Beautiful Mistake(56)

I felt myself beaming. Who knew I could beam? “I just need to change my purse, and I’ll be ready in a minute.”

In my bedroom, I fixed my lipstick, applying a fresh layer to my kiss-swollen lips, before grabbing a tiny, black, beaded clutch from the closet and tossing in the essentials.

“Ready?”

“You don’t have any pictures on the wall of you when you were little.”

That’s because there weren’t a lot of good times I want to remember. “There aren’t very many.” I shrugged. “You know, second child and all.”

Caine looked at me. “Do you have one? I’d like to see what you looked like when you were little.”

“My sister has most of them. But I can probably dig a few up.”

He nodded.

Outside, I was surprised to find he hadn’t driven. He’d hired a town car to take us, and when we approached, a driver hopped out and opened the back door. I really felt like Cinderella then.

“A car? You went all out. But I’ll let you in on a little secret—you were already going to get lucky tonight. You didn’t have to impress me.”

Caine smiled, but it felt sort of off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he just didn’t seem like himself. Our conversations were normal; any person looking in from the outside would see nothing but a couple on their way to a great night out. Yet, I had a pensive feeling for some reason.

On the way to the Met, we talked about school and work. I chalked my uneasiness up to nerves, or maybe things changing a little now that we weren’t fighting our togetherness. Maybe it was just a new feeling of being settled. I wasn’t sure.

Inside the theatre, we had a half hour before the show was to start, so we went to the lobby bar and ordered drinks. I ordered my usual diet soda, and Caine ordered a double scotch.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “No reason.”

After he polished off the first scotch, he went back for a second. Just because I generally refrained from drinking didn’t mean I frowned upon others partaking. Yet, once again, the two doubles and Caine’s quietness while we waited seemed a bit off.

When the lights flickered, the usher showed us to our seats. Looking around the theatre, I told myself again that I probably just felt like a fish out of water. Although I liked the music, the thought of going to an actual opera had always felt pretentious. The place was a designer emporium—I smirked, thinking there wouldn’t be any bootleg T-shirts sold outside afterward like the last show I went to.

Caine must have noticed me eyeing the people around us. He leaned in. “If I take off my jacket and lay it across your lap, I can probably finger you and get you to sing along during the opening scene.”

The woman taking her seat on the other side of Caine looked his way, so I shot him a warning glare and whispered, “Shhh. Keep your voice down.”

He smirked, and when the lights went down at the start of the show, he stood and took off his jacket, giving me a wink. To be safe, I clasped my hand with his when he sat back down.

Music filled the air almost immediately, and it gripped me, catching me off guard. It sucked me in from the first note and didn’t spit me out until the very end. It overpowered my senses—the orchestra, amplified voices, the beauty of the theatre and costumes. I’d expected to enjoy the experience, but I hadn’t expected to be moved to tears.

I was speechless when it was over. We walked to the waiting town car hand in hand.

Caine squeezed my fingers when we were inside. “So, what did you think?”

“I think it was the most magical thing I’ve ever experienced.”

He rubbed his thumb on the top of my hand. “The first time is definitely something else.”

“Thank you for taking me. I’m glad I got to experience that with you.”

Caine smiled. “What did you like best?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how to explain it. It made me feel something I’ve never really experienced. Consumed with emotions—like I couldn’t feel or see anything else.”

His eyes were tender. “I know the feeling.”

I’d felt Caine watching me instead of the show at times, but I was too invested to peel my own eyes from the stage.

“As odd as it might sound, I think what I experienced was love in some form. At least the feeling that being in love gives you—that all-consuming and full feeling, you know?”

“I thought you said you’d never been in love.”

It was in that moment that it hit me. I was figuring it out because I was falling for Caine. Just like the opera, he’d overwhelmed me since the day I met him. It was an inexplicable connection, although I was afraid to admit my realization out loud.

I shrugged. “I’ve read about it.”

Caine’s lip did that little twitch thing I hadn’t seen in a while. “You’ve read about it, huh?”

It felt like he could see through me, so I changed the subject and rounded back to his original question about what I liked best.

“I think my favorite scene was the one where the mother dies. That’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“What did you like about it?”

“The way her husband sang afterward. There was so much pain and emotion in his voice that I just knew he would never find another love in his life.” I covered my heart with my hand, feeling choked up just thinking about that scene. “It reminded me of Umberto and Lydia—the devotion she has for him. At least they had more than fifty years together, but this guy was so young, and the love of his life was gone. It was heartbreaking, but beautiful.”