Mine were blue and pink hydrangeas, while Bobby’s were pink and white roses, both wrapped in elegant wrappers and ribbons.
We stayed a while and posed for photos before Matthew escorted us both to the wing. The formal part of the party was over, yet most of the guests still lingered at their tables and on the dance floor to talk and dance to the music from the speakers.
Some even lingered on at the open bar to maximize their alcohol intake for the night. I reminded myself to grab a dirty martini later.
My blood was still singing after our performance. And when Bobby parted with us to grab something to eat from the buffet table, I couldn’t stop grinning. I was so over the moon I wanted to cry. Nothing—absolutely nothing could ruin this feeling.
Matthew, who was wearing the crispest suit out of all the guests, chuckled as we left the wing and returned to the main hall, where the chatter of people filled my ears.
“You got me flowers? You didn’t get me flowers the first time I played,” I pointed out as he guided me to a vacant table on the side of the room. The food was still steaming, telling me that Matthew had reserved it for us, and I was touched that he had waited for me. At the smell and sight of the heavenly-looking dishes, my stomach growled, finally realizing that it was starving.
“I got you both flowers,” he corrected me, pulling out a chair for me. I settled my bouquet on the vacant chair to my left while Matthew took the spot to my right. “But yours were the expensive one.”
He poured me a glass of champagne and the bottle reminded me of the last time I had played. The same expensive champaign, but us naked on the floor. My cheeks burned and Matthew grinned, perhaps remembering the same thing.
“You look beautiful tonight, Reagan. That dress is something else.”
My left leg was showing thanks to the generous slit the dress had. It was classy but in a very sexy way. I was glad that Matthew liked it because as I tried on the dress yesterday, all I could think about was Matthew taking it off me.
“Is it a little too over the top?” I asked coyly. “If I had known that everyone was wearing black, I would’ve worn something else.”
“You’re perfect. It’s not your fault you have better style than anyone else here.”
We talked as we dug into our food, and I didn’t care that we were the only ones eating except for Bobby on the other end of the room, holding her plate awkwardly as she laughed at something a friend of hers said.
“I always want to be the center of attention,” I joked and Matthew chuckled. I wondered if Matthew was also looking at me like I was the only person in the room, but that was exactly how I looked at him.
And I didn’t give a shit that some of the staff was seeing us dine together like we’d known each other our entire lives. Or that Clair Sullivan was somewhere in the hall and she might catch us. Tonight, I decided I deserved to be carefree.
“And you should be,” Matthew agreed. “I heard some men talking by the bar. They thought you looked beautiful. So I interrupted their little party and told them that the diamond on your finger says you’re already spoken for.”
“Possessive are we, Mr. Parker?”
“For you, Mrs. Parker, always.”
Before I could throw in another sassy reply, a familiar female voice interrupted us, calling out to her boss from the crowd.
“Matthew!”
Clair wore an emerald silk dress that made her red hair glow. She looked years younger. Behind her was a man who looked to be the same age as Matthew, wearing a navy suit, his onyx hair framing his face and his jaw strong as he walked smoothly towards our table, an uninterested look painted his face.
“Oh, God,” Matthew muttered under his breath as he wiped his lips with a napkin.
“What?”
“Go along with me, okay?” he said. He didn’t give me enough time to register his words before he stood by his chair and extended a strong arm across the table to the other man. They shook hands and it looked so formal I almost thought they weren’t friends.
“Montgomery.” The man gave a curt nod.
