Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(70)

“We’ll wake up Max.”

“Play softly then. And he sleeps like a log. You won’t wake him.” She grabbed his hand, and she could see the immediate response in his body. He was nervous. He stood up and looked down at their hands. She twisted her fingers in his grip and intertwined hers with his. For just a moment, he rubbed her hand with his thumb and the feeling was so intimate that she worried she’d start to tremble herself.

They walked together to his office. Nick was very quiet the whole way, and she knew why. This was a big deal. He’d said he’d never played his music for anyone before. She assumed that meant his family as well. He’d never played for Caroline or his sister. He’d never played for his parents. But he was going to play for her.

As they entered the office, Nick clicked on the light and walked over to the dark wood bookshelf that spanned one entire wall. He pulled out two brown folders and set them down on top of all the papers on his desk. He opened one, revealing sheets upon sheets of papers with music notes scratched in pencil on printed lines, all stuffed inside the pockets. She could see the remnants of marks that had been erased and rewritten several times, and she imagined him at the piano, tinkering with the notes as he changed them on the page. It made her impatient to hear him play now. There was something so calming, so attractive about watching him.

He was studying the pages, turning them then turning back, obviously deliberating on which one to play. “May I choose?” she asked.

He stopped for a moment and looked at her. He was unsure, she could tell. She looked down at the pages. The notes meant nothing to her, so she read the titles. Carefully, she thumbed through, page after page, reading them until she got to the last one: “Dreams.” The title struck her. It was perfect.

“Play this one,” she said.

He slid it out of the folder’s pocket. As he turned to leave, Nick took her hand again, but this time it was like he was holding on to her for strength. This confident, wealthy businessman needed her?

The ballroom was bright with the morning light when they entered. Abbey let go of his hand and turned on the white lights of the two Christmas trees, and the lights looked like yellow stars against the gray sky outside. They cast a glow along the floor. Nick sat down. He propped the paper up on the music stand in front of them. Abbey sat down beside him. He turned to her, a subtle smile on his lips. Then, his foot settled on one of the pedals, and he placed his fingers on the keys.

He began to play. It was quiet, gentle, like the music boxes Max had had when he was a baby. The music was so beautiful that she closed her eyes to hear it better. It sounded tinkling and smooth at the same time, the notes bouncing around together softly. She’d never heard anything like it. It reminded her of a lullaby. Just hearing it took her back to those sleepless nights she’d had, a terrified new mother, all by herself with Max when he was a baby. It reminded her of rocking him, listening to his little sucking sounds once he’d fallen asleep, the smell of his hair. Like a slideshow, she thought of the smile Max had in his crib every morning, his first steps, the smear of birthday cake on his one-year-old lips, his first hit at his baseball game—so many memories.

Without warning, she could feel the swelling of tears in her closed eyes and she sniffled. Nick hadn’t even finished playing yet, and she already wanted to hear it again. She opened her eyes and a tear escaped down her cheek. She wiped it away. Never before had she had this kind of experience, and it made her feel differently in that moment. She felt like anything was possible.

The song ended and Nick turned toward her, immediately showing concern when he realized she was crying. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing at all.” She smiled and sniffled again. “It was beautiful.”

He stared at her for a moment as if deciding something. Then, he leaned in slowly, her heart speeding up with the realization of what was happening. He stopped just before meeting her lips. She could feel his breath, every inch of her body wanting to press herself against him. She couldn’t get close enough to him and the space between them was killing her. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispered. Then, he closed his eyes and, under the mistletoe that hung over the piano, his lips met hers. The warmth of his hands as they moved around her, the tenderness in his kiss, the perfect way they fit together—she didn’t want it to end.

But, before she was ready, he gently pulled away. Thoughts were clear on his face. He swallowed. “This… was completely unexpected,” he said. She knew just what he meant. His money, his upbringing, his ridiculous choices for spending his earnings—none of it seemed as big as the way she felt at this moment.