Images of Annika were replaced by blue eyes, soft brown curls and sticky kisses. His heart ached, and a familiar burning built up behind his eyes and prickled at his nose. He inhaled deeply and willed the sensation away as he continued to play. He transitioned from the soft lullaby to a rowdier children’s song, to some of the first classical pieces he’d ever learned. The music seemed to flow from his fingers, and he became lost in the melodies and harmonies of the sounds he produced. He could almost hear her voice, but tonight he did not run from it as he usually did. That was new.

So involved was he that he didn’t notice Annika until her floral scent reached him and the warmth from her body radiated to him. She sat with her legs facing out and held a glass of watered-down bourbon in her good hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s a beautiful piece.” She looked at him, then at the keyboard. “You’ve been coming here for weeks, and you’ve never played before.”

Daniel shrugged. “You’ve never had a bourbon before.”

“Says you.” She grinned. “This was yours.” She sipped it, then met his eyes. “I drink yours every day.” She turned in the seat so she was now facing the keyboard.

“Do you, now?” The smile on his face showed exactly what he was feeling, but he was powerless to stop it. That was just what seemed to happen around Annika. He kept playing.

She nodded and finished the drink, reaching up to place the glass on the case of the piano. “I do. Haven’t you noticed that I started pouring you the good stuff?”

She had turned away from him to put down the glass, inadvertently tossing her loosened ponytail. Her soft locks threw off a light fruity scent he recalled from his time with her in the hospital. He had indeed noticed that she was pouring more expensive bourbon, but he hadn’t given it much thought.

He chuckled. “How’s the hand? Any pain?”

She placed her good hand on the keyboard and played a small melody by popular artist Ron Pope that spoke of longing and hope. “Feels fine.” Her voice became soft; she raised her injured hand. “Thank you, again, for not making me go to the ER.”

He shrugged. Stray curls escaped the loosened ponytail, making her even more beautiful. “I didn’t know you could play.”

“I’m better with both hands.” She darted her eyes away from him and cleared her throat. “What’s the tune you were playing? Seems familiar.”

“It’s a lullaby. I used to play it...” He opened his mouth to say for my daughter, but the words stuck to his tongue. “For my nephew. But he’s big now, and I don’t see him much.”