“Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
He grinned. “I meant you look nervous. Which is totally normal, by the way. Even the best hockey players get pre-game jitters.”
“This isn’t a hockey game, Drew. This fellowship could change everything for me.” The words came out sharper than I intended, edged with the anxiety I’d been trying to suppress. But I needed this win—to prove I was good enough.
Instead of bristling, Drew just nodded. “I know.” He glanced at my violin case. “Ready to show me what you’ve been working on?”
I gripped the handle of my case tighter. Even though practicing for Drew had been my idea, now that I was here, vulnerability washed over me. Performing my original composition for him felt too intimate.
“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” I admitted. “It’s still rough.”
“Hey,” he said softly. “I promise not to boo or throw popcorn. And considering the amount of time you’ve put into this, I have no doubt it’s going to be beautiful and not the slightest bit rough.”
For some stupid reason, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away, grateful that Drew had already turned toward the living room, giving me a moment to compose myself.
“Let me put her down,” he said over his shoulder. “Then I’m all yours.”
All yours.
The words echoed in my head as I followed him, trying not to read into them while hating that the moment he’d said them, my heart had skipped a beat.
Oh my God, this audition was turning me into a basket case.
Drew gently transferred Rory to her bassinet in the corner of the living room, his movements so careful and tender it made my chest ache. He’d become a different person since she arrived—still Drew, with his quick wit and occasional cockiness, but more open and vulnerable in a way I never would’ve expected from him.
Once Rory was settled, he cleared a space in the middle of the living room, moving the coffee table to create an impromptu performance area. Then he settled on the couch, giving me his full attention.
“The stage is yours, Tinsley,” he said with a small smile that made my stomach flutter.
I took my violin from its case, going through the familiar ritual of checking the tuning, adjusting my stance, finding my center. The routine calmed me, as it always did.
“I’m going to play my original piece first,” I said, positioning the violin under my chin. “It’s called ‘Broken Patterns.’ It’s still a work in progress, so?—”
“Harper,” Drew interrupted gently. “Stop apologizing for your music before you’ve even played it. Just show me what you’ve got.”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and began to play.
The opening notes were slow, a haunting melody that gradually built in complexity. I’d structured the piece to begin traditionally, then slowly incorporate more contemporary techniques—a musical journey from classical foundationsto modern expression. The music flowed through me, each phrase telling a story I couldn’t put into words.
As I played, I kept my eyes closed, too afraid of what I might see on Drew’s face as he listened. I focused on the music and poured my heart into it, sliding my bow across the strings and dragging out the final note until it hung in the air between us. It slowly faded to silence.
I lowered my violin, simultaneously taking a deep breath and bracing myself for his reaction. When I opened my eyes, the intensity in Drew’s gaze made my breath catch.
He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at me in what could only be described as awe mixed with something even more dangerous—heat.
“That was…” He paused, searching for words. “Harper, that was incredible.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Stop.” He stood up, crossing the small space between us. “Don’t downplay it. That piece was beautiful. It was you—complex and unexpected and completely captivating.”
The sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. “Thank you,” I managed, looking down at my violin to hide the emotion I knew was written all over my face.
“Your parents are idiots if they can’t see how talented you are,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce.
I looked up, startled by the anger in his tone. “Drew?—”
“No, I mean it.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “How could anyone listen to you play and not be moved? How could they not support something you’re so obviously meant to do? The fact you created that piece out of thin air is insane, Harper.Neverunderestimate how talented you are.”
