Free This Changes Everything by Gretchen Galway Page B

dread.
    “So, who won the piano?” she asked.
    “Let’s go see.”
    “Where?”
    “They mark the winners and the highest bids on the sheet. It’s fun to see what they went for.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, a platonic gesture that shouldn’t have made her shiver.
    They returned to the space where they’d seen the silent auction, but the door was closed and all the tables with the winning bids were lined up outside with a dozen or so people looking at the results.
    “Checkout is in the lobby,” a woman in a dove-gray dress said, looking them over. “If you’re a winner, bring the tag to the register and we’ll give you a receipt.”
    “Thanks, but I’m not a winner,” Cleo said.
    “Sure you are,” Sly said in her ear.
    Shaking off another shiver, she searched the posters and tablet displays, but didn’t see one for the piano. “The last bid I saw was way over what it was worth. I’m curious to see how high it went.”
    “I bet it’s still in the room.” Sly gave her a meaningful look and moved toward the door. When the woman in the gray dress was looking the other way, he turned the handle, pushed, and signaled for Cleo to follow.
    “You rebel,” she said, hurrying past him into the room. This was what she loved about him. He was fun.
    He closed the door, enveloping them in darkness. Only the moon and the city lights outside illuminated the room. At the far end, the grand piano sat in the shadows, dark and alone.
    “It looks lonely,” Cleo said. “I think it would rather be at the party.”
    “Why don’t you try it out? Make it feel better?”
    “You didn’t buy it for me or anything, right?” she asked, suddenly worried he had.
    “Cleo, don’t say that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I would’ve loved to buy it for you, but I figured you’d never accept it.”
    She nodded. “Totally true.”
    “But you thought I might.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I should have. Sneak it into your apartment when you aren’t looking.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Where would it go? It’s bigger than my living room.”
    “That’s not saying much.”
    “Don’t insult my home, mogul boy.”
    Clapping his hands together, he walked deeper into the room. “All right, piano woman. Why don’t you play us a song?”
    She looked around at the stacked chairs in a ring facing the windows. “It looks like they’re getting ready for another event.”
    “Looks like they’re not here.”
    Why not? It would delay the moment they went back to their room. She walked over, sat down, lifted the lid, and lightly caressed the keys first. “It’s not new.”
    “The poster said it was just a stand-in for the donation. This one is always here.”
    She played a chord, sending rich notes into the darkness. Then she began to play in earnest, loud enough to feel the vibrations in her chest, her arms, her legs. Tension drained out of her. Whatever was bothering her, music lifted her out, above, and up into that space beyond reality where she could recognize her own insignificance and touch, for just a moment, the vastness of the universe.
    Until she felt Sly’s presence behind her. Her hands stilled, and her last chord faded away.
    She waited for him to say something, joke about her forgetting the rest of the song, but he was silent.
    Oh God . Her heart thudded against her ribs, more in step with a disco beat than the dreamy sonata she’d been playing.
    Was she imagining this thing between them? Years of nothing, and now…
    “Cleo.” His voice was rough.
    Frozen, she closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Frantically she searched her memories for something silly and embarrassing that would return him to his Friend Box. She would stuff him inside, close the lid, lock it, and throw the key over the balcony outside this room and onto the rocky cliffs below.
    He touched her hair. Softly, just a graze. “Cleo,” he said again.
    “What?”
    “You know what.”
    Shaking her head, she