Whoa, okay. She needed to reel this in.

“Something like that would work,” he said, and she blinked at him as if coming out of a trance. Perhaps she was.

“Yeah, okay, let’s try. That was...wow. Thanks for sharing that with me.”

“Knives and forks on glass.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow, confused.

“Nothing.” He got to his feet. “Ignore my weird ramblings about my process.”

He gestured for her to put the headphones back on.

“Let’s try this.” Keiran watched her intently, voice coming through her headphones, calm. “Close your eyes. I need you to really feel the song. I’ll layer the piano over you after. Don’t focus on me. Focus on the lyrics and what type of way they make you feel.”

She chewed her lip. Okay. He wasn’t asking her to do anything too weird, and after what he’d shared with her, she could at least try again. It was what she did when she was home alone, cleaning, belting out a tune. Her eyes wouldn’t be closed then, but she allowed herself to just feel, throw her whole being into the song, not caring how silly she looked. She did it in front of Remi because she felt comfortable with her; anyone else was a different story. But she could try.

“Alright.” Keiran grinned, the curve of his mouth an enticing distraction she didn’t need. “Wow me. No pressure or anything.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, focused on the music filtering through her ears, and sang.

#

KEIRAN

“Well?”

“That’s me.” Her eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. “I sound...good. I do sound good, right? By your professional standards, I mean.”

Keiran chuckled. “You do. I knew you’d get it.”

When her voice faded away, she asked him to play it again. And even though he did, hearing her voice again was like a kick to the gut, especially with the piano draped over it like warm caramel. She wrapped up the words with raw emotion, just what he’d asked for, but his heart was thumping. He was trying for a neutral face but had no idea how successful he was because damn. He wondered what she’d been thinking of as she sang. Her voice was battering his every sense right now, and he needed to not be getting swamped with all these feels.

“You’re good at making me sound good,” Cherisse said.

“Nah, that’s all you. I just bring out what’s already there, act as a guide. Package it up a lil’ nicely, but that’s all you.” She leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Take the damn compliment while you can get it.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

She kept up her casual stance, watching him. Her earlier nervousness was gone. Here was the Cherisse he was familiar with. That brain of hers was calculating how to ask him something. Whether to ask at all, but he knew she would.

“You love music,” she said. “So why didn’t you work with your dad? Before the divorce, I mean.”