Page 62 of Love is a Harmony
Yeah, they were quite the pair.
Two workaholics with no lives outside of their jobs.
And neither of them knew how to break free.
He peered at her over the top of his menu. “So, tell me about Stella.”
A smile came unbidden to her lips. Stella. “She’s sweet, but sometimes she has this spunky side.”
“It’s really terrible what happened to her dad.”
Melanie’s smile fell as the waitress appeared. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll take the salmon, please, with asparagus.” She handed her menu to the waitress.
Her dad pursed his lips. “A burger sounds delicious.”
Weeks ago, Melanie would have stared at him until he changed his order. She’d have contradicted him herself.
But now…
When she didn’t say anything, her dad smiled. “Yes, the burger, medium, with homemade chips on the side.”
The waitress took his menu and walked away.
“Hmmm.” Her dad draped his napkin in his lap and took a sip of water. “Sweetie, did you even hear what I ordered?”
Melanie nodded.
“No ‘do you know how fattening that is, Dad’ or ‘what about your heart, Dad’?”
“One burger isn’t going to destroy your heart.”
One edge of his mouth curved into a half smile. “I don’t know what happened to you in France, Mel, but I like it.”
Melanie folded her hands on the table to still their shaking. Her dad might like the changes, but she wasn’t sure she did.
She replayed her parting words to Noah, cringing at how cold she’d sounded, how like the old Melanie. But it was for the best.
Ever since going to France, she’d felt a discontent brewing. With her life. With herself. She was thirty-four years old, and all she had to show for it was a relationship with her dad. That was important, but it wasn’t everything.
“Are you okay?” Concern shone in his eyes. When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You told Noah about Justin.”
Melanie hugged her arms across her chest. “H-he was playing Justin’s guitar. I just…”
“You wanted him to know.”
She had. It wasn’t only about the guitar. She’d wanted Noah to know him, to know her. “I don’t really know why.”
“That boy…”
“Dad, he’s twenty-nine years old. When are you going to stop calling him a boy?”
“When he stops acting like one.”
“He’s not the same person he was only a few months ago. You’ll see that, eventually.”
He sighed, long and loud. “That’s not the issue, Melanie. He was in your apartment. I know you like to get close to your rock star group and have them feel like they know you, like you’re one of them—but you’re not. You work for the label. You can’t just run off to France and marry a rock star. You can’t have them in your home.”
