Page 142 of The Catch

Food is prepared and in the oven for the next few hours. I clean and put everything away as Saint gets the hang of the music piece. The sound grows inconfidence as he repeats the motions over and over again. It's clear he's putting the same devotion and discipline into it as he does everything else.

I come close to him. "Do you want anything to drink? I thought I might make us mate."

I kiss him on the cheek. He doesn't stop playing.

"In a little bit." He smiles, dimples and all. "Sit with me?"

I cock my head but do as he asks.

"Would it ruin your practice if I play a few notes?" I ask.

"Join me, please."

He stops working on the piece, and starts on random chords. I imitate him as if he were teaching me what he's learned.

"You smell divine," I say.

"You look beautiful, mi divina."

We're in everyday clothes, but even on a random Tuesday Saint is fashionable. He wears black pants and a burgundy t-shirt. The latter has a deep V to show off his chain, and painted black details on his shoulders. They're made to resemble lace and large enough to look like the epaulettes of a military uniform.

He keeps on playing. It's not a melody, but random little pieces. I continue to echo the movements he makes. The results should be dissonant, but they're not. They fit, somehow.

We smile at each other. Playfulness blooms.

"Why are we sitting here?" I ask.

We've had a couple of squabbles. I wouldn't call them more of an argument than when Aidan showed up the last time, and Saint told me of his feelings earlier than he'd planned. Rather than making me doubt what we have, they've made me feel better. Stronger. We know how to resolve the issues. It may even be our superpower.

And I don't have to fake being someone I'm not to make things better.

"Remember when you first came here? You asked me to let you pay rent." He snorts.

"I remember. You said you'd invoice me."

"I never did."

"Don't tell me you're thinking of invoicing me now? It's a little late for that, bud."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I thought of invoicing you, Amy, but I'm not."

"What would you even have put there?"

"Something about a lease agreement, then a discount for being cute."

"Right, right."

"But then I thought, how do I put a price on being happy with you? On the life-changing months we had back then? If you hadn't come here that morning…"

He plays a couple more notes, both hands on the left side of the piano. They're deep and ominous.

"I don't like to think about that," I say.

"Me, neither. Every time I think about what could have gone wrong…"

I put my head on his shoulder. "It's okay. We're here now."

He plays a few more notes. From left to right, they turn lighter and brighter.