His conspiratory, low tone sent shivers through me. I laughed to steady my nerves.
“Well, there were a few photos of thirteen-year-old you beside your dad when he commemorated his company.”
Anton straightened, groaning. “You went that far back?”
His embarrassment was hilarious. Laughing was a good distraction from the flutter in my stomach caused by his closeness.
“The pictures weren’t bad. I mean, thirteen-year-old Anton didn’t have that cocky look you have now… You were an adorable, innocent-looking boy.”
He sipped his drink before setting it aside to throw another ball. It still missed, but it went straight for a bit longer.
“Yeah, thirteen-year-old me hung on every word my father said like it was gospel.”
I paused, worried I’d hit a sore spot. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing much to say except that at that age, most kids idolize their father. I wasn’t any different. But the Waltons, as you’ve noticed, is a huge name around here. Much bigger than what a typical teenager has to live up to. My father wanted to mold me into his idea of the perfect child.”
The resentment in his voice made me want to hear more. Talking about things we keep inside was good. Just the fact that he’d opened up to me on our first date was overwhelming. I wanted him to know I was here to listen.
“It must have been intimidating to bear the weight of a family like yours. What about now? Is he still trying to mold you?”
“No, I’d been my own man since I’d gone against his greatest wish by choosing law.” He shrugged, but a slight, almost imperceptible, tightening of his jaw hinted at the long old feeling bottled inside.
He tried to sound nonchalant, but I could tell my questions had struck a nerve. It was better to change the subject.
“Thirteen-year-old me was obsessed with pop music. I knew every song by heart. I was convinced I would become a star.”
He chuckled softly. “I can picture Celia Adams singing her heart out on her bed, with messy pigtails and wearing hand-me-downs.”
The sound of his laughter made my heart flutter.
I observed his face closely.
Stop staring, Celia. Don’t be so obvious about your attraction to him.
Gathering myself, I refocused on our conversation. “You’re surprisingly spot on. I loved pigtails back then, and I wore Maddison's hand-me-downs.”
He smirked. “Maybe next time we’ll go somewhere you can sing.”
His comment filled me with warmth. “Already planning a second date?” I teased.
Anton reached for my waist. “Yeah, I am. Perhaps somewhere with dancing, too?” With that, he twirled me around to the music playing overhead.
I couldn’t have stopped smiling even if I tried.
Chapter fourteen
Anton
Aweek after another date with Celia, the doorbell jolted me awake. I’d finally made myself go to sleep early for once.
I sat up in bed, brain foggy as I tried to process whether the sound was part of a dream or reality. The room was dark and silent, except for the hum of the air vents. Just as I settled back down, the doorbell rang again.
Who could it be? My first thought raced to an emergency in the building, and no one could reach me. Or was it my dad again and no one could reach me?
With that possibility gripping me, I hurriedly got up, threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and left my bedroom.
At the front door, I cautiously peeked through the peephole and immediately jerked back. A familiar blonde figure stood outside in a light spring coat, her hair pulled back, revealing a face I didn’t expect to see at my doorstep. What was Reeva doing here?
