Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(31)

“Probably true.” Connor’s smile thinned out. “Another time.”

A silence fell and stretched until the ma?tre d’ arrived. He took us up a winding marble staircase to the uppermost floor, where a rooftop terrace overlooked all of Amherst. The sun was just starting to sink in the west, casting a golden hue over the rolling greenery.

“Kind of an old person’s place, yeah?” Connor said in a low voice.

I tore my eyes away from the view and saw most of the terrace tables were occupied by couples, all older than us by a good thirty years.

“Now I remember why we ran out to Roxie’s after dinner with my parents.”

“I thought you liked it here,” I said. “You told me the sunset wasn’t to be missed.”

“Oh, right. That’s just what I heard, but never seen it myself.” He turned his beaming smile up a notch. “It’ll be a first for me, too.”

The moment smoothed out and settled warmly between us, and we took up our menus.

The waiter appeared to take our drink orders.

“Do you have pear cider?” Connor asked the waiter with a wink for me.

I rolled my eyes and laughed as the waiter apologized for the lack of cider on the premises.

“A bottle of red wine then?” Connor asked.

“White, please. And only a glass.”

He ordered a glass of sauvignon blanc for me and a craft beer for him.

“Just the one,” he said. “Since I’m driving.”

The waiter checked our IDs, then retreated.

Connor leaned back in his chair. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?”

“Between Yancy’s and the track meet, I can’t remember what you said about your major, except that it sounded complicated as hell.”

“Double major in poli-sci and social anthropology.”

“Right. What are you planning to do with that? You mentioned going to Harvard for grad school?”

“I hope to. I’m going to petition to create my own specialized major with an emphasis on a specific area of humanitarian work.”

Connor blew out his cheeks. “Wow. Ambitious.”

I ran the tip of my finger over the rim of my water glass. “Well, I haven’t picked my emphasis yet, but Harvard says they’re open to it. I have to send the project in when I apply, so I have only this year to figure it out.”

“Sounds like a crap-ton of work, whatever you choose.”

“It is, but it’ll be worth it. I want to take on a major issue in a meaningful way.”

“That’s cool.”

The waiter came back with our drinks, and Connor ordered for us, filet for me and prime rib for him.

He held up his beer to my wine glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I said, disappointed he didn’t offer a toast as romantic as the text that brought us here.

Connor took a pull from his beer, set it down, then leaned back in his chair.

“So what else do you do, Autumn, when you’re not figuring out how to save the world?”

“That takes up a lot of time,” I said, then laughed. “Studying, I mean. And I work at the Panache Blanc bakery. You know it? On Pleasant?”

“Sure,” he said. “Wes goes there some nights to study.”

“I work the morning shifts.”

His shoulders twitched a little. “What time does that start?”

“Six a.m.”

Connor mimed being stabbed in the heart. “Six a.m. every morning?”

I laughed. “You sound like my roommate. I have Saturdays off but I still wake up early. It’s a habit from growing up on a farm.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I like to read. And I listen to music. I love alternative music. Growing up, we didn’t hear much of it. The first time I heard New Order, I was ten years behind everyone else.” I smiled. “Now I’m all caught up.”

“Cool, cool,” Connor said. His fingers drummed the table. The fidgety rhythm and the murmur of other patrons’ conversations filled the silence between us.

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

“One brother,” Connor said. “Older.”

“I have a brother too,” I said. “Younger. A senior in high school.”

“Jefferson’s at Harvard Business School,” Connor said. “He’s about to graduate with honors. He’ll probably work with my mother in the Senate, then run for office himself some day.”

His darkened expression told me I’d blundered onto the wrong topic. Being unhappy, I realized, was unnatural to Connor. Like a too-tight suit he itched to take off as soon as possible.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He glanced up and seemed to realize he’d been frowning. “No, sorry. It’s great. He’s on track to make a difference in the world. Meanwhile, I want to open a sports bar. My parents remind me of this. Frequently.”

“They put a lot of pressure on you?”

“They’re high-profile, so they want their kids to be high-profile too.” He shook his head, took another pull of beer and shot me a wink. “I’m not trying to save the world like some people I know.”

“I think we all have our own paths to follow,” I said. “Mine is to go out in the world and bring some relief to some people. I hope, anyway. Yours is to give them a place to come to. A haven.”