In Love Again by Megan Mulry

and two daughters in Chelsea. Ivan played stand-up bass and was an ENT specialist who had recently gone into private practice in Brooklyn, where he lived with his boyfriend of seven years. The quartet played a schizophrenic mix of mid-century classics like Art Blakey and MJQ, then trotted out souped-up versions of pop singles by the likes of Taylor Swift and Kelly Clarkson that they transformed into lighthearted instrumental pieces.
    Ben felt Claire before he saw her. She looked lost, in that elegant way of hers, poking her head into the darker part of the club, beyond the bar. He continued playing the selection he’d been riffing on as he watched her wend her way through the narrow spaces between the café tables. There was an empty spot along the banquette that ran the length of the exposed brick wall. He smiled when she looked up at him. She smiled back.
    He was so screwed. Her smile was like one of those absurd shaft-of-light Hallmark cards when the Holy Spirit descends upon some unsuspecting sot. He must have missed a beat or picked up his pace because Jenny took it as a musical cue and launched into a crazy drum solo. Ben chanced another peek at Claire and tried to keep his fingers moving. He knew all the songs like he knew how to breathe. But since breathing seemed complicated, maybe that wasn’t saying much. It was much easier when he didn’t look at her.
    Ben looked down at his own fingers, as if he needed to see the strings and his fingertips touching in order to play the notes. He could have played blindfolded with the guitar behind his back, but she didn’t need to know that. They played the full hour and a half without a break, and his three friends gave him a couple of leading glances as they put away their instruments to clear the small stage for the next group.
    “Who’s the babe?” Jenny asked casually.
    Ben looked across at Claire, who seemed as far from a babe as a woman could possibly be. He wanted to bark at Jenny that Claire was the daughter of a duke until he realized he was being completely ridiculous. “An old friend. Come have a drink with us.” He looked across to Wendell and Ivan, to include them in the casual invitation.
    “Sorry, Ben. I’m on call tomorrow and Tuesday. Maybe next week. She looks charming.” Ivan winked. Wendell also said his regrets, so Jenny accompanied Ben and his guitar case over to where Claire was sitting.
    Claire tried to stand, but she was tucked in behind the cramped table and it was an awkward business.
    “Nice to meet you!” Jenny smiled. “I’m Jenny Donovan. The drummer.”
    “You were amazing!” Claire cried. “Come sit.”
    Ben was almost jealous— why did Jenny get to sit next to her? —then smiled, loving that Claire was genuinely excited by the music. He had spent so many years with Alice tolerating it, at best. Alice had always seen Ben’s guitar playing as an eye-rolling hobby to be borne. Claire seemed fired up. Her cheeks were flushed. She was speaking quickly, almost breathlessly, to Jenny.
    “I mean, are you thinking? Or does it just come over you? What does it feel like?”
    Jenny burst out laughing. “You’re a musician’s dream come true. Look at you! So turned on by the music.”
    Claire flushed. “Oh. Sorry. Am I being inappropriately enthusiastic?” Ben almost dove across the table to get back that flushed excitement. Damn the person who ever made Claire feel like her enthusiasm was inappropriate. Whether it was her mother or her ex-husband or her whole damn circle of friends, Ben decided that a big part of his new position as her Very Good Friend was to fan the flames of her enthusiasm. He certainly hadn’t helped matters by being a moody bastard the day before.
    Jenny laughed again and grabbed Claire’s upper arm. “Are you for real? You’re from another world. So upper crusty. I love it. Isn’t she divine, Ben?”
    God. If Jenny only knew how divine he thought she was. Instead of mooning all over her, Ben reached out