Chapter 5: E-Flat

He played the waltz through to the end.

The last note hung in the dark shop and died in the felt.

I found I was standing next to the bench with no memory of crossing the floor.

Pearl had left at five for Saturday bingo.

She'd said she was going to win a ham, and she'd put on the sequins.

We were alone.

"You always did turn the third bar wrong," I said.

My voice shook.

"Your father did."

"My father turned it wrong on purpose. He said a waltz that went where you expected was a funeral."

Bram laughed, a short, rough sound.

It was the laugh I had heard in my sleep for years, and I hated how quickly my whole body knew it.

He took his hands off the keys and turned on the bench to face me.

With him sitting and me standing, our eyes were almost level.

"You cut your hair," he said.

"You grew a beard."

"Do you hate it?"

"I don't know yet."

His gaze went over my face, slowly.

It stopped on my mouth.

"I'd like to know when you do," he said.

The radiator ticked.

I could smell cedar on him, and felt wool, and the faint salt of the harbor.

I had cancelled my own wedding eight hours ago and had no business wanting anything.

I wanted something so badly my hands hurt.

I put one hand on his jaw and ran my thumb through the beard.

It was softer than it looked.

"I hate it," I said. "Mostly."

"Mostly."

"Shut up, Bram."

He did, because I'd kissed him.

I did not do it gently.

I took his mouth like I was taking back something he'd borrowed, and he made a low, startled sound against my lips.

Then his hands were on me.

One slid up into my curls and held my head.

The other closed around my hip through the cardigan, and he dragged me forward until I stood between his knees.

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