One person started clapping, and everyone joined in.
Mir leaned over and indicated a beaming couple sitting a few tables away. They waved to the crowd.
“And he’d like to dedicate a song to his wife,” Killian added when the crowd quieted down some. “Now this is the last song I’m doing, ’cause I’m starting to get hungry.”
Everyone laughed.
We sat down. And a mellow melody I didn’t recognize started. I tapped Mir’s shoulder. “What’s this one?”
She looked at me like I’d come from Mars. “How can you not know this? It’s ‘Wonderful Tonight.’”
“I don’t do music that much,” I said.
“Ever hear of Eric Clapton?”
I thought. “The name kind of does ring a bell, but…”
Mir continued to stare, but then Killian began singing a slow love song. It surprised me that he handled it so well, because he was in a rock band, and I assumed a rocker wouldn’t be able to sing something like this. But his voice was so full of intimate longing that it sent the same kind of longing through me. Okay, now I totally understood why women fell for rock stars and dressed as skimpily as possible and exercised nine hundred hours a day while eating two leaves of lettuce.
Because if I had a chance with a man who sang like Killian and made me feel like this, I would do the same.
When the song ended, the cheering and clapping were deafening. Killian took a bow and blew kisses, basking in the moment.
Suddenly, he turned and looked directly at me, a boyish grin on his lips. In the midst of the tumult, my heart galloped harder and I swore I could hear it thudding, even over the crowd. If I were more fanciful, I might’ve thought it was the sound of myself tumbling into a major crush.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Killian
I jumped off the stage and made my way back to the table, the performance high still rushing through me. Being on the stage and having a crowd go wild was always a rush. During that moment we were one, connected to each other through the magic of music.
The appetizers Mir ordered had just come out—Sue probably delayed them a little out of consideration for me.
Mir high-fived me. “Still got the power, bro!” she said.
“Thanks.” Sitting down, I glanced at Emily. She’d said she didn’t do music, but it looked like she was having fun. I’d been able to see her smile from the stage, but she could’ve done that to be polite. She was the only woman I knew who considered my drumming “noise pollution.”
“So. Did you have fun?” I asked, trying to sound careless.
She lifted her chin and gazed at me. “Amazing,” she said. “You were amazing.”
The light in her green eyes was electric. My mind got wiped clean of every thought except one—she is so beautiful. Beautiful wasn’t enough—she was brilliant. I wanted to freeze the moment, etch her like this in my memory forever.
I wanted to kiss her and see her look at me with that same shining light. And dance with her all night, our hands linked, fingers threading fingers until our hearts galloped in unison and we were both breathless, our blood rushing fast and hot.
Emily flushed, but didn’t look away.
“Oh my gosh, it’s Yve! I gotta go say hi,” Mir squealed. The smile on Emily’s face shifted to a curious look, and the moment broke.
Thanks, Mir. That was twice she’d broken the mood.
My sister jumped up and ran to see her best friend from high school. They hugged and hopped around like overexcited teenagers, looking like they were planning a sleepover. Which might work out better, since that’d leave me and Emily alone until at least tomorrow.
I pushed the chicken wings toward Emily. “This isn’t much of a dinner. If you want, I can whip up something more substantial.” Say yes. Come over.
“Thanks
, but I don’t want to trouble you. This is fine.” She picked up a piece and delicately bit into it. “Mmm…good. I can’t believe I’ve never come here. Not bad for a quick meal.” She took a French fry.