“Okay,” Alec asked, his eyes sparkling. “What are you thinking?”
Taking a deep breath, I settled the violin between my shoulder and chin, raised my bow, and started to play. The new tune flourishing inside my head flowed out of me, filling the room with a wild, haunting sound. When I finished, I lowered the instrument and peeked over at the boys, nervous about their reaction. “Something like that? We could add it to the pre-chorus.”
Xander gaped at me. “Did you come up with that just now?”
I nodded. “I—yeah. Was that bad? If you don’t like it, you can ignore me. It was just an idea.”
“Indie,” Xander said, his mouth still hanging open. “That was amazing.”
Alec rubbed his chin. “I like it, but can you go higher on that last note?”
“Sure.” I started over, this time making a small change to the ending. “How was that?”
“Good,” Alec answered, but he wasn’t looking at me. He’d thrown himself onto the rolling chair in front of the mixing board and was busy booting up a computer. “I need you to play it again, exactly how you did just now.”
“Um, okay. Why?”
He glanced back at me, his brow pinched together as if I’d asked the most obvious question in the world. “For the song.”
“Wait a minute.” My breath caught in my throat. “You want to recordmeand add it to Xander’s song?” I’d never created new music before, only performed existing pieces, but something about this was exhilarating—I felt jittery and ecstatic all at once.
“Yes, Indie. Your idea, your melody, your playing—it’s all perfect.”
* * *
“How’d it go?” Dad asked, appearing at the door as soon as I stepped into the mudroom.
After recording the new instrumental part for Xander’s song, I wished him and Alec good luck on the next leg of their tour and drove home. Although I wanted to spend as much time with Xander as possible, I’d been at the studio for over an hour and didn’t want to push my luck. Not when Dad was trying his best to be as present as possible. Surely he’d notice if I was out all afternoon.
“It didn’t.” With a sigh, I dropped my bag and car keys into my designated cubby, then bent over to yank off my Docs. “Violet was already gone by the time I got there. Is she home?”
“No,” he said, crossing his arms as my first boot thunked against the floor. It was quickly followed by its mate. “I thought I told you to text her before you left?”
“I did, but she didn’t answer,” I said, straightening up. “I figured she was busy working and hadn’t seen it, but I guess not.” My heart fluttered uncomfortably around the half-truth, and I quickly looked away.
“Oh, sweetie,” Dad said sympathetically. He must have misinterpreted my guilt as disappointment, because he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “I know you feel bad, but Violet will come around. Just give her time, okay?”
Nodding against his chest, I closed my eyes and gave myself a moment to enjoy the comfort of his hug before pulling away. “I ran into Alec at the recording studio. He mentioned something about a birthday party for Violet. Are we throwing one here tomorrow?”
Dad shook his head. “A few of her costars are hosting it at their place, and before you ask, the answer is no—you’re not allowed to go. You’re still grounded. We’re celebrating with your grandma next weekend at Vine & Dine.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on it.” Heaving a sigh, I gestured toward the back staircase. “Well, I’ll be upstairs. I need to get some homework done.”
“Okay. I’m ordering Pacific Crust for dinner tonight. What do you want on your pizza?”
“Just cheese, but can you get some of those garlic knots too?”
“Sure thing.” Dad turned to go, then paused in the doorway. When he glanced back at me, I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I was also wondering… Would you maybe want to watch a movie tonight?”
“With you?” I asked, not bothering to keep the surprise from my voice.
He nodded. “Since I missed the Halloween marathon, I thought we could watch something scary.”
My heart leapt at the suggestion, and I broke out into a grin. “Yeah, Dad. I’d really like that.”
“Good,” he said, returning my smile, and as if to signal the end of our conversation, his phone rang. “Duty calls, but I’ll see you later tonight, okay? You pick the movie, I’ll bring the popcorn.” Then he was off, punching Talk on his headset and heading down the hall to his office.
I watched him go, pleasantly surprised by our exchange. This was still the same Edward Jamiolkowski who reveled in workingtwelve-hour days, but now he was finding time to fit me in, even if it was only a movie or a quick chat.
