Free (Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief by Shira Anthony Page A

again. It just seemed like the right thing to say. Cary Redding is more complicated.”
    “But if he likes music, didn’t he recognize your name?” Aiden had stopped eating and had both elbows on the table, supporting his chin in his hands and just staring at Cary as though he had lost his mind.
    “Well… no… not really….”
    “You used that fake name? What is it?”
    “Connor.” Cary looked down at the mangled panini on his plate so Aiden wouldn’t see him squirm.
    “Shit, man. Why?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t want to be Cary Redding. I mean, if I had told him who I was, he might have expected me to be something I’m not.”
    “Like a successful musician?” Aiden shook his head.
    “No.” Cary was squirming now.
    “Like you deserve someone like him? You know… someone nice?” When Cary said nothing, Aiden continued, “That’s it, isn’t it? But you do deserve—”
    “Look, Aiden,” Cary interrupted, feeling suddenly very shaky, “I’ve gotta figure this out. It’s been a crappy few weeks. I haven’t exactly been at the top of my game. And I’m sure as hell not what you think I am.” Cary rubbed the bridge of his nose.
    Aiden frowned. “Okay. I’ll let it drop. For now, at least. So how long before the cast comes off? You gonna be able to play again?”
    “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
    “I wished you’d called me. I could’ve helped.”
    “I didn’t want to impose.”
    “I’d like you to impose. I’m your friend, remember? Your fucking best friend, last time I checked.”
    “Thanks,” Cary said. “You are. And you’re right, I should have called.” And for once, he meant it too.
    They parted an hour later, Aiden having extracted Cary’s promise they’d have lunch again in a week.
    Back at his apartment after dark, Cary lay in his bed, unable to sleep. He knew Aiden was right. What good was it doing to lie to Antonio? He stared up at the ceiling and watched the lights from the cars bounce across it.
    It’s not like you’re looking to marry the guy. So what difference does it make? He had given Antonio more than enough signals, and in two weeks, they hadn’t even kissed. And eventually Antonio would figure out what Cary really was.
    And then what? Why even bother seeing him again?
    As he finally drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the Milan morning, Cary was filled with a sense of uneasiness—an anxiety he couldn’t quite explain that lingered just out of his reach. Who was he fooling? He knew he’d see Antonio again regardless. The siren call was simply too powerful to resist.

Chapter 8

    H OME TO R OOST
     
     
    T HE day after his lunch with Aiden, and in spite of the nagging voice at the back of his mind that said he was in way over his head, Cary was seized with the brilliant idea of calling Antonio. Cary knew nothing about “dating” in any conventional sense of the word. He had never “dated.” Ever. And he was sure he sounded like an idiot.
    “Hey, Antonio. Just thought I’d… you know… say hello. I… ah… had a great time last week. At the circus, I mean, not afterward. Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I had a great time afterward too.” He paused, his cheeks hot, when he realized what he had just said. “I… ah… I’d like to see you again. When you have time. I know you’re probably busy. So… right… um… call me if you have a chance.”
    Total fucking idiot.
    He didn’t really expect Antonio to call him back, at least not right away. But Antonio left him a short message the same day saying he’d call again once he was back in town.
    Nearly a week passed without a call from Antonio, however, and Cary began to wonder if Antonio was a lost cause. He had probably come to his senses. Which would have been fine. Should have been fine, really. Only Cary realized that he no longer felt compelled to frequent his via Padova haunts, and even the nearby park seemed to hold no interest for his cock. He couldn’t get Antonio out of his