"The music existed before I cam along, Elio," I reminded him, wanting him to believe in his own talents, his own inspiration, without whatever spark I ignited in him. Still, it was a nice thought, and I wasn't above taking just a little credit.

"Something disgustingly romantic?" I teased, a hand resting on his hip and gently kneading the wiry muscle there. "You should. You can serenade me. We'll make all the guests uncomfortable."