That Kind of Love - The Legacy Saga Book 2 Short Story

That Kind -

 Chapter 4

When they reach Evangeline's apartment building, Adagio is reluctant to release her hand, and judging by the warmth he senses from her, her feelings are the same.

“Thanks for your help,” she tells him. “I couldn't have made it without you.”

Adagio grins. “Oh, I think you would have eventually been just fine. That independent streak of yours would not have allowed you to give up.”

She smiles. “You know me well. I guess we really aren't strangers, are we?”

No, I think I've known you my whole life. “Indeed we are not. Which means I am welcome to come and see you again, right?”

When her smile widens, he officially admits it to himself; he's a goner. Those beautiful, laughing brown eyes and that irresistibly-full smiling mouth could melt the coldest of hearts. During their walk to her place, he'd stolen countless glances at her, and her every feature is burned in his memory, never to be erased–her smooth caramel skin, her shoulder-length, auburn tightly-curled hair, and that amazing spirit. She radiates warmth that he would love to curl up into forever.

“Since we are such great friends now, I guess so,” she answers. “But . . . you have to agree to indulge in one of my favorite card games.”

“Cards, huh? I think I can do that. I'll even bring a six pack of root-beer. How's that?”

“That sounds great. And I'll provide hot wings and potato skins. I mean, what's a card game without game food?”

“Not much of a card game,” he answers, grinning. “So, how is tomorrow?”

“I teach music until four. We can do it then.”

“What do you teach?”

“Violin, cello and percussion. The last is always done at the student's home. Wouldn't want the neighbors to run me out of the place.”

Adagio laughs. “I can understand that.” He smiles, thinking of Nonna. “My grandmother was gifted in music as well. She taught me to play the piano.”

“Really?” Evangeline says, a grin splitting her adorable face. “I have a Clavinova. We will have to collaborate a little while you're here.”

“I look forward to making music with you,” he says in a simpering tone, drawing a snort from her, and a fit of laughter erupts between them. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow.” He gives her hand another squeeze and she returns the gesture. He releases it again and opens the door for her.

“Thank you again,” she says softly.

“You're welcome.” He stands outside the door and doesn't move until she is on the elevator and the doors close. And there goes my heart, he muses. Take care of it, angel.

Heading back the way he came, Adagio can't stop grinning. Was I even alive before today? He imagines hearing Nonna's voice saying, “Of course not!” Chuckling inwardly, he removes his sunglasses, tossing them in a nearby garbage can. He no longer needs them.

He whistles as he heads home.

* * *

Closing my apartment door, I lean back against it and sigh, unable to believe today's experience. What I've done today would likely appall some people. My parents would definitely think I've gone over the edge. But that's the beauty of no longer allowing what they think to control me.

What started out as a terrible experience turned into one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to me. Crawling around on my hands and knees in public, trying to locate my cane and bag, could have been totally embarrassing, but the moment I felt the touch of Adagio's gentle hand on mine and heard his accented voice softly say, “Let me help you,” I felt a warmth unlike anything I've ever experienced. I tell myself it had only been because he was so kind to me, but I know it is more than that.

He's a stranger to me, I continue to argue. But he isn't. It is like I've rediscovered an old friend I haven't seen in a long time. I flex the fingers of the hand he held as we walked, pondering how empty that hand feels now.

Get a grip, girl! I heave a deep sigh and put my purchases away, putting Adagio out of my mind for now. At least, I try to.