Complicity [h.s]

43

It can't be him.

One more pillared threshold, and I find the source of the music. It comes from a grand piano being played by a stranger to the room, but someone I know very deeply. All-black suit, and a black mask over his eyes, he stays concentrated and slightly hunched in his seat.

My jaw drops—it's him. It's Harry.

People dance together, dance along to his romantic melody of Young and Beautiful. I feel a shock to my core, my stomach twisting in sickness. Thoughts flood my mind simultaneously. One moment, I'm reminiscing about dancing with him to this song a year ago. I was wearing a red dress identical to the one I have on now, and he was dressed in a suit similar to the one he wears tonight. But then, I see flashes of him destroying his mother's piano right before my eyes. I remember how much pain playing the piano brought him, how private it was, and how he swore never to do it again.

But now, he's playing to a room full of people. And it's a song we once danced to.

Like I'm under a spell, I slowly walk towards him without even thinking. Through the swaying couples, I get drawn into a trance by the song. Not only did the song bring back so many memories, but he's playing it so well. When did he learn to play this? When did he start playing piano again? His pure talent is on display to the room, and everyone loves it. Some dance—some just watch. No one knew who he was but me. And no one knew the significance of this, but me.

"Did I scare you?" I hear Ambrose behind me, making me nearly flinch out of my gaze.

I turn around to see him standing there, tilting his head.

Freezing in place, I raffle for an explanation.

"I'm sorry." I shut my eyes and shake my head. "I just love this song, and I had to go see it."

He smiles and holds out his hand.

"Then dance with me."

My stomach sinks, and I stare down at his hand.

"Oh, I'm an awful dancer..."

"Fortunately for you, I'm incredible." He takes my hand anyway, pulling me onto the dance floor.

I turn my head back as I get further from the piano, Harry looking up at me as it happens. My lips part as he continues to play despite the situation I can't escape.

Ambrose pulls me within the couples, twisting me around to face him. He grabs my waist with one grip and my hand out with his in the other. I gently hold his shoulder. He smiles and leads us in a dance.

I'm going to be sick—this is too much.

"See...you're not bad." He looks down at our feet working together. "And if this is going to work, you must dance with me everywhere we go."

I know he's speaking to me, but all I can think about is the song being played by the man I used to dance with. It was once in a setting just like this, in clothes almost identical to these. I want to scream—I want to run. But I can't; I have to go along with this. I need to focus on Ambrose.

I strengthen up and clear my throat.

"I didn't realize my parents set me up with the wild child of the four." I rehash our earlier conversation to distract myself.

"Speak for yourself, Ms. Montanari." He fires back. "You're no saint."

"Oh yeah?" I bluff.

"I know you've been married before, on a whim."

I sharpen my jaw. This is the worst time to talk about this.

"Right. My father must've warned you that I'm...what...damaged goods?"