Page 24 of Sapphire Storm

He nodded and fell silent. “Anyway, opera was her favorite,”he added quickly. “She was so buttoned down most of the time, but get her alonein the house and it was like there was all this music inside her trying to getout.”

“Could she sing?” Ethan asked, dumping flour into the mixingbowl.

“No, but in her heart, she could. I think.” He hesitatedbefore adding, “She wasn’t the warmest person.”

Ethan waited for Roman to elaborate, wondering if he’dhesitated because he was ashamed to speak critically of the dead or if heblamed Ethan’s long-ago actions for the woman’s enduring chill.

As the oil heated in the pan, Ethan shot several looks inhis direction, taking the guy’s temperature as well. Roman studied hisinterlaced fingers. He was the most relaxed Ethan had seen him. But there was asoft tug at his features. Not a strain so much as a weight. Maybe he thoughthe’d wandered too close to the topic of his dad’s cheating. Or maybe there wasanother painful drumbeat going inside of him—grief for his mom. Ethan waswilling to bet it was the latter; he was also willing to bet it explained a lotof his recent actions. For the past few hours, at least.

Either way, it wasn’t his place to drive the guy furtherinto either subject. He went for the lemons, slicing each one cleanly in half.“So should I put on some opera or…?”

“Whatever you want,” Roman muttered.

“Maybe we can just talk then.” He dredged the veal throughthe seasoned flour, listening to the oil sizzle and pop next to him.

Roman looked up. “How long did you see him?”

He’d been braced for this line of questioning; it was a riskhe’d accepted by offering to take the son of an old client in for an evening. Avery late evening. He’d always obeyed a code stricter than a lawyer or atherapist when it came to discussions of his clients, even though he hadn’tseen one in decades. But everything about Roman Walker was a special case.

“Two years.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Three times a month for two years?”

“No, there’d be gaps. Sometimes a couple months. But hewould always pick back up again.”

“And he never said a word about either of us?”

“Never. He was always pretending to be somebody else. Henever went by the same name. We didn’t have any conversations that were…real.They were all scripted.”

“He’d literally send you a script?”

Ethan pulled out two place settings and began setting up thefirst one in front of Roman. “No, he’d send me prompts, and I’d have toimprovise. Have you ever taken any acting or improv classes?”

Roman grimaced and shook his head. “I pride myself on beingthe one trainer in California who doesn’t want to be a movie star, thank youvery much. The only acting I do is pretending to like squats.”

The oil was hot enough now. He added the breaded veal. “Ididn’t want to act either. I took them to be a better escort.”

“For my dad?”

“Him and others. I was good to my regulars. Once I hit mystride, I was all about regulars.”

They fell silent again as the oil sputtered and the vealbrowned, and Ethan worried he’d given Roman more information than he couldbear. But the guy seemed relaxed and still. “Thanks,” Roman finally said.

“For what?”

“Answering these questions.”

“If it helps.”

This new silence felt easier, drained of strain. Once he’dsliced some onions for the spinach, he prepared the frozen package for themicrowave, then added the wine to the pan. Then it was time to add the veal tothe little lake of Chardonnay. After that, the capers. Last came the lemon. Hesqueezed the halves into the simmering sauce, late in the game so the juicewouldn’t heat up too much and turn bitter. Delicious smells filled the kitchen,and suddenly Roman sat up in his chair, as erect and eager as a dog sensing theimminent return of its beloved owner.

By the time Ethan set a plate of food in front of him, therewas a hungry glisten in the man’s eyes, and he was clearing his throat as if hewanted no obstructions between his mouth and stomach aside from the unavoidableones.

It was a stunning-looking batch, if Ethan did say sohimself. He took a seat at the opposite end of his breakfast table, watchingRoman chew his first bites. Just as he’d hoped, the guy’s eyes rolled back intohis head, and he let out a soft groan.

Then Roman noticed him watching and froze mid chew. Heswallowed. “You gonna eat?” he asked.

Ethan smiled. “In a second. This is my favorite part.”

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