I played through our final two pieces on autopilot, and after the applause finally died down, I made my way offstage on unsteady legs. Backstage, other performers werecongratulating me, and fellowship donors were trying to shake my hand, but I needed answers.
I found Maestro Brennan in the hallway behind the stage, loosening his white bow tie.
“Maestro,” I said, still breathless, “how did you get that piece?”
He studied me with his intense gaze that always made me want to fidget. “A young man came to see me last week. Brought me several of your compositions, including that one. Said you were too stubborn to show them yourself, but that the world needed to hear your music.”
My heart stopped. “What young man?”
“He said his name was Drew. He was quite persuasive about the quality of your work, though I must admit I was skeptical at first. But he was right. You are very talented, Ms. Tinsley, and I wholeheartedly believe the audience needed to hear your music tonight. The Montana Phil has committed to reaching a younger audience, and I couldn’t think of a better way to do that than to perform a piece composed by someone in that same demographic. To show our sponsors the bright future for Montana musicians.”
My nose stung as those pesky tears burned behind my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered before walking back to the dressing room on shaky legs.
Drew had gone to Brennan.
He had brought my music and somehow convinced one of the most respected conductors in the region to include my composition at the most important concert of the year.
All this time, I’d been so focused on whether our entire relationship had been built on a lie. I’d questioned every moment, every touch, every whispered confession, wondering what was real and what was performance. ButDrew’s actions had been telling me everything I needed to know, and I’d been too hurt and stubborn to listen.
My feet picked up the pace as my brain caught up to my body. I had to go to him.
I had to fix this.
I raced toward the green room where I’d left my things. I needed to pack up my violin, grab my purse, and get to Drew’s house. I needed to tell him I was sorry, and I hoped like hell I wasn’t too late.
I quickly changed into the leggings and T-shirt I’d brought and then grabbed my violin case and headed for the exit, my mind racing. What would I say? How could I even begin to apologize for the pain I’d put us both through over the last two weeks?
The cool evening air hit my face as I pushed through the concert hall’s back exit into the parking lot. I fumbled around in my purse looking for my car keys, already planning the drive to Drew’s house and the speech I needed to make.
I looked up at my car and stopped dead.
Drew was leaning against the driver’s side door, hands in his pockets, watching me with an expression of hope and terror mixed in equal measure. He was wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt, like he’d dressed up for the concert, and his hair was slightly mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
I loved his hair like that.
And God, I’d missed him.
“Hey, Tins,” he said softly, his voice carrying across the nearly empty parking lot.
“Drew.” His name came out as barely a whisper.
He straightened up but didn’t move away from my car. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
“You went to Maestro Brennan.”
“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. Then he leveled me with his gaze, and there was no way to describe his look as anything other than fierce determination. “I wanted you to hear how talented you are from someone who actually knows music.” He took a step closer. “You’re so incredibly gifted, Harper. You could literally do anything in the music world and yet you choose to focus on how you can use music to help people. But for once, I wanted you to realize thatyourmusic can help people.” He’d been taking small steps closer as he spoke, until the toes of his shoes nearly touched mine and I had to tilt my head to look up at him.
God, he was so handsome.
And that was absolutely not the thing I should be thinking when he was saying the sweetest things I’d ever heard.
He raised his hand and cupped my cheek. “I love you, Harper. I’ll literally do anything to prove it to you. If you need me to get on my knees and crawl to you to prove it, I will.”
I pressed my hand to his lips, afraid if I didn’t stop him, he’d keep going, but he wasn’t in the wrong here.
This was on me.
