•••••Benjamin's Perspective
The car was quiet.
Too quiet.
She was never this quiet.
I dared a glance at her, taking my eyes off the road as I pulled the car to a stop at a red light.
Her breathing was hushed—almost like she wasn't breathing at all—her body barely rising and falling with each respiration.
She'd washed the purple color off her lips, making her look more like herself, but her eyes weren't dancing like they normally were.
Instead, they seemed to be worn out and exhausted as they stared down at her hands in her lap.
The silence was absolutely deafening, so I took a deep breath and shattered it. "Hey,"
She didn't stir.
"Songbird?"
Still no sign of movement.
Exhaling slowly, I pulled into the nearest parking lot and shut the car off.
When the keys were out of the ignition and my attention was able to be undivided, I tapped her arm. "Austyn,"
She looked up. "Were you talking to me?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry," she sighed, "I didn't mean to ignore you,"
I shook my head. "It's fine. I just wanted to check on you."
"I'm okay, I guess." She closed her eyes briefly, sitting back against the seat. "I don't know how to react to it."
"You'll have time to sort it out." I said, rubbing her shoulder. "You got his phone number, didn't you?"
"Yeah, he wants to see if we could get coffee or something before the tour leaves." She shook her head. "I can't understand why he came back. He left us. I never even knew his name, and he forgot mine."
I tried to be optimistic. "No, he couldn't have forgotten you that easily."
"He did, Ben. That's how it goes with people like him."
"But, he called you by name tonight."
"I reckon he saw an advertisement for the tour, recognized my name, did a little research, and then found me here." Her usually vibrant green eyes were dull and filled with heartbreak. "He would never have remembered me otherwise."
"Well, maybe he's trying to say he's sorry." I suggested. "Come back into your life?"
"I'm not sure I want him in my life." She again stared down at her hands, fiddling absentmindedly with her fingers. "I don't feel like a 'Rae'. Figuratively or literally."
Landon Rae. Her father had introduced himself as Landon Rae. It had hit Austyn like a punch to the gut, hearing her real last name from her father's lips for the first time in her life.
"You don't feel attached to him at all?" I asked. "Not even after..." I stopped, trying to avoid bluntness. "Not even after last December?"
"After my mom died, you mean?" She stated, seeing no point in sugar-coating anything. "No, not even after that. I know he's really all I've got, but Mom didn't want anything more to do with him, so why should I?"
"What if he's changed?"
"I don't know." Her voice dropped to just below a whisper, as if she'd break if she spoke any louder. "I just don't know."
"It's a lot to think about, for sure."
"I wish I didn't have to think about anything, like you said the other day." She offered a tired smile, but her eyes were near tears. "Why can't I just catch a break?"
She wasn't wrong—life seemed to knock her down every time she found her footing, and stress followed her around like a lovesick puppy.
Stressed out when I got myself admitted into the hospital, stressed out when Aiden left, stressed out during the whole ordeal with Chase, stressed out about meeting my mom, stressed out when she had to perform a song she barely knew, and now this.
And although she was strong, the past week was just too much for her to handle.
Anyone would crack under the pressure before too long, and it seemed like she finally did.
She was constantly tired, she'd broken down a handful of times, and I wasn't sure there was much I could do to help her.
But every little bit counted.
Leaning over the center console, I slid my arms around her, enclosing her in a tight embrace and mumbling, "Catch a break now."
Her body relaxed, and she breathed deeply into my shoulder. "Thank you."
I released her and tilted her head up, softly kissing her lips before resting my forehead against hers. "We'll find something to cheer you up a bit. Get your mind off things for a while."
"I'd like that." She breathed a laugh, but I could hear the relief in her tone.
"I'll see what I can do." I slipped the car keys into my pocket and climbed out of the driver's seat.
"Where are we going?" She asked, unbuckling her seatbelt and moving to open her door.
I grabbed the handle before she could. "We'll figure that out when we get there."
A smile tugged at corners of her mouth. "Wing it?"
"Precisely." I offered her my arm. "Just like last April."
She slipped her arm through the crook of my elbow. "Lead the way."
We walked out of the parking lot and took a left turn onto the sidewalk, beginning our trek to who-knows-where.
"Who's your favorite composer?" I tried to make small talk as we strolled past the shops that lined the street, most of them already closed up for the night.
"That's a hard one." She shook her head. "I don't think I have an answer."
"That difficult?" I teased.
She shot me a playful glare. "Well, what would you say if I asked you to choose a favorite musical?"
I gasped and pressed a hand to my chest. "I can't choose between them!"
"So you see my point." She laughed at my dramatic display. "Do you have a favorite composer?"
I shrugged. "I don't listen to much instrumental music, but I do like Frank Wildhorn."
She shook her head. "That's only because you and Aiden like to trade music tastes. Choose a different one."
"Fine. I was in The Nutcracker a few years back, so, Tchaikovsky?"
"Nope. That answer is also biased."
"What more do you want from me?" I exclaimed in faux exasperation.
Without missing a beat, she reached up and pressed a kiss to my lips.
"That'll do for now." She said simply.
"I mean," I shrugged, "if that was all you wanted, I could've done that earlier."
She nodded. "Yes, but I decided to experiment with my spontaneity."
"Yeah, feel free to try that out whenever you want—" I was cut off by her elbowing me in the ribs.
"I can't choose a favorite composer," she continued, "but I'm absolutely in love with—"
"Me?" I interjected, earning myself another elbow to the ribs.
"The romantic era." She rolled her eyes at me. "You're so full of yourself."
"You do seem like the romantic era type." I said, pretending to ignore her comment. "Is classical too mechanical for you?"
She shrugged. "A little too predictable. I mean, I love a lot of those pieces, but they get a little old after a while. I'd prefer songs written with more emotion."
"To each his own."
"I'm female, Benjamin."
"Yes, I'm well aware."
She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
I would've defended myself against her playful criticisms, but something caught my eye.
A nearby shop, one of the only ones still open, seemed to be beckoning to us.
It's front window displayed sheet music and wooden flutes, with a clear view of a piano sitting in the center of the store itself.
I couldn't help but be reminded of the street Austyn and I had walked down last April, and the old man's—Terris's—music store that we'd found.
"Let's go in there." I suggested, pointing to the storefront.
A smile played across her lips when she saw what I was gesturing to. "I love places like that."
"There's a piano in there, too." Grabbing her hand, I ran down the sidewalk toward the shop's front door.
Being a faster runner than me in general, she caught up to my pace with ease, staring at me inquisitively. "Why are we running?"
"Because my job tonight is to distract you for at least another hour and a half, and the clock is ticking." I opened the door, making a grand, sweeping gesture with my arm. "After you."
She rolled her eyes at me yet again, but walked through the doorway into the shop.
It was almost completely empty—the only other person inside being an older woman who sat at a small counter by the door.
Her grey hair was streaked with white, and the skin on her face was wrinkled and creased from years of smiling. Her expression, however, revealed the exhaustion that comes from a long day at work.
"Hi." She greeted us with a tired drawl.
"Hi." I answered, closing the front door behind me. "You're still open, right?"
"Mhm," she propped her chin up on the palm of her hand and stifled a yawn. "Whole store's 75% off."
The caramel-colored wood floors creaked under our feet as we perused past bookcases that were stained a similar shade, lining the walls and surrounding the piano that sat in the middle.
Austyn's fingertips lightly brushed against the worn spines of the music books, her small grin deepening into an enrapturing smile.
This girl loved old books.
"This reminds me of that street you took me to last year." She remarked, shooting me a glance before continuing to let her green eyes study the scene before her.
"Reminds me of that, too." I replied, watching as she wandered, just like last time. "I think that place was newer, though."
She didn't seem to hear me, too occupied with snatching one of the books off the shelf and flipping through it.
Letting my eyes travel, I caught sight of a shelf in the back of the shop that was labeled, 'piano'.
I crossed the room and surveyed the collection of sheet music. Assorted works from hundreds of composers from different eras, countries, and genres. I searched through the alphabetized inventory, looking for something she might like.
It was an easy task.
One of the smaller books, whose cover conveniently read 'Romantic Era' in big, black calligraphy, sat on the second shelf from the top, easily within reach if I stretched my arm far enough.
"Austyn!" I called once I'd gotten it down.
"Hmm?"
I walked back over to where she stood and handed the book to her. "Is this your level?"
She opened the book and flipped to a random page. "Yeah, I can play that."
"Do you know any of those artists?"
"Um," she turned a couple more pages and pointed to one of the songs. "I know this composer, but I haven't ever heard this song before."
"Samuil Maykapar?" I asked, trying my best to pronounce the name correctly. "'Autumn'?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Excuse me," I addressed the woman at the counter, "are we allowed to play the piano?"
"Yeah," the woman gave me a slow nod. "Have at it."
"Here," I handed Austyn the book and dragged her over to where the grand piano sat.
"What?"
"Play it." I said, pointing at the song.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Sight-reading requires 100% of your attention, doesn't it?"
"Well," she shrugged, "yes,"
"Play it." I repeated. "You might like it."
Shaking her head, she gave in and sat down, setting the music up.
I took a step back and slid my hands into my pockets as she placed her fingers in the written position.
She played the first couple measures with a slight hesitation, double-checking herself to make certain that she was doing it right.
And just like magic, all her stress evaporated, and the world around her disappeared.
She got lost, only seeing the notes that were written, and only hearing the sound of what she was playing.
It really was a beautiful song, and even more so when a beautiful girl was playing it.
So I watched, just standing there, as she studied the notes and followed the melody with precision and expertise.
I watched the way she'd take in a breath when she played a crescendo, the way her eyebrows would shoot up when she played a higher note, and the way her eyes would light up when she came across a phrase that she enjoyed.
Following the written melody and it's variations, her fingers danced across the keys until the music instructed her to pull the song to a ritardando, and then a close.
When the song was over, she took her hands off the keys, and remained staring at the music in silence.
I came up behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Did you like it?"
Tilting her head all the way back so she could see my face, and gave me a smile. "Very much."
I kissed the top of her head before pulling her to her feet. "Do you want to find something else to play?"
"Sorry, kids." The woman at the counter spoke up before Austyn could answer, her words running together with a drowsy slur. "Gotta close up shop."
A slightly disappointed frown passed across Austyn's face, but she quickly covered it up. "Thank you for letting me play your piano."
She nodded, waving us off as she hauled herself to her feet and turned the 'open' sign over to display the word 'closed'.
"We've still got 40 minutes or so." I said, holding my arm out to Austyn again when we'd stepped out onto the sidewalk.
"What do you want to do?" She took my arm and laid her head against my shoulder. "We're sort of the only ones out at this hour."
I shrugged. "Then there'll be less people around to judge us."
"Judge us for what?"
"Oh, you know, if I wanted to do," wrapping my arm around her back, I leaned down swiftly and scooped her up off her feet, "that?"
"Benjamin!" She exclaimed in indignation. "Set me down!"
I pretended to think about it. "Hmm, nope."
She tried to wriggle out of my arms. "My legs work perfectly fine, I can walk perfectly well on my own, and I do not require any of your assistance!"
"The residents are gonna get irritated if you keep yelling like that."
"You're ridiculous." She dropped her voice to a whisper, crossing her arms and ceasing to struggle.
"So I've been told."
I continued to carry her as a few more minutes passed in silence. My feet lightly tapped against the concrete sidewalk as I made my way back to the parking lot where my mom's rental car sat.
"Where are you taking me now?" Austyn spoke again, breaking the quiet.
"Wherever you want." I replied. "Or we could just stay here." Glancing up at the dark night sky, I added, "Stars are out."
She shrugged. "We could watch them for a bit."
I breathed a laugh. "You're still not tired of watching the stars?"
"I've said before, I'll never get tired of finding a quiet place to just sit and talk." She cleared her throat. "We probably need to talk about some things anyway."
My ears turned a shade of pink, guessing that this had something to do with the conversation she'd had with my mom a few days ago. The slight embarrassment in her expression told me that my guess was correct.
When we'd reached the van, I set Austyn down and unlocked the doors before opening the trunk.
We sat down with our feet dangling out of the back of the car, each waiting for the other to start talking.
Luckily enough for me, she was the braver of the two of us.
"So, we've been dating for almost a year." She stated, a brief, hesitant pause between her words.
"Yeah." I nodded. "Roughly eleven months, to be more specific."
"'Roughly' and 'specific' don't usually show up in the same phrase, but yes. So," she again began her sentence with a pause, "how much longer do you think this is going to last?"
I looked over at her, finding her hands busy with anxious fidgeting.
Clearing my throat, I pulled my legs up and crossed them. "I mean, a lifetime would be preferable."
"I'm serious, Ben."
"So am I."
She breathed a frustrated sigh. "I need to know where we're going. Your mom asked me what I'd say if you..." she took in a generous inhale, closing her eyes as her cheeks colored deeply, "if you asked me to marry you."
At her words, the air grew uncomfortably warm, and I had the sudden urge to discard the hoodie that I was wearing. "And, what'd you say?"
"I told her that there was a lot to consider." She said, shrugging. "I know what I'd want to say—if you asked—but I'm scared of making abrupt decisions."
"I get that." I nodded, scratching the back of my neck. "But...would you say 'yes'? If I asked you when we knew that we were both ready for it?"
"Under those circumstances," she paused yet again, but a certainty had surfaced in her expression. "Yes. I'd say 'yes'."
I had to stop myself from sighing in relief. "Okay."
"So, would you ask?" She continued, looking up at me. "If you knew I'd say 'yes'?"
"I will ask." I said, startling both her and myself at how quickly I'd responded, but once the words were spoken, there was no way to take them back.
I didn't want to take them back anyway.
"I will ask." I repeated, meeting her eyes. "I'll ask because there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. We aren't ready now, I know, but when we are, I'll ask."
Her gaze dropped to her hands again. "Bold statement."
"True statement." I corrected, taking her hands in mine. "I love you, and I want to do everything in my power to ensure that you're happy for the rest of your life."
She offered a small smile. "Only if you allow me to do the same for you."
I returned her grin. "We're at an agreement, then?"
She nodded. "One more thing, though."
"Shoot."
"Can I name our first child?"
I laughed, resting my head against hers. "You have names picked out already?"
"No, I just have a girls' name that I really like, and I want to put it into consideration early so that there's a higher chance of it getting picked."
"Alright, let me hear it."
"Eden." She said. "I don't have a middle name yet."
I nodded, definitely unopposed to the sound of the name. "Eden Cook?"
Her smile deepened. "Perfect."
Lifting my hands to her face, I let myself study her eyes, drinking in the image of her smiling up at me, before tilting her head up and pressing my lips to hers.
Her fingertips brushed against my jawline, as if uncertain as to whether she wanted it to last long or not, but then her arms were around my neck, and I had my answer.
I would've given almost anything to hold her there forever; for her to know that I was there to stay, and for both of us to remain lost in the promises of everything that we hoped for someday.
After what at least felt like forever, she pressed her hand against my chest and pulled back.
"Let me breathe a minute." She teased.
"Take as long as you need." I checked the time on my watch. "We still have ten minutes."
Rolling her eyes, she moved her arms around my neck down to encircle my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my cheek, before setting her chin atop my shoulder and holding me close to her.
"I love you," she murmured.
"I love you too." I responded with a smile.
She turned her head, pressing another kiss to the skin just behind my ear and held me tighter.
We would've stayed like that longer, if her phone hadn't buzzed.
She slowly removed her arms from around my shoulders and checked who the notification was from, just to make sure that it wasn't anything important.
I slid my arm around her waist, burying my face in her hair while she read the message.
Suddenly, I felt her tense up.
"What is it?" I asked, lifting my head to see her face.
She shut her phone off, yet remained staring down at it with a troubled expression. "My dad wants to know if we can get coffee on Friday afternoon."
"It'll be okay." I said, trying my best to reassure her. "Don't let it eat at you."
But the damage had been done. The light in her eyes had dimmed again, and any trace of a smile had vanished.
"I'm sorry." She apologized, reading my expression. "I know you just wanted for us to spend some time together, and my mind is all over the place right now—"
"No, I wanted for you to get a break." I interrupted her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Plus, that beautiful smile was on your face for the majority of the time I was given to work with, so I'm claiming success. And," I again checked the time on my watch, "we have seven minutes left, if there's anywhere else you want to go before we head back?"
She gazed up at me with regret, shaking her head. "I...I just want to go home."
Slipping my hoodie off and draping it over her shoulders, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into another embrace. "Do you want me to drive you back to the house?"
"No," she breathed, resting her head against my chest. "This is home."
•••••
I got us back to the house on time and walked Austyn to her door.
She let me envelope her in one more hug before she went inside her room for the night, taking my hoodie with her.
My mom peered at me over the rim of her reading glasses as I walked into the living room to hand her the car keys. "Thanks for letting us borrow that."
Giving me no answer, my mom merely sat back and crossed her legs, continuing to stare at me.
I blinked. "Did I do something?"
"Maybe." Mom said thoughtfully, still giving me a skeptical look. "How'd it go?"
"Alright." I shrugged. "We found a sheet music store, and she got to sight-read a song. After that, we went back to the car and talked for a while."
"What'd you talk about?"
"Um," my feet became very interesting things to stare down at while I avoided her gaze, "relationship...stuff,"
"Benjamin." My mom's voice was sharp. "Look at me."
I lifted my eyes from the floor to meet hers.
"I don't know what your intentions are," she began, her expression serious, "but you only find a girl like that once in a lifetime. Don't let her go."
In an instant, all the embarrassment and uncertainty left me, and I nodded, making my resolve permanent. "I won't."