“When it comes to music,” she was saying, starting to rise from the piano bench, “I plead guilty as charged.”
She moved gracefully and he watched her, much as he might watch a bird in flight, appreciating every move and wanting to see more. He had a hunch she would dance almost as beautifully as she played, if only she could feel secure enough in her surroundings.
She offered him a cool drink and he followed her into the kitchen, watching as she efficiently reached for the glasses, the ice, the bottles of flavored water, without missing a beat. The space was small and compact and she obviously knew where everything was. Still, her confident speed impressed him.
“Do you have everything memorized?” he asked her, then wondered if she would be offended at his bringing up her blindness.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he began clumsily, then stopped, realizing he was only making things worse.
She turned towards him, shaking her head and half laughing. “Let’s get one thing straight right now,” she said firmly. “I’m blind, Adam. B-L-I-N-D. Blind! Say it with me. Blind blind blind. I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not denying it. Everybody knows it. You can mention it. It’s the elephant in the room and there’s no use trying to pretend it isn’t there. People who do that tend to trip a lot.”
“You’re right of course,” he said, grinning at how charmingly she was attacking him. “From now on I’ll refer to you as that gorgeous blind chick. Okay?”
She put her head to the side. “Hmm. I rather like that.”
He wanted to kiss her so badly he could hardly stand it. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked her in all candor. “I mean, do you have any conception of how very attractive you are to … to …” He’d been about to say, “men” but he really meant, “me”.
She went motionless for a few seconds, then handed him his drink and turned her face toward his.
“Where’s Jeremy’s mother?” she asked frankly.
He recognized that question immediately for exactly what it was—a way to remind him that they weren’t laying the groundwork for a romance here. She just wasn’t interested, and especially not with a man whose current entanglements she didn’t have a clear picture of.
But instead of letting it put his back up, he realized she deserved an honest answer. And, leaning back against the kitchen counter, he decided that was exactly what he would give her.
“The woman who gave birth to my son is currently working her way through the casting couches of Hollywood,” he said with a certain bitterness. “We don’t refer to her as Jeremy’s mother. She’s never been a real mother to him. Right now Melissa is probably one big break away from becoming a household name. One big break or one spectacular scandal. Whichever comes first. We don’t ever see her.”
Elena was staggered by the tragedy of Jeremy’s situation, and by how calmly Adam laid out the facts, as though they were ordinary and needed no special regrets. “Are you married to her?”
“No.” He stirred the ice cubes in his glass and they clinked against the sides. “She was afraid a marriage license would tend to get in the way of her career.”
“But motherhood didn’t tie her down?”
“Not at all. She dumped it right away. Along with me.”
“I see.”
She had to admit that gave her new insight into this man’s character. If he was the sort of father who stepped up and took responsibility for a child whose mother had abandoned him, despite the fact that he obviously wasn’t particularly good with children, maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d taken him for at first. Many men would have thrown up their hands and decided the child was surely someone else’s problem.
Still, she couldn’t let him know she was prepared to give him any credit. He was definitely a “give the man an inch, he’ll take a mile” type, and she wasn’t handing out inches right now.
“In other words, you picked the wrong woman to have a serious relationship with,” she noted, purposely playing devil’s advocate instead of a sympathizer.
He hesitated and took a sip of cool liquid before he answered. “I guess you could pin that on me. But I haven’t seen a lot of evidence that there are many women out there you can depend on. Every woman in my life has walked out in one way or another.”
Elena stiffened as though his words attacked her as well as the women he was referring to. “That’s a bit harsh. Are you trying to tell me you don’t know any decent women at all?”
His cynicism was raw and candid. “Let’s put it this way. We’re all human. We all have selfish motives. It just seems to me that women don’t admit it up front. They pretend to have higher ideals and then go right ahead and cheat. You can’t count on them.”
She threw up a hand. “You’ve been burned and you’ll never trust again. Yes, I’ve heard it before.”
“And you’ll hear it again. It’s based on truth.” He frowned and decided turnabout was fair play. “How about you?”
“Me?” She looked surprised at the question.
“Yes, you. You may be proudly blind, but I’m sure you have a love life, too.”
“A love life.” She laughed out loud at the term. “Sorry to disappoint you. I avoid heartbreak right up front. I don’t fall in love. Never have, never will. That makes me almost bulletproof.”
“What about your friend, the one who draws nudes?”
“Gino? He doesn’t date women.”
“Yes, you implied that before.”
“You see?” she said again with an impudent smile. “Bulletproof.”
She turned and walked off and he watched her go. He didn’t believe a word she’d said. She was at least in her mid-twenties and no woman that attractive could have avoided male attention that long.
Did that mean she was just like all the others—making up truth as she went along? He winced. And suddenly he realized he was fighting that concept. He didn’t want to think she was like that. In fact, he needed her to be better than that. So what kind of fool was he, anyway?
Draining his glass, he put it down on the counter and followed her back into the living room. She was at the piano lightly playing a soft tune, but she made room for him on the piano bench.
“I took a look at your backyard,” he told her. “It’s very nice.”
She nodded, smiling. “I like to work in the garden, but, of course, I do have some logistical problems. I have a friend who’s a landscaper. He comes by and does basic maintenance for me every now and then.”
He frowned. Another “he” friend, huh? And she claimed there was no love in her life. But that was really none of his business, was it?
“I noticed a little house out back. Who stays there?”
“Oh,
