Free Christopher and Jaime (Pianos and Promises #1) by Jennifer Peel Page B

eat.”
    “I’m not really that hungry.”
    “Too bad.” He reached for my hand and pulled me all the way to the cafeteria. “Sit,” he ordered while he went off to grab us some food.
    I stared at the journal while I waited for him. Maybe I should have never opened the wretched thing. Of course I shouldn’t have; it was meant to be private.
    Beck returned with an assortment of desserts and two bottles of water.
    I raised my eyebrow. “You consider this lunch?”
    “This is bare-your-soul food.” He handed me a fork.
    I pulled the carrot cake towards me. “Thank you.”
    He took the large piece of chocolate cake. “So what deep, dark secret did you discover whilst snooping?”
    I set my fork down. My stomach was churning. “Now who’s being nosy?”
    “Love, I know every move Christopher makes. I own his life, but you, you own his heart.”
    I shook my head. “No, I don’t. He gave that away to Bianca.”
    He waved his hand around. “Please. He may have lost his head over her, but you, darling, you have the ability to destroy him.”
    “I don’t think so.” I tried a small bite of the carrot cake. It wasn’t half bad.
    “Let’s start with another question. Tell me why you love him.”
    I looked up from my cake into Beck’s green eyes. Such passion lived inside of them. I don’t know why English men get a bad rap for being emotionless. Beck was quite the romantic. I sighed. “There are a hundred different reasons, but none of them matter now.”
    “That’s rubbish.”
    I felt tears forming, but I held them at bay. “When we were growing up, he always saved a seat for me at lunch. And during gym, when he was the team captain, which was more often than not, he chose me first, even though the best I could hope for was to not fall flat on my face.”
    Beck chuckled.
    “And he emailed me every day when I lived in Paris. I was homesick and unwilling to admit it, but it was like he knew. Not even my family communicated with me so frequently. He would write things like, ‘Please don’t become like the French women who don’t shave their legs.’ Did you know Chris plays the piano, too?”
    Beck grinned, but shook his head no.
    “It’s true. His Gran taught him along with me, but the only time he would play was when we did duets.” My favorite was “West Side Story Medley.” He would try his best to trip me up, or grab my hand while my fingers zipped across the keys. The thought reminded me of what I had just read. The tears crept up again. “He sold her piano. She wanted me to have it, but he put it on the auction block for Bianca. I loved that piano and the memories it created, and he gave it away, just like me. He only cares about himself.”
    Beck sat up, business like, and brushed off his sleeves. “Now, I don’t know about any piano, and I agree Chris is an arrogant arse, but I can’t let you lie. Mind you, I’m not making excuses for his neglect of Allie and you. I’ve warned him the long days were going to catch up to him, but you have no idea the pressure he’s been under. I know he didn’t want to worry you, but when one of the investors for the Addison deal fell through, he bought in with his own money. And it’s taking longer to get tenants to fill the spaces than we originally projected, making the other investors jumpy. Chris has been wining and dining potential tenants every night, and during the day tracking down any possible lead, all while trying to sell and lease other properties. You don’t know how many times he’s commented that he’s put his family’s finances in jeopardy.”
    I sat back, astounded by the news. I thought he was exaggerating when he wrote about possible bankruptcy. “Why didn’t he say anything? He knows I don’t care about how much money he makes.”
    “But he does, and he cares for you. I have a feeling if you dig deeper into that journal of his, you might get some more insight. You owe that to yourself and Allie.” He was protective of his