A chuckle unexpectedly bubbled to the surface. “My mother, apparently. Oh,” I added, “and you’re not good enough for me because you’re Irish.”
“Let me guess,” he drawled, “Your parents are British.”
“Pfft. Some great-great-uncle on my father’s side was an Earl of something or other, but they’re as mixed as most Americans.”
“Ha!” Sean crowed. “I’m more pureblood than they are.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “How do you do that?” I asked. “How do you know what to say to get me out of my head?”
“I love you,” he replied matter-of-factly. My heart just about melted at his simple statement. He cleared his throat. “So, we got past the accident finally, but the Lincoln Tunnel is backed up for God knows what reason. We’re close to the Hoboken exit, but I’m not going to make it to your place for you to leave on time. Marco said he’d go straight to Carnegie Hall. Is there someplace there that I can change?”
I pushed down the surge of disappointment. He wasn’t backing out. He was just going to be a little late. “I’ll leave word for security to show you to my dressing room. They’ll escort you to the meet and greet.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’m so sorry, baby. We’ll get there as fast as we can. I’ll text you as soon as we get out of the tunnel.”
I heard Marco curse in Italian. “I’m going to get ready to go. I’ll see you there.” I smiled into the phone even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “I love you.”
* * *
I missed Sean.Granted, it had only been a week since I’d seen him in person, and we talked and texted each other multiple times a day, but I still missed him. After the wedding, I stayed with him for another two weeks. But word of my return to public performing had spread, and I was suddenly inundated with calls from various orchestras and organizations that wanted to book me to perform with them or for them. I happily passed all the information to my new agent, Shonda Davis, and the pair of us sifted through the offers to put together a reasonable list.
The pared-down list had me meeting conductors and organizers from the US and Europe and putting together what amounted to a two-month tour. Quite a few of the meetings took place in Manhattan, so I reluctantly decided that I needed to return to my apartment. Sean came with me and stayed for a couple of days, but he had a hotel to run, and I had rehearsals for the Gershwin tribute and concert programs to create or approve.
Now I was standing in a room full of wealthy donors and music lovers, making small talk and glancing at the door for the hundredth time, waiting for Sean to walk through it. He’d texted me around five-twenty that they were out of the Lincoln Tunnel and headed up 8th Ave. God only knew how long that would take.
“Did you forget your thug boyfriend?”
I bristled at Pierce’s snide tone. I closed my eyes briefly and took a moment to center myself. Turning to face him, I said, “What do you want, Pierce?”
His eyes narrowed. I guessed he still wasn’t used to me not caring about his opinion. “Your mother called me after your boyfriend’s interview. Such a shame that he’s using you for his fifteen minutes of fame. I just wanted to see if you’d finally grown out of your desperation.”
Rage filled me. I was so done with all of this. I did not bother to lower my voice when I replied. “It’s ironic that you keep calling me desperate.Youare the one who called me two months ago.Youare the one who keeps coming to me even after I’ve told you on multiple occasions that I want nothing to do with you. So let me make this abundantly clear since you seem to have difficulty with comprehension. Do not call me, text me, or send me mail of any kind. If you see me on the street, keep walking. If we’re in the same room, pretend I don’t exist. Leave. Me. Alone.”
Pierce’s face was pale by the time I finished my diatribe. The room was completely silent, and everyone was staring at us. A familiar scent filled my nostrils just as a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
“Hey, baby,” Sean murmured in my ear. “Sorry I’m late.”
I sighed with relief and relaxed into his warmth and strength. “It’s okay. I’m glad you made it.”
Tony and Marco appeared on either side of us. Pierce was still frozen in place in front of me, no doubt shocked that I’d caused a scene in public. Tony took a small step forward and said, “I’m going to have to ask you to move along, Mr. Ingram. Mr. Fitzgerald has made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to speak to you.”
Pierce’s lip rose in a contemptuous sneer, but he wisely kept his mouth shut as he walked around us and left the room. I turned in Sean’s arms and just let him hold me. Sean tightened his hold and whispered, “That was the most epic takedown I’ve ever seen. I wish I’d gotten a picture of his face.”
I snorted a laugh into his chest and then had to fight off a fit of giggles. The people around us resumed their conversations. I was sure most of them were talking about what had just happened.
“I’m so glad you made it. I missed you this week.”
“I missed you too, baby.” He gave me a sweet kiss. “I was thinking about your tour, and I came up with some dates when I could meet you where you are.”
Warmth flooded me at the thought that Sean was going out of his way to spend time with me. “Really? What did you come up with?”
“So,” he began, “Boston in early September is easy. I can drive there, or take Amtrak if I don’t feel like driving, and spend a couple of days with you—as long as you don’t try to drag me to a Red Sox game.”
“A what now?” I asked with my hands on my hips. “Take that back.”
Sean laughed and kissed me again. “Chicago is a couple of weeks after that, and I can get a flight there pretty easily. Same with San Francisco in October. I can make them a couple of long weekends.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said.
