Page 81 of Legally Yours

“You,” he said as he stroked my bare back, “are going to kill me. Come on, let’s find our seats before I combust right here in the lobby.”

Brandon led me to our seats in the long, narrow auditorium. I had learned about it in school—the massive ceilings and slightly curved walls of the stage were some of the first built with modern acoustics in mind, and the shallow balconies prevented the sound from being muffled by too many bodies.

Brandon guided me to the first row of the corner balcony, which looked almost directly over the orchestra, now starting the process of tuning their instruments. I could see everything: the musicians’ expressions as they closed their eyes and listened, the glossy hardwood floor beneath them, the shadows cast by the massive chandeliers above us. The dissident notes of the instruments were unhindered by the audience’s chatter.

We had the best seats in the house.

I turned to Brandon. “This is too much. Way too much. I would have been impressed sitting in the back row.”

“Skylar, hasn’t it occurred to you by this point thatImight like the nicer things in life too?” Brandon slung his arm around the back of my seat, giving his fingers room to play over my bare shoulder. “I’m not about to squash myself into the cheap seats just because my girlfriend’s the one person on the planet who hates money.”

There was that word again: “girlfriend.” He’d used it a few times now. I’d assumed it was a hypothetical statement, but maybe not. I was more surprised, however, by how much I wanted the latter to be the case.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m being a bit self-absorbed, aren’t I?”

Brandon winked and squeezed my shoulder, clearly happy he’d won the argument. “Just enjoy the show, all right?”

The lights in the giant hall dimmed, and the audience clapped as the conductor walked onto the stage and took a bow. He was followed by Chung, the pianist, for whom the applause grew even louder.

“It’s a performance, FYI,” I said, leaning into Brandon’s ear. “No one calls it a show.”

That earned me a massive eye roll. “I may have the money, Red, butyou’rethesnob.”

* * *

The performance was amazing,of course. I spent most of it with my eyes closed, which sort of defeated the purpose of the box seats. Brandon seemed more into it than I would have expected, watching the musicians with an obvious fascination that couldn’t be faked. He asked me multiple times what this and that instrument was, and was particularly curious about the conductor. At the end of the final movement, when the conductor turned to the audience, Brandon was among the first to jump out of his seat, clapping furiously and whistling.

“That was something else,” he kept saying as we filed back to the lobby. “Really amazing.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been before,” I remarked. “You seem like the kind of person they would probably court for donations.”

“Oh, they do,” Brandon said with a nod. “But I haven’t actually been for several years. I didn’t know anything about it, and it was incredibly slow and depressing music. I give them money because I know things like this are important to a lot of people, but I never really wanted to go again. Idiot.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it this time,” I said with a grin as I squeezed his hand.

I’d never dated anyone who enjoyed going to the symphony with me; most guys acted like it was tantamount to being water-boarded. I was even more flattered now, knowing that Brandon had gone out of his way to take me here, considering he obviouslyhadthought he’d be bored to tears.

It became clear just how valued a donor he was when, as we reentered the lobby, we were almost immediately accosted by people associated with the orchestra, either trustees or people involved with the marketing, all of them thrilled he’d made an appearance. To everyone, Brandon kindly introduced me as his date and just as kindly dismissed their attention as we slowly made our way to collect our coats.

“Do you have the token?” he asked once we were closer.

I fished it out of my purse. “Here.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said and gave me a quick kiss before he joined the line.

“Skylar?”

I turned around to see a familiar face. My stomach dropped. Shit.

“Hey, Jared,” I greeted him, allowing him to take my hands and give me a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Wow,” he said, looking me over frankly. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “So do you.”

Jared looked his usual handsome self, if slightly more dressed up in khaki slacks, a light-pink dress shirt, and a navy sport coat. His hair was combed neatly to the side. He looked like a Brooks Brothers advertisement.

“So, what are you doing here tonight?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you here before. My family has season tickets, so I come all the time. Are you interested in classical music?”