Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(14)

“It’s just my mom and me.”

She doesn’t have a father? “What about your old man?”

“That’s a long story.”

Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask since I’m unwilling to share much about my family, but I want to know her story. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

She looks like she’s settling in for a long explanation. “My mom was a rising musician when she got pregnant with me. My sperm donor was a famous country music star. They met when my mom signed with his label.” She shrugs. “He was married so they started having an affair. His wife didn’t take too well to finding out about her husband’s pregnant mistress, especially since she was pregnant too. I have a half-brother I’ve never met and he’s almost the exact same age as I am. Isn’t that charming?”

She lifts her wine glass to her mouth. “So, as you can see, I wasn’t joking when I said I had daddy issues.”

“That’s why you immediately asked me if I was married.”

She’s pushing food around her plate. “It’s only one of the reasons.”

“You didn’t eat much. I thought you weren’t scared to eat on a date.”

She shrugs again. “Nervous stomach, you could say.”

“If you’re finished, you want to get out of here?”

“Sure.”

We leave through the same revolving doors we used the previous night, but under very different circumstances. We stand on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant and Daniel pulls to the curb from across the street where he’s been waiting. He gets out to open the door, but I don’t have a clue where I’d have him drive us since I’m unfamiliar with Wagga Wagga. “It’s a beautiful night. Do you feel like walking?”

“Sure.”

I tell Daniel, “I’ll call when we’re ready to be picked up.”

He shuts the door. “Of course, sir.”

“Which way? Lady’s choice.”

She glances in both directions and shrugs as she points to her right. “Always go right and you’ll never go wrong.”

We start walking and I remember the shoes she’s wearing. She looks great in them, but there is no way they will be comfortable for walking. “Those heels are sexy as hell but don’t they hurt your feet?”

She laughs. “I’m used to wearing high heels. I’ll be okay. But it’s very considerate of you to think of my feet.”

I’m not sure if she’s being honest. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so please tell me if they hurt and I will call Daniel to pick us up.”

“I will.” She surprises me by looping her arm through mine. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers and breakfast you sent. Addison and I were almost drunk by ten o’clock. It was great.”

Flowers and breakfast were nothing compared to what I would give her if she agreed to be with me. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked the champagne. What about Australia? Are you enjoying it?”

“I like it very much, but I can’t get use to the idea of Christmas during summer.”

I had forgotten December is winter in the US. “I’ve never thought of it being any other way.”

“Will you spend Christmas with your family outside of Sydney?”

Her questions aren’t identifying, but they still make me uncomfortable. “Yes. Everyone gathers at my parents’ on Christmas Eve and we spend Christmas Day together. It makes for an interesting night with my brother’s kids waiting for Santa to come since the oldest is three now.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

I can tell she’s an only child. “It is fun for about two minutes, and then everyone is sick of each other.”

She stops dead in her tracks and places her palms against the glass window of a store. “Look at that. I think it’s a Martin D-45.”

I inspect the guitar on the stand in the window and see nothing special about it. It just looks like any other to me. “I take it that’s good?”

I think she might be amused by my question when I see her grin. “Yes, that’s very good. I’ve dreamed of having one forever.”

“Why haven’t you gotten one?”

She gazes into the window and reminds me of a child wishing for a toy at Christmas. “Because a D-45 costs about twelve grand.”

“Shouldn’t you have one if you’re going to be a successful musician?”

“Sure, I need one, but that doesn’t mean I can afford it. I have my mom’s guitar to get me by until I can afford one. It’s older than I am, but it’s still good.” Her hands are still splayed against the storefront glass. “She’s never told me so, but I think the sperm donor gave it to her. Sometimes I catch her playing it and she looks like she’s been crying.”

She wasn’t kidding about having daddy issues.

“I’ll have a Martin one day,” she sighs as she steps away from the storefront.

We continue our walk until we come to the next street and I see the sign for Stout Avenue. “The Blues Club shouldn’t be far from here. You want to swing by and see what’s happening?”

“Sure. Which way do you think it is?”

“One way to find out.” I pull out my phone and use an app to find it several blocks to the north. “It’s six blocks that way.”