Free Aria by Shira Anthony Page A

agreed.
They lived in that apartment together for more than five years. The loft was the first place Sam ever considered home, a place where he could be himself and where he was loved unconditionally.
Sam closed the computer and set it on the coffee table.
Chapter 10
     
    A
IDEN led Sam back from the Louvre through the Jardin des Tuileries toward Place de la Concorde. Aiden had been to the Louvre many times before, but he’d enjoyed it more this time than any of the others. They’d spent most of the time wandering around the museum, not stopping for long in any of the exhibits, but chatting comfortably throughout their tour.
    As they walked on through the park, the obelisk rose high above the trees and the gravel crackled beneath their feet. Aiden felt a bit giddy as he watched children on bicycles weave in and out of the paths, laughing. He loved Paris this time of year, with its flowering gardens and trees. The smell of freshly cut grass caught the breeze and reminded him of the first time he’d come here, not knowing what to expect and entirely overwhelmed by the beauty of the city.
    “Last time I was here,” Sam said, “I spent two whole days at the Louvre. Nick brought his sketchbook, and I wandered from gallery to gallery, taking pictures. I’m pretty sure we closed the place both days.”
    Aiden couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s demeanor changed when he spoke of Nick. Sam wore a wistful expression and his voice was warm. Aiden felt a pang of something himself to see the look on Sam’s face. Envy, perhaps? Not that Aiden didn’t still think of Cam sometimes, but then again when he did think of Cam, the memories weren’t always good ones.
“So Nick was an artist?”
    Sam nodded. “A painter. Oils, mostly, although sometimes he worked in watercolor. Abstract modern paintings. Lots of color and texture.”
“Have you been to the Orangerie?”
    Sam laughed. “Spent an entire day there. Nicky was fascinated by the colors of Monet’s paintings. I think I fell asleep on one of the benches. Just about got kicked out by one of the museum guards.”
“I take it you’re not an artist, then?”
    “Hardly. But I learned to appreciate modern art. I’m always amazed by people like you.”
“Like me?”
“Artists, I mean. Musicians. People with talent.”
Aiden’s face warmed. “We’re not so special, really.”
Aiden always felt he didn’t deserve the attention. When he graduated from Indiana University, his father refused to come see him receive his diploma. “It’s not like you did anything but open your mouth,” he’d told Aiden. It was true. He’d sung his way through school while so many of his friends had worked their asses off.
“It’s a gift, Aiden.”
The statement was unequivocal, and Aiden smiled in response.
“Do you enjoy singing?”
“I love it. But not the applause or the fans.” Realizing how this sounded, Aiden added quickly, “I mean, I appreciate all that. Don’t get me wrong. But what I love the most is the music.”
“Really?” Sam stopped walking and looked at Aiden with obvious surprise.
“The best part is the first time I get to sing through the opera with the orchestra.”
“You mean in costume?”
“No. Usually in a pair of jeans.” When Sam looked uncomprehendingly at him, Aiden explained, “It’s called a Sitzprobe . The singers all sit in chairs on stage and sing through the music with the orchestra. There aren’t any costumes or sets; you don’t have to worry about blocking—where to move and when—you just sing. It’s a little like being in the middle of a recording, where the sound seems to come from all around you and you feel like you’re part of something amazing.”
Aiden blushed at the realization that he’d gotten a bit carried away with his description. “Sorry. I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”
“Never. It makes me wish I could feel that. Not that I know anything about music, but the way you describe it, I can almost imagine what it