He stops in front of her. Striking. Inky black hair, electric blue eyes, and if disinterest were a scent, he’d wear it stronger than a teenager with a new bottle of Axe.
His gaze skims over me. He tilts his head slightly, then returns his attention to Meg.
“Why is my phone going off with all these notifications?” he demands. “And why can’t they be silenced?”
I’m close enough to catch the snicker she suppresses before it fully forms. No one else does.
“I was tasked with making sure you drink enough water and eat at normal intervals.”
“You were also tasked with not interrupting me while I compose.”
“Eat, drink, silence the alarms,” she replies evenly. “Everything was placed within reach. You weren’t disturbed.”
He makes a low, irritated sound and shoots Remy a dark look. Then, after one last glance in my direction, he turns and stalks off.
Remy steps in and gives Meg a light pat on the shoulder. “Well played, Meg. Go to lunch. No need to rush back. Enjoy it.”
He turns to me, his gaze warm but sharp. “Christianna, it was nice meeting you. You’re welcome to see Meg whenever you like.” His eyes flick briefly to my violin case. “I imagine you’ll be here often enough anyway.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. I nod, glancing down at my shoes.
Chapter seventeen
Christianna
I receive the congratulatory email confirming I’ve been selected as a section player. Perfect. I no longer love being the center of attention.
Catching up with Meg had been cathartic. I forget sometimes how easy it is to be with someone who already knows you. She’s been there through thick and thin. Lately, it’s been thin.
I haven’t been a good friend in return.
I was surprised, and a little saddened, to see her move into administrative work. Her heart has always been ballet.
I text Meg.
I got in as a section player. I’m so excited.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Are you okay with that? I thought you would’ve gone for first chair.
I stare at the screen for a second.
My anxiety wouldn’t survive that much attention.
She knows my history. She will understand. The same way she left ballet.
Chapter eighteen
Erik
She hasn’t been as present lately. I wonder if it’s because of all the people coming and going. When performances begin, will she disappear entirely?
I head out to the cemetery looking for inspiration. Usually, when I’m composing, the music fights for dominance. Now I wait. The silence is unfamiliar. I don’t know how to navigate the shift.
My phone keeps pulling me back. Eat. Drink water. Check emails. Review the calendar. Appointments with staff. Interruptions layered on interruptions.
I went back and researched the history of the building. After the professor’s death, they tried to remain open. Things went missing. Staff were injured. There was always a warning beforehand. A note.
