either, but I do enjoy that I have a comfortable lifestyle, even after my husband left us.”
“And you think piano will afford him that comfortable lifestyle?” Nik pressed.
“I think that pushing him to become accomplished in more than video games and soccer will teach him a valuable lesson for his future. Tell me, did you enjoy being forced to sit at a piano when you were his age?”
At the challenge in her voice, he did smile, unable to stop himself. “At his age, I had to beg my mother to let me keep going to my lessons. I don’t think she enjoyed the idea that I might become the stereotype.”
“I don’t understand,” Catherine snapped.
Nik sighed and curled his hands around his mug for something to do with them. “Blind people and the piano have a long history, but it’s not worth boring you with it. The simple fact is, as much as my mother wanted me to pursue other avenues of interest, this was the one thing I felt any passion for.”
“And it got you far, clearly,” she said.
Nik tried not to take it personally, but it wasn’t easy. “I’m not displeased with my career, Miss Peters, and as you have gone out of your way to make sure your son can have lessons from me, I’d say you’re at least benefitting from it. Even if he isn’t.”
There was a long silence, then the sound of the stool pushing back. “I’ll see you next week, Mr. Mandroux.”
Nik didn’t move to show her out. He nodded a goodbye, and then turned his ear toward the door and only breathed again when it slammed shut. A moment passed, and then he realized he wasn’t alone when Van started to laugh from the basement doorway.
“Wow.”
Nik waved him off and turned toward the sink to empty his mug into the basin. “Yeah.”
“Why is she here?” Van prodded.
Nik curled his hands into fists and fought back the urge to scream that he was sick and tired of everyone making him explain his every decision. “I could use the money.”
It was the magic answer—the one that always shut Van up. “I need you to take dinner over to dad’s. I just got called into this all-hands meeting, and it’s going to go for hours. Some asshole decided to delete these six folders which fucked up the entire server and…”
The rest of the sentence was white noise. The only part that mattered—visiting his father—stuck. It wasn’t that Nik hated those visits, but his Alzheimer’s was advancing so fast, each time he showed up, he didn’t recognize the man who had taught him how to ride a bike, or run down a hill, or ride waves on a boogie board. He was a shell that remembered who Nik was about eight percent of the time, and it cracked his heart into pieces each time he had to subject himself to it.
But of course, he wasn’t going to say no, either. “Can you call the front desk and let them know I’ll be a few minutes late. I need a shower, and I don’t want to bother with ride share.”
“Bus?” Van asked dubiously.
Nik laughed. “No. I might not have many friends, but I have enough.” His first instinct was to call Jay, but he knew he wasn’t going to. His fingers were already itching to scroll two names down, to hear Adam spoken in a sharp robotic voice before Adam’s own, dulcet tones greeted him. “I’ll get a ride.”
Van made a noise like he was going to ask more questions, but Nik wasn’t in the mood to explain himself anymore. He turned on his heel, clipping his shoulder against the door as he hurried out, but he was unbothered by the pain. He took the stairs as quick as he could, then closed his bedroom door behind him.
The room was cooling down as the sun had started to set, and he no longer smelled the warmth of rays on the wood floors. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the dresser, then shuffled into the bathroom before reaching for his phone and doing exactly what he’d been itching to all day.
“Hey.” Adam’s voice sounded both surprised and relieved, and Nik hated that he was the one responsible.
“Sorry to bother you,” Nik said. “I…sort of have a favor to ask.”
Adam laughed. “You sound like a customer service rep, dude.”
Nik pressed his hand over his face and groaned. “It’s been a long day. I really do need a