Bernard kissed her forehead. ‘Wait there. I’ll go back and get your case.’
She was about to protest and tell him she’d go back herself, but something stopped her. She actually wanted a moment to herself, to replay her audition in her mind, to remember what it had felt like to be on the stage.
Bernard was only gone a moment though, and when he returned he dropped to one knee and opened the case for her. She opened her mouth to stop him, dropped down low to her haunches to try to prevent him from opening it, but it was too late.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, taking one of the folded pieces of paper out.
‘Please don’t,’ she said, trying to snatch it from him.
But Bernard’s arms were longer than hers and he opened it without her being able to stop him, smiling down at her as he read the note.
‘I can’t believe you kept this,’ he said.
She blushed, hating how hot her cheeks were. ‘It was the first note you ever wrote me. Of course I kept it!’
‘And this?’ he asked.
Alexandra didn’t even bother trying to stop him this time. Bernard unfolded the sheet of music.
‘The day you told me what you were going to play,’ he said. ‘I wrote on this.’
‘You left it on the pillow beside my bed,’ she murmured. ‘I’d been working on the piece all night, trying to understand every part and intricacy of the composition.’
Bernard cupped her cheek against his palm, and she found herself staring at his mouth.
‘My greatest fear was that you wouldn’t believe in yourself,’ he whispered.
‘And my greatest fear is losing you.’ The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, and suddenly all she could wish for was to retract them. But Bernard didn’t falter.
‘There is nothing you could do, nothing that could happen, that would make that come true.’
Before she could answer he kissed her, gently, a barely-there brush of their lips. She wasn’t going to ruin the moment by telling him all the things that could part them, but even his kiss was only enough to distract her, not to make her forget. She never took Bernard for granted, but she did sometimes wonder what he saw in her.
She looked away and put her violin in the case, her bow carefully tucked in its place, followed by the papers Bernard had removed. She plucked them from his hand and placed them where they belonged.
‘Are you certain you don’t have any other treasures tucked away in there?’ he teased.
‘Well, if you don’t count the letters from my past lovers…’
Bernard laughed, his head tipped back as they rose and began to walk.
‘You’re going to be the most fabulous new member of the orchestra,’ he finally said, leaning closer and putting his arm around her. ‘Your family will be so proud of you.’
Alexandra sighed. It was true; her aunt and uncle, and her cousins, would be immensely proud of her. But her father was another story entirely, if he ever bothered to remember he had a daughter.
‘You don’t think they will?’
‘The family you know will be, of course they will, but my father…’
Bernard looked down at her and she braved a smile. He was one of the few people in her life who genuinely understood what it was like for her.
‘Do you think your parents will ever come to watch you perform?’ she asked.
Bernard shook his head, looking away as he spoke. ‘My mother would. If she could make her own decision on the matter I know she would, but when my father disowned me, he told me I’d never see either of them again, and he’s been true to his word.’
Tears welled in Alexandra’s eyes. ‘You only have one mother. Please, Bernard, can we not at least try to see her?’
Bernard began to walk faster, his stride too long for her to match.
