Should I have told her then that I loved her? Would it have changed anything if she’d known before she left?
Equipment crashed on the stage behind the curtain, bring me back to the reality of my solitude. I lifted my head and could have sworn I saw Connor at the bar, flirting with a cute bartender … aaaaaand now I was hallucinating. Great.
I stood, ready to excuse myself to the can, but Kate grabbed my forearm.
The curtain swayed. When it opened, somebody I didn’t love would stand on that stage, wiping out the memories I was desperate not to lose.
“Please, Cruz, trust me,” she said. “Stay.”
Then a new sound rang out: the light stroke of a piano. A few scales and arpeggios, executed quickly and efficiently.
But that stage didn’t have a piano.
My heartbeat quickened. Kate politely averted her eyes to focus on the stage.
The song’s downbeat: Prince’s bassline. Sinead’s sustained chord. Chris Cornell’s guitar intro.
My breath came faster. My hands started to shake.
The curtain remained closed, but a raspy voice resonated through the speakers. A voice I thought I’d never hear again outside of a press conference or interview, a voice I’d recognize anywhere, counting the hours and days that we’d been apart.
Her voice was raw, the emotion she restrained aching for release. She sang about how in our time apart, she could do whatever she wanted, but nothing would take away her blues. Instead of the bold liberation I’d heard when she sang with me, her beautiful voice cracked with grief.
The curtain slid open: there she was, alone on the stage. No backup band. Nowhere to hide. Just Tori and her piano. Did she buy it for the bar, just to do this for me?
I stood beside the stage, though I didn’t remember moving. Her voice shook, comparing herself to a bird without a song. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she allowed the entire bar to hear her pain.
Over the bridge, she spoke into the microphone. “Cruz,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I don’t know if it’s too late, but—I love you, Cruz.”
My heart pounded against my ribs, and I gripped my chest. My whole body swayed, nearly doubling over from the shock and relief.
“I love you, too,” I said loudly, mouthing it clearly in case she shouldn’t hear it over the piano.
A sob echoed through the mic. Her fingers, so practiced, faltered on the keys. Her head dropped and her shoulders shook.
I was across the stage. I had to be on that bench beside her, had to touch her.
I cradled her cheeks, wiping away the tears from her upturned face. She kissed me then, salty, needy and breathless. Her hand never left the keys, adding her own flourishes.
When the final chord ended I lifted her off the piano bench, the pedal under her foot abruptly thumping. She wrapped her legs around my waist—inappropriate for a woman of her stature, but she didn’t seem to give a shit about propriety.
I carried her down the steps, looking over to the bar where Kate lowered her camera phone and mouthed, “Told you so.” Beside her, Connor lifted his hand in a silent salute to Tori, his expression brimming with pride and relief. Grace wiped away a tear as Alex wrapped an arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her temple.
Tori murmured in my ear, “Can we go home now?”
Home.I faltered, a sob escaping my lips. I lowered her feet to the floor so I could steady myself on a nearby chair. She placed a calming hand on my back, leaning closer. “We have a lot to talk about, but I ….” she exhaled. “I’m sorry I left, it was the biggest mistake of my life. Your songs, they …“ her voice cracked. “They held me together. And I don’t want to go another day without you.”
She reached up to tuck a loose hand behind my ear, and the simple touch of her fingers was a balm on my battered heart. When she flipped her wrist, I saw the swelling, remembering her dad's his obscure explanation that morning.
“What happened to your—” Her face went stony, lips drawn in a tight line. “Are you safe, baby?”
Her mouth softened when she saw my worry, then kicked up at the corner. “I fired Spencer.”
I stared in shock … but something didn’t add up. I ran my thumb along her palm. Had it hurt to play piano? “Then why would—”
“And I broke his nose.” She mimicked bringing the heel of her hand to my face. “He didn’t protect the moneymaker.”
“Oh my god,” I tugged her close, placing a kiss on her temple. “The cobra finally struck.”
