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And that was that. I’d sit beside her every afternoon to complete it. Until we couldn’t write anymore.
“I don’t know this one,” Matthew said softly once I was done playing the unfinished melody.
“It’s a personal composition. Mommy and I started writing it but she died before we could finish it. And then I didn’t have the heart to finish it.”
“And now? What changed?”
“Well, I’m happier now. I have you. Ryan’s okay. A lot has changed.”
Matthew tucked loose hair behind my ear, kissing me softly on the cheek. Perhaps he could sense the sorrow in my heart from yearning for my mother. But even so, I was blessed to have him here, and I didn’t want it any other way.
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know yet,” I breathed. “Maybe I’ll think of the title once it’s done.”
“If I had known I’d met you in this lifetime, Reagan, maybe I would’ve put more effort into learning to play the piano.”
“You never learned to play?”
“I did the basics. Nursery rhymes, a little of Mozart,” he shared, his fingers moving perfectly over the keys. “But then I stopped and forgot about all of them.” He brought his right hand to the fifth octave and his fingers perfectly pressed the keys.
“Do you want me to teach you something?”
“You can’t teach me Clair de Lune in one sitting,” he joked, chuckling. And I laughed with him. “But if it would make you happy, I’m going to try and learn.”
“It’s not Clair de Lune,” I said. And I showed him the five keys to press for the octave he was in. “C, D, E, F, G. Those are the keys you need, okay?” We practiced a few more times until he perfected it. And I clapped my hands at him.
“That’s it?” He beamed like he had just learned the most difficult song of all time.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I want you to keep playing that.” As he played the melody part of the song, I went to match it with the base. And I never thought I’d be playing Heart and Soul by Hoagy Carmichael with someone who meant the world to me.
“Maybe I should just be on the sidelines watching you play,” he laughed when he missed a key and we stopped. Joy rushed through my bloodstream at the short time we had shared the piano.
“And fall in love with me over again?”
“Again and again.” He smiled as he slowly lowered his lips to mine.
EPILOGUE
Matthew
7 Months Later
The moon glinted against the ocean as I listened to Reagan play Frédéric Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat Major, Op. 9, No. 2 in a silver dress that rained down from her waist to the stage below. And the crowd of people who were dining in the three-story hall, all looking at her, listening to her tangle them in her web of music.
I wore a tailored suit and a necktie to match her dress as I sat at a table amidst the throng of guests.
The atmosphere was filled with an air of elegance, and the clinking of silverware against fine china filled the background of Reagan’s soft tunes, a sign that the passengers were enjoying dinner.
She played like an angel on the stage, the light casting a low, seductive glow on her hair. My girlfriend. My Reagan. I had never seen a talent like hers.
So did my friend apparently, because Adrian Blackwood had been so mesmerized with the way she played during the Global Business Gala that he invited her to perform on his cruise ship.
And that was exactly where we were.
It was a one-month cruise to Europe for the month of February, and Reagan was going to play every night. She was ecstatic at the chance and loved every second of it. Because she knew in her veins that that was what she wanted to be doing for the rest of her life.
She was slowly and surely making a name for herself. A lot of my business colleagues had called me to ask about her availability and if she would be willing to play for them in establishments, at their homes, and at their parties. If Reagan could have done so, she’d have said yes to them all.
