She gets up, moving to the music stand. “Now. We still have a little over half an hour left. Let’s go through the Mozart with the sheet music once without stopping. And then try it from memory again. I think maybe you just need a little reminder, a little something to help you focus right now, and you’ll have it. The notes are there. Trust your fingers to find them.”
Nodding, I lift the violin to my shoulder once more, sinking into the comforting familiarity of the chin rest cupping my jaw. Clara opens the music, and I start to play, the opening melody falling from my fingers, effortless and beautiful. Soon I’m lost in the flow of the music, peripherally aware of Clara turning the pages for me at the right places, but mostly in tune with the pressure of my fingers on the bow, the way my arm draws it across the strings, the solid feeling of the body of the violin against my hand as I shift to a higher position, the thin strands of metal digging into my fingertips.
When I let go of the last note, the bow lifting away from the string, Clara’s smile takes over her whole face. “Were you even looking at the music?”
“Um, not really. Not after the first page or so.”
“Good.” She pushes the desk of the music stand all the way down then crosses to her chair and resumes her seat. “Now, again. Just like that. That’s how you play.”
That reminder, that vote of confidence, is all I need.
And that is how I play.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jonathan
“I miss you so much,” I confide to Gabby over the phone, flopping back on the bed in my childhood room.
“I miss you too.” Her voice floats into my ear like she’s close enough to touch instead of twelve hundred miles away. I’ve been back in California since Friday night but it feels like it’s been weeks since I’ve seen her instead of a few days. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I still hate that I can’t be there with her like we’d planned.
“So you’re staying with your brother this week, right?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “The dorms are closed, so I can’t stay there.”
“If you need a place to get away, you know you can go to my house. Ben’s gone this week too. You’d have the place to yourself.”
She’s quiet, then, “Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
From her tone of voice, I don’t think she’s going to take me up on my offer, but I don’t want to argue with her about it.
“Tell me more about your meetings. What else did they say? What does Angela think?”
A grin creeps onto my face despite missing Gabby like a lost limb. “She says we have them by the balls. They all love the demo, and now we’re waiting to see who’ll offer up the best contract terms. She also says I’ll need to start cranking out more songs right away, because we’ll need enough to fill an album. And whoever I sign with will want to get me in the studio as quickly as possible to capitalize on the recent popularity.”
“That’s great.” She’s making an effort to be enthusiastic, but it falls flat.
My brows cinch together in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sighs. “It’s just been a weird week, and … I dunno. Maybe I’m getting sick or something.”
“I’m sorry. Sick how?”
“I don’t know. I just feel really blah. And bored. But I don’t want to do anything at the same time.” Another sigh. “I miss you. And I miss Lauren. And I love my brother, and my sister-in-law is great and all, but Lance works all day, and I don’t know. I just … miss you.”
“I miss you too, Gabby.” The forlorn quality of her voice twists in my chest. “I wish I could be there with you. We could hang out and watch movies all day. Or read. Or whatever you wanted to do.”
“That sounds so nice.”
“I’ll be back in a few more days. We can spend all day Sunday doing that if you want.”
“Okay.”
She sniffs, and I think she might be crying, but I don’t ask because I can’t do anything. And she sounds like she’s fighting it, so I don’t want to call attention to it if she doesn’t want me to. But I hate that she’s so upset. This trip was supposed to be a good thing. And it is. But being apart is hard. Christmas break is going to suck if this is what we’re like after less than a week.
We talk for a while longer until my mom knocks and pokes her head in my door. “Dinner’s ready in five,” she whispers before withdrawing, pulling the door closed quietly behind her.
“I gotta go, Gabby. I’ll text you later, and we’ll for sure talk again tomorrow.”
“Okay. I love you.”
A smile comes to my face as she says those words so easily. “Love you, too.” As I hang up, I’m more determined than ever that we’ll make this work.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gabby
My brother Lance shouts at the football game on TV, half-standing from his place on the couch. Even though I grew up watching the sport, both on TV at home and going to my brother’s games throughout my childhood, I never really got into it. I’ve always been more entertained watching the people watching the game, especially when they shout at the ref on TV like he can hear them.
Lance settles back into his seat on the other end of the couch, which has doubled as my bed for the last two nights. At least it’s comfy.
He glances my way as the game goes to a commercial for a time out or change of possession. I’m barely paying attention so I’m not sure. Lance clears his throat. “So, how are things?”
“Fine.” He’s been trying to get information out of me since I got here on Tuesday. The longer I’m here, the more he steps up the questioning.
“C’mon, Gabby. You’ve gotta give me more than that. I normally know everything about what’s been going on with you within twenty minutes of you showing up, from what you had for breakfast to the last time you went to the bathroom and how soon you need to practice or eat again. You’ve barely said anything in two days. I’m getting worried.”
Sighing, I fidget with a stray thread on my sleeve, casting a glance toward the kitchen where my sister-in-law Abby and Elena, a friend of theirs, are working on Thanksgiving dinner. Elena got here about an hour ago, and she and Abby have been in the kitchen talking for most of that time.
“I know it’s a small apartment, but I don’t think they’re paying much attention to us. Elena’s been kind of wrapped up in her own crap lately, which is why she’s here instead of with her family in the Tri-Cities.” He shifts to look at me better. “I know about Jonny B. On top of you guys being all over the place for a few weeks there, Mom and Dad have kept me in the loop since you haven’t. But I figured you’d be over here chattering away about him, lovestruck and over the moon about this guy. Instead you’re silent and withdrawn. Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
“Well, I’m what you’ve got. And you obviously need to talk to someone. You might explode if you keep all your words inside.”
“Haha.” I lean over to take a swipe at him, and he grabs me, pulling me into a headlock like he used to do when we’d horse around as kids.
I smack at his arms, annoyed that we’re on the couch and I don’t have room to maneuver out of it. “Fine, I’ll talk. Let go!” My voice is muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but he hears me and lets me up.
Brushing my hair out of my face, I glare at him. He just grins. “Talk. You promised. What’s going on? You talked to him on the phone last night, but you’ve seemed mopier ever since. Did he break up with you over the phone?” He doesn’t give me time to answer before his thick eyebrows draw down into a scowl. “He did, didn’t he? That asshole. Tell me when he’s back in town, and I’ll go beat him down for you. Too bad Chris is in Seattle still. He’s always down for putting assholes in their place.”
The last part is muttered more to himself than to me, and he looks down at his phone like he’s contemplating calling Chris, so he doesn’t see me shaking my head.
“No, Lance. No. That’s�
��it’s nothing like that. He didn’t break up with me. We didn’t break up.”
His scowl lifts as he looks at me again. “Okay. So, what’s with the moping? Bad news?”
I shake my head, turning my attention back to the little bit of thread sticking out of the hem of my sleeve. “No. He actually had good news. He has three labels courting him, so he can basically set the terms and get whatever he wants.”
Lance’s brows draw together again, in confusion this time. “Okay. That sounds like good news. So why does that make you sad?” His face clears. “Oh. Are you worried he’s going to break up with you? Is that the problem?”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I glance at him and look away. “Not exactly. Kinda. I don’t know.” I throw my hands up in the air, then return to plucking at that stupid thread like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, using it as a distraction to keep the tears at bay that burn behind my eyelids. “I’m not sure what to think. Or what to feel. I know we haven’t been together long, but I’m already in love with him.” I chance a quick glance at my brother out of the corner of my eye, but there’s no judgment on his face, just openness and concern. “But how is this going to work? Will he even come back for his last semester?”
“It seems kind of stupid to quit this close to the end.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah. But even if he finishes, what then? We keep going, I get more attached, and it’ll just hurt more when things end, as they inevitably will, after he graduates. Because once he’s done, he’ll go back to California for good. Record his album, go on tour, and become famous again. On posters in adolescent girls’ rooms all over the country. Women throwing themselves at him everywhere he goes. And where does that leave me?” I turn my hands over, palms up. A tear falls into the center of my right hand, and I blink hard, looking up so more tears can’t escape. “Here. Alone.” I shake my head and sniff hard. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can take being with him for longer only to have my heart ripped out of my chest in the end. And that’s what’s going to happen. I don’t see any way to avoid it.”
“Oh, Gabby.” He pulls me into a gruff hug, and I don’t resist or push away, taking the comfort offered by my big brother. When I was little and he was still in high school, he’d listen to me tell him all about my day every evening, and would hug me just like this when I’d had a bad day.
When he lets me go, my tears have left a wet spot on his navy blue waffle-weave henley. I wipe my eyes, sniffing back more tears. It’s stupid to cry about this now. I’m still deciding what to do. But I think I need to break up with him.
And that hurts.
Lance clears his throat. “You know, I may not be the best person to give you advice on this, but Abby and I were in a similar position when we were first together. And that worked out okay.”
Shaking my head, I give him a watery smile. “But you never wanted to move back to Texas. You just felt obligated to. You wanted to stay here, even before Abby came into the picture. It’s not the same. I’m just starting school. I need to stay here. And his dreams are pulling him elsewhere.” I spread my hands in front of me. “I can’t see any way to change that unless one of us gives up something.” I shake my head again. “I can’t ask him to do that. Performing is in his blood. I couldn’t ask him to give that up for me.”
“Couldn’t he postpone it for a while?”
“That’s not how it works, Lance. It’s a fickle industry. And no one understands that more than him.” With a shrug, I pick at that stupid thread again, finally breaking it off. But now I don’t have anything to fiddle with as a distraction. “I guess we could make a deal that we wait until I’ve graduated or we have more flexibility with where we live. But that’s just as unfair to both of us.”
Lance is quiet, and when I dare to look up, his face is solemn and thoughtful. “Could you transfer to a school in California? I mean, then you could be close to him and still pursue your dream. Maybe it’d be even better for you being in a bigger city than up here.”
When I skewer him with a look, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. It was just an idea.”
With another sniff, I scrub my sleeve over my cheeks. “No, I know. It’s just … say I do try to transfer. What if I can’t get into another school? And will all my credits transfer or will I have to start over? And I really like my teacher here. She’s the main reason I chose to come here. Plus, I got a fantastic scholarship from the music department. Could I get that somewhere in California? And would that somewhere be close enough to wherever Jonathan needs to live to matter? And then what about when he goes on tour? I won’t be able to go with him. No. I don’t think it’s worth it. We’ll just end up in this same place again. Him leaving, and me staying. I don’t see any way around that. What we want is too different.”
Lance doesn’t say anything, just pulls me into another hug. “I’m sorry, Gabby,” he whispers. “You’re right. This does suck.” He lifts a hand, and I can tell his attention has been diverted.
Pulling back, I see Abby peeking out of the kitchen. She gives us a small smile. “Sorry to interrupt. We’re about to set the table for dinner. Everything okay?”
Her eyes linger on my tear-stained face, but I nod and try to give her a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. We’re fine. Do you need help setting the table?”
My attempts at brightness are forced, but Abby accepts it without question. “Sure. That’d be great.”
I follow her into the kitchen and take the stack of plates, then get the silverware and glasses.
There’s nothing I can do about Jonathan and I right now. He’s in California with his family, and I’m here. Which just proves my point about him always going to be leaving, and me always staying. I push that aside for now, determined to enjoy Thanksgiving with my brother, sister-in-law, and their friend.
But the prospect of ending things with Jonathan hangs over my head, making me more subdued, and casting a shadow over the rest of my Thanksgiving break.
Chapter Thirty
Jonathan
I breathe a sigh of relief when I get back to my house. No photographers linger outside, apparently bored with me being gone for a week. Or they’re all in California and haven’t gotten back yet. Either way, I don’t care. It’s nice to be able to drag my suitcase from the car to the door without flashes going off in my face. It wasn’t a problem in the gated community where my parents moved us after we started getting media attention when I was in high school. So it’s been a relief for over a week now.
But most of all, I’m relieved to be close enough to see Gabby again. She’s been acting weird when we’ve talked the last couple of days, hurrying to get off the phone, sounding sad and out of sorts. Not at all like the talkative, opinionated girl I’m used to.
Pulling out my phone, I send her a quick text before I start unpacking. I’m home, finally. Come by in 30 to pick you up?
While I’m tossing dirty clothes in the hamper and putting clean ones back in my drawers and closet, I get her response. My brother is letting me borrow his car. I’ll be there soon.
Huh. Normally she’s happy to have me pick her up. But if her brother’s cool with being without his car until sometime tomorrow, then I’m not going to complain.
I finish unpacking and put away my suitcase, even though I’ll need it again in just a couple of weeks. Is Gabby going to leave right away after finals? Probably, since it’s her first semester. I know she misses her family, and I’m sure they’d like her home as soon as they can get her. But the thought of being away from her for a month so soon after our recent, and painful, week-long separation makes me ache deep inside. Maybe I can fly out to Texas for a week or two? That’d give us both something to look forward to.
And maybe, since she’ll have her own room, we can have some fun sexting at night. That wasn’t possible this trip with her sleeping on her brother’s couch. I tried a couple of times, but she shut it down, saying that she didn’t want them to overhear anything if sh
e couldn’t keep herself quiet.
A knock on the door has me furrowing my brow as I head into the living room. Gabby’s standing there when I open the door. I give her a funny look and pull her inside, into my arms. “Hey. What’s with the knocking? You should’ve just come in.”
She shrugs, unable to respond because I’m kissing her, imprinting the feel and taste of her into my body again. Her fingers clutch convulsively at my shirt, but her hands don’t slide behind my neck like they normally do. She’s responding to my kiss, but it feels like she’s holding back.
Pulling back, I look her over, noticing for the first time the sad cast to her face. “What’s wrong, Gabby?”
She ducks her head so I can’t see her face anymore and steps out of my arms.
“Gabby?”
After taking another two or three steps back, she straightens her shoulders, her chin coming up first before her eyelids finally lift, pinning me with her gaze. I recognize this move. This is Gabby gathering her courage. But why does she need to do that?
Before I can ask what’s going on again, she answers my question. With the worst thing I’ve ever heard.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
My ears are ringing, and I reach out to hold onto the arm of the couch as the world tilts. “What?”
She starts to wrap her arms around herself, but forces her hands to her sides, still keeping her gaze steady. “I’m sorry. It’s not a good idea. You said when we first got together that you thought you should stay away from me. You were probably right.” Her voice finally breaks on the last sentence.
“What are you talking about?” I can’t process what she’s saying. Her words don’t make sense. I should’ve stayed away? She wishes we hadn’t gotten together?
Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1) Page 18
