Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(52)

As we walked in, I was instantly annoyed at the sight of Josh behind the bar. I chose to ignore him and asked Bo to grab me a beer while I found a table. I watched Bo and Josh talk for a minute; Josh even cracked a smile. Bo nodded back in my direction and then stayed at the bar while Josh headed toward me. What the hell? As Josh got closer I straightened in my chair and could feel my nerves tense. I was not in the mood for another round of name-calling. He took a seat next to me and I raised my eyebrows, signaling him to get on with it.

“You’re looking better,” I said snidely. He didn’t acknowledge my sarcasm before he began to apologize.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you last night, and this morning. After you yelled at me, it hit me - I can’t live without Monica. Look what happened to me after 48 hours away from her.” Josh shook his head and looked to the floor. “She hasn’t talked to me since I left her apartment this morning, but I think she’s coming here tonight and I really need to talk to her Ember; I need to get her back-I’m such an ass.” His jaw tightened as he cursed himself.

“Yes, Josh, you are. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You were drunk and hurting, but I went into defense mode for Monica. I’ll text her, but if she’s not ready that’s not my fault - are we clear?” Josh nodded and I sighed as I texted Monica.

Me: Hey. At Finnegan’s-Josh is working. He’s on bended knee telling me how badly he needs to talk to you. Judging by the look on his face I’d say you should give him a few minutes.

Monica: Boys are dumb-be there in a while.

“She’ll be here in a bit,” I said flatly.

“Thank you.” Josh gave my forearm a squeeze before heading to the stage to introduce Bo.

Bo sat down on the center stool. I noticed the second stool to his left and concluded I’d be singing with him again at some point. He spoke his thanks in to the microphone.

Swiftly, a low-toned melody drowned out any lingering applause garnished by the patrons of Finnegan’s. My senses labored in slow motion as I lifted my eyes to the stage. Bo was looking down at his hands as they floated across the guitar that was producing a lullaby-my lullaby. Holy . . . I could almost see the red in my own cheeks as I watched him, up on stage, playing the song he had transcribed only this morning.

When he finished one line of the wordless melody, everyone clapped politely as my cheeks stung with what I was sure was crimson.

“Thank you, I just started working on that this morning. A beautiful woman played it for me.” He smiled while looking at me across the bar and my breathing increased. “Ember will you come up?” I felt faint when he said my name, knowing that all of Finnegan’s now knew I was the ‘beautiful woman’ who played that song.

“That was lovely,” I said as I reached the stage and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the crowd. They responded with requisite “oohs” and “ahs” as I settled down on the stool. “What are we going to sing?”

Bo leaned his head away from me slightly as that sexy smile of his graced his face. He ignored me and started strumming the lullaby again. I stared, confused, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and all the air left my body. Monica stood there with an impish grin on her face - holding my guitar.

“What the hell?” My response produced a rumble of laughter from the crowd, and from Bo.

“I picked it up on my way here - I was on my way when you texted,” Monica whispered, unable to contain her smile.

Shaking the daze from my head, I absentmindedly reached for the guitar and slung it over my shoulder.

“Come on,” Bo urged, and the crowd clapped.

I took a deep breath, the desert in my throat was thankful that I wouldn’t be singing, and closed my eyes. I kept them closed long enough to regulate my breathing. Fleeing from their hiding place, my eyes opened to see Bo staring at me, perhaps questioning his move to surprise me with the guitar. I wasn’t upset; this was the most romantic thing that I’d ever witnessed and it was happening to me. I gave him a reassuring smile and joined in seamlessly. It was the first time I’d ever performed with the guitar, but I relaxed after just one line; beacons of light and exuberance shone from my core, highlighting the awestruck crowd.

“Keep playing that - don’t stop,” Bo said, as I focused on the task quite literally at hand.

In a second I heard a higher melody that harmonized perfectly with what I was playing. I looked over at Bo and he cautioned a proud grin as he played this beautiful compliment.

“I wrote this part today. For you.” he said in to the microphone and the crowd clapped loudly.

I stopped hearing the applause long before it ceased. My eyes blurred with tears; I begged my fingers to hold on to the notes they knew. Bo wrote music for me. Music is the original love letter, and Bo Cavanaugh was reciting his to me for all of Finnegan’s to witness. It is as public a proclamation of love as one can receive and each chord he played had a direct line to one of my heart strings.

There weren’t any lyrics, but Bo intermittently hummed a husky-sweet melody in to the microphone, as if he were trying to work out lyrics in his head. This was surely more beautiful than words could ever be. I saw my parents do this regularly when I was a child; at night after I went to bed they would stay up and just play music with each other. My dad would strum something and my mom would respond with her voice, the piano, or her own stringed instrument. I would peek at them out on the porch from my bedroom window but they never noticed; they were lost in each other the entire time. It filled my heart with such joy then, and now I could feel it first handed as it sent me through the stratosphere.