We’ve planned out a few songs that I’ll be playing solo.A few we’ll do together—me on guitar, her on piano.And then a few favorites for Mina that there’s no way in hell either of us are replicating.The straight-up soundtrack will have to do.
So far, I’m the only one singing, though, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
I let the moment sit—let the quiet stretch between us.The air feels heavier than it should, charged with something neither of us is willing to acknowledge.I should probably let it go.Hell, I should probably just focus on Mina’s music, like she clearly wants me to.
But I don’t.
Instead, I shift the guitar on my lap and pluck out a familiar tune—the melody of a song we used to mess around with years ago, back before everything got complicated.
Anna’s fingers tighten on her phone, her eyes flicking up for just a second before she quickly looks away.But I see it.That flicker of recognition.
I keep playing, slow and easy.
“You remember this one?”I ask, schooling my voice to remain casual.
She exhales through her nose again.“Of course, I remember it.”
“Sing it with me.”
She shakes her head.“We’re not doing this, Joel.”
I grin, nudging her with my elbow.“Oh, we absolutely are.”
She doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t join in, either.
I slow the tempo, making the notes drag, waiting her out.
Finally, she rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath before shifting forward in her seat.Then, in a voice quieter than I was expecting, she sings the opening line.
It’s not perfect.It’s hesitant, almost careful, but damn, it still hits me straight in the chest.
I ease into the harmony, our voices blending like they always have—effortless, natural.Like muscle memory kicking in between the two of us.Even after all these years—through voice changes and god knows what else.It’s still there.
The magic.
The song fades to a close, and for a second, neither of us speaks.The only sound is the low hum of the city beyond the window, the distant buzz of traffic, the faintest sound of her steady breath.
She’s looking at me now, something unreadable in her gaze.Her fingers tap against her knee—light, restless.
“You still sound good,” I tell her.
She snorts, shaking her head.“You act like that’s a surprise.”
“Not a surprise,” I admit.“Just nice to hear again.”
Something flickers across her face, too quick for me to catch.She looks down, tracing the rim of her phone case with the tip of her finger.
“I should go,” she says, but she doesn’t make any move to leave.“I have a ton of work to do.”
I set the guitar aside and lean back on my hands.“You know, I was thinking…”
Her gaze snaps up.“That’s dangerous.”
I smirk.“Debatable.”
She waits, clearly wary.
I let the pause stretch just enough to make her squirm, then say, “What if we added a song?”