Page 243 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

Aria’s posture and focus matched Leighton’s to a T. The child inhaled a slow breath, then appeared to morph into Harper as she warmed up with a rolling arpeggio scale. Hand over hand, the child worked her way up and down the keys in a graceful sway. Aria mesmerized everyone in the room as her brief warmup ended, and she played a delicate melody. Elegant in its simplicity, he listened as the child hummed the first few bars.

“This song is called ‘Brave Heart Muscles,’” she revealed, repeating the intro as she spoke.

Déjà vu hit him like a punch to the gut.

Aria sounded so much like her mother when Leighton would introduce a song to the audience.

“Sometimes life is scary. Sometimes you feel alone,” she began, dropping the lyrics softly like a feather floating to the ground.

He wrapped his arm around Harper’s shoulders. He needed to anchor himself to this moment. And he was glad he’d done it because he nearly fall on his ass as Aria sang on.

He knew the kid had perfect pitch, but her talent went beyond mechanics. She melded with the melody, becoming one with the music like her mother and her aunt.

“But your brave heart muscles are stronger than your bones.”

Brave heart muscles?

And then he remembered Aria telling them about how she’d come up with the term on the first day of school.

“They’re there when you are worried or when you feel afraid. Your brave heart muscles help you out when you’re scared you’ll get a bad grade.”

Harper leaned into him.

“But if you get stuck, and run out of luck, don’t feel like a creep. You can ask your aunt or uncle for help unless it’s just your uncle because your aunt ate too many lollipops and needs to sleep.”

This kid.

“So, if you’re frustrated or angry or if you’re feeling blue. Find the people you love and trust and let your brave heart muscles work to help to get you through.I think that’s what mom would say. And my daddy would agree, and that’s all the words I have in this, my first whole song written by Aria Paige-Grant. That’s me.”

He closed his eyes as the endearing lyrics washed over him.

“Uncle Landy’s doing it now,” Aria remarked.

He opened his eyes and blinked away the bleariness.

Why were his eyes bleary?

“Doing what?” he asked and cleared his clogged throat.

Harper patted his cheek. “You’re crying.”

“Like a baby,” Aria added, not holding back. “You’re crying like Harper cried when I told her we were taking her to Italy.”

“A beautiful song can do that, Aria,” a misty-eyed Bess commented.

Tomás pressed his hand to his heart and knelt next to the child. “What a gift it is to hear you sing. Like sculpting, music is art. Art is connection, and it reveals the truth inside the artist’s heart. An artist cannot hide behind a mask. An artist cannot pretend. Artists take risks and reveal their soul, and that kind of art is what turns a song into an experience.”

An artist cannot hide behind a mask.

A grating uneasiness came over him, and a question formed in his mind.

Was he still hiding?

He knew the answer. He felt it scratch in the darkest parts of his heart but ignored the prickly sensation.

“I did that?” Aria asked, wide-eyed. “I revealed my soul?”

Tomás grinned through his bushy beard. “Indeed, you did.”

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