Now he felt bad for making her feel bad. Eyes dried, Anton thanked her for the refills and took a healthy swig from his wine glass. It was nice of Stella to reach for his hand, though he was also glad it didn’t linger on his for too long, as he had no idea how to react to her gesture. With a weak smile, he said, “Nothing to apologize for. Besides, how would you know? I also should correct something I said earlier. I don’t hate talking about her. I just hate talking about that awful day.”<br/><br/>Desperate to change the subject, his mind raced for something else to talk about. There was the dining room table before him that needed clearing. And there was also her music. Anton decided to tackle both. “I’d like to help with clean-up when you think you’re ready.”<br/><br/>Following a sip of his wine, he then inquired, “When’s your next performance? We have the season pass with two tickets. Evangeline renewed every year, and we have pretty good seats, too. Eighth row, slightly to the right of center.” Anton realized he still spoke in plural tense, when he knew it should be singular. It was a habit that would take time for him to get out of. “It’s just I haven’t been to any concerts lately, since, well, y’know. I usually give or sell the tickets to colleagues from the modelling agency.”