Page 124 of Carry On
“There aren’t enough vaccines in the world for that to happen, Lucky,” I scoffed. “But you can take all those thoughts, put a pin in them, and we can revisit them after we get home.”
“You’ve got it.”
Another quick kiss, and we were on our way again. We fell in line with the small group of other people going to the same concert, all of us trickling into the old building. We followed a trail of candles through the hallways until they spilled into a large room filled with more candles than I could ever hope to count.
“When they said candlelit, they really meant candlelit,” I muttered. Everywhere meanteverywhere. Extra tables had been brought in to create levels and more places to put even more candles. The members of the string quartet sat in a circular opening, practicing, while two dozen chairs were arranged in another section.
“I feel like that’s a fire hazard,” Nash whispered, leaning in close. “Maybe you should give them your business card in case the place burns down and they need a good lawyer.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I said and silently hoped to hell the building didn’t burn down. I stared at the room of candles, imagining every way this thing could go wrong. “There’s no way this is safe.”
“You picked it, sugar bear,” he commented. The emphasis on the pet name pulled me out of my anxious worrying. I stared at him, shaking my head.
“No,” I retorted. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Little love?”
“No.”
“Big guy?” He cocked a brow, and if I wasn’t annoyed by the dumb names, I would’ve found it sexy. “Big fella? Champ? Slugger?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded. “Baby. You can call me baby.”
“Yeah, I can,” he replied with a grin. Leaning in, he gave me a quick kiss. “It got you out of your head, didn’t it?”
Damn man. But he was right.
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” I asked.
“I thinkyou’recute,” he countered, making me blush. Thankfully, the low-lit room hid it. Or at least, I hoped it did.
“Come on, Lucky.” I tugged on his hand as I started toward the last row of chairs. Our random conversations meant we were the only ones left who still had to take a seat.
And when the quartet began playing, it was magic.
The candles.
The eerie building.
The complete silence from the crowd.
All of it came together to create an experience I couldn’t put into words. It was mesmerizing and enchanting, haunting and beautifully tragic. I wasn’t one for big social plans, and I certainly didn’t date. Hell, I didn’t even take myself out to do anything. Work was my focus—my grounding force.
But sitting there, watching and listening, I couldn’t help but wonder how much I had missed out on. How many unknown events were out there that I could’ve enjoyed?
Next to me, Nash was peacefully enthralled by the experience. I found myself just staring and admiring him. The man looked good bathed in candlelight, and I made a mental note to come back to that later. I could buy candles in bulk because naked, he’d be breathtaking in candlelight.
He caught me watching him and smiled. God, I loved his smile. It did wicked things to my heart. Reaching over, he grabbed the leg of my chair and pulled me closer. Or tried to anyway. The chair made the most obscene scraping sound on the tile underneath us, and every single person in the place turned to stare at us. Nash grinned but didn’t look remotely sorry. I, on the other hand, offered an apologetic smile that no one was swayed by.
“You’re trouble, Lucky,” I muttered while the man did some awkward, hunched-over waddle in my direction as he lifted his chair off the floor.
“I want to sit next to my husband,” he retorted under his breath. He let out a quick huff, making himself comfortable next to me. His hand found a spot on my thigh, and he leaned over, lips brushing against my cheek. “Shut up, baby. You’re disturbing the peace.”
I opened my mouth to protest but quickly closed it because I wouldn’t get into a debate with him during the performance. His smile widened, and his attention drifted toward the musicians. As the music played, his fingerstapped against my inner thigh. His rhythm transitioned smoothly with each song as if he were a part of the entire performance. It was thoughtless and accurate. At least, it seemed accurate. I wasn’t versed in music the way he was, so I really didn’t know.
The weight and warmth of his hand, coupled with those little movements, had my skin tingling. I inched closer. Knees brushing against one another and shoulders bumping slightly, I rested my cheek on his shoulder. His head tilted against mine while he slid as close as feasibly possible in two crappy folding chairs.
It was nice—more than nice—to just sit there with him like that. Despite the room full of people, it was intimate and wonderful. Being with Nash like this was easy, and I treasured it.
