Page 67 of Love is a Harmony
“I suppose you did.” She paused. “I always thought he’d come back one day and I’d get the chance to tell him.”
“I think he would have.” Noah had considered this a lot since Carson died. He’d made plans for Noah to be Stella’s guardian. Sure, he hadn’t expected to die, but he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t think Noah would know his niece one day. “Carson loved us too.”
Only one person could have kept him away from Ava and a return to London. Stella. If Carson went back to the family fold, he’d bring a lost little girl who’d have to grow up like they did.
He sacrificed everything to keep that from happening.
“How is the girl?”
“Stella?” Noah smiled. “She’s perfect. It’ll take some time, she did just lose her dad, but she’s sweet and smart, and I—” He sucked in a breath.
“I’m glad she has you.”
Most people doubted Noah could be what Stella needed, but not Ava, not his oldest friend.
“Let’s talk about something good.” Ava’s voice softened. “Like your wife. I’m a little sad I didn’t get to seetheNoah Clarke get married.”
He sighed, preparing himself to spill everything to Ava, but a knock on the door stopped him.
“Mr. Clarke?” someone called. “It’s time for you to go on.”
“I have to go, Ava.” He sighed. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Okay, but you tell that little girl her aunt Ava loves her.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Does that matter, Noah? She’s family. Now, go be a rock star.”
He hung up and pulled the door open. Handing his phone to one of his security guards, he walked toward the small stage. A cheer wound through the tables. There’d been no announcement he was performing here, but by the end of the show, he was sure fans would line up around the block for a glimpse.
And none of them would be the one person he wanted to see.
Stella sat with Dax at a table near the front. He was the only one of Noah’s friends who could come here without being recognized, and he’d offered to take Stella—even though it was past her bedtime.
He was already a whipped uncle who’d bend the rules for her.
At the side of the stage, a young woman handed him a guitar, and he slipped the strap over his head before climbing the steps and walking toward the single mic.
A fake smile split his lips as he looked out at the small crowd. “Hello, loves. I’m Noah Clarke. Mind if I play you a few songs?” His eyes found the camera, and he stared into the lens, speaking to the entire world. No one would ever say he didn’t know how to work a room, how to use his charms.
Up on stage, he wasn’t a newly minted uncle charged with the care of a little girl. He wasn’t in a false marriage to a woman he wanted more than anything.
Up here, the fear couldn’t touch him, because he was Noah Clarke. And his persona protected him from the rest of the world.
He picked the strings on his guitar in a basic version of the first song of his set. The crowd cheered, recognizing the familiar tune.
Noah leaned into the microphone, and as the first words left his lips, he forgot about everything else.
He’d thought he couldn’t do this without Jo, that if he stood on stage by himself too much of him would be visible, vulnerable.
But as he sang, the last couple months fell away.
In his vulnerability, he found clarity.
He found freedom.
* * *
