Symphony in Blue

by M. J. Duncan

  She locked the front door behind herself and reactivated the alarm before making her way through the living room to the short hallway that led to her master bedroom and the smaller study that she had turned into a library-slash-practice studio, her mind reeling, trying to come to some sort of a decision as to what she should do.

  She might not be completely thrilled with the path her personal life has taken, but she was comfortable with it. Life with Mallory might not be full of passion and the fluttery feeling that had filled her chest when Dana had touched her, but it was her life. It was steady. Predictable. Dependable.

  She carefully leaned her cello case against the frame of the French doors in her study that opened onto the front terrace, and bit her lip as she ran a gentle finger over the curve of the vaguely opalescent-hued carbon fiber. Music was an exacting master, demanding perfection and accepting nothing less, and Mallory understood her life and her dedication to her craft because she was the same way. One did not become the concertmaster of an orchestra as prestigious as the Los Angeles Philharmonic by the time they’re thirty-five without having an insane amount of drive and dedication. And, yeah, what she and Mallory had together might not be all champagne and roses, but there was something to be said for having a partner who understood the demands of a profession such as theirs.

  And, until twenty-four hours ago, until Dana Ryan came into her life, that had been enough. But the feeling of Dana’s hands gliding over her skin and the naked appreciative desire that had shone in her eyes had rekindled a spark inside her that she had thought was long since lost. A spark that ached to be seen and found beautiful. A spark that had been all but snuffed out in deference to keeping the status quo and not daring to wish for anything more.

  But it was there now, burning dimly in the hollowness that filled her chest, at once afraid to bloom but daring to hope that somehow, some way, it might be carefully tended and allowed to grow, and it was that spark that made the sickness that had roiled in her gut even worse. Because for as wrong as she had been to fall into bed with Dana Ryan, for as much as she knew she should regret it, there was a part of her that absolutely did not regret those few stolen moments of happiness.

  She ran a hand through her hair as she gave her cello one last lingering look before turning on her heel and wandering into her bedroom. Though the sun had only just finished setting, she was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull the covers up over her head, and pretend that everything was okay. She knew that it was wrong and that she was a complete, unmitigated asshole for it, but there was that tiny part of herself that selfishly clung to the memory of how nice it had been to feel wanted and desired. That delighted in the memory of gentle hands and soft lips caressing her skin, taking her to heights she had never before reached and would likely never experience again.

  What she had done was unforgivable but, at the same time, god, it had felt good to feel so alive for a few hours.

  To actually be happy instead of just saying she was.

  She left the lights off as she changed out of the jeans and shirt she had worn on the plane and into her pajamas. The ceiling fan spinning silently over her bed cast a gentle breeze over her as she slipped beneath the lightweight comforter, and she curled in on herself as the weight of what she had done and the potentially disastrous ramifications those actions wrought settled heavily on her chest.

  She closed her eyes and sighed as pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, and offered up a silent prayer that when she woke in the morning, she would have some idea of what she should do.

  EIGHT

  Gwen arrived at the Walt Disney Concert Hall the next morning her usual hour before the scheduled start of rehearsal. On a typical day, she would use this extra time before the orchestra assembled to unpack and warm up—to prepare both her mind and her body for the upcoming rehearsal—but after a night of fitful sleep that left her feeling more hungover than the tequila she had consumed in Maui, she just didn't have the energy to do it. So instead of going inside and finding her preferred spot in BP Hall, the second, smaller performance area in the building that was located above the lobby, she decided to bypass the striking building’s interior altogether and carried her cello to the outdoor garden on the third level. Though the garden was always open to the public completely free of charge, it was usually quiet unless there was a performance, and she had seen nary a soul from the moment she made her way through the narrow chasm of curving polished steel to the pavered garden that was set above the bustling streets of downtown Los Angeles, a world apart from the bustling traffic and smog.

  Sleep had not come easily to her the night before, and when it had, it was fitful at best. Guilt over what she had done and indecision about what she should do next had made it impossible for her to do more than doze off-and-on throughout the night, and she didn’t have the energy to try and stifle her yawn as she dragged a chair into the shade beside the Lillian Disney Fountain—the architectural centerpiece of the garden. She had loved the rose-inspired fountain from the moment she first laid eyes on its sweeping curves and curling waves of sculpted petals covered in a mosaic of broken Delft tiles, and she had always found the sound of water quietly tumbling from petal to petal incredibly relaxing.

  She leaned her cello case against the outer wall of the hall and sat heavily in the seat. She ran her hands through her hair as she slumped in the chair, and closed her eyes behind the mirrored lenses of her Burberry aviator sunglasses, desperate for a few minutes of peace.

  Her mind began to quiet as she took slow, deep breaths and forced herself to focused on the sound of the water in the fountain and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. Thoughts of Dana and what she had done were still there, of course, but they were pushed to the background, and she sighed with relief as a much-needed stillness settled inside her.

  That stillness was shattered a few minutes later, however, when a familiar voice called out, “You look like shit.”

  She smiled in spite of herself as she opened her eyes to see her best friend, Luke Benoist, standing in front of her, and shook her head at his usual cheeky grin. At thirty-eight, he was two years her senior, but with his smooth skin and twice-monthly cropped ash-colored hair that was left just long enough on top for a messy faux hawk, he looked not a day over twenty-five. If he had been anyone other than her best friend and the nicest person she had ever known, she would have hated him for it. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Luke laughed and set his clarinet case on the ground between his feet. Their summer rehearsals at Disney Hall were casual, so he was wearing his usual shorts and flip-flops. And, with his slightly faded and rumpled black polo shirt, he looked like he could have been a graduate student wandering the paths of USC’s Thornton School of Music instead of a man who actually taught the occasional seminar there. “You’re welcome.” He grinned as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “Seriously though, I would’ve thought you’d look more relaxed after your quick trip to paradise.”

  Gwen pursed her lips and nodded sardonically. “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” Luke’s brow furrowed. “Is it Mal? Did she do something?”

  “No. She didn’t do anything. She’s been in Boston for the last two weeks doing that thing with the Pops, remember?”

  “Doesn’t mean she can’t be her usual charming self over the phone,” he pointed out with a sigh. He had butted heads with Mallory from the moment she’d been hired as the concertmaster for LA Phil four years ago, and his initial dislike for her had not softened over time. “But fine, if she didn’t do anything, what is it that has you looking like you just watched somebody take a sledgehammer to a Stradivarius?”

  Gwen shuddered at the thought of such a priceless instrument being damaged. “I don’t look that bad.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Luke countered as he crouched down in front of her. “Seriously, Gwen. What’s going on?”

  She took
a deep breath and let it go slowly. Luke was her best friend and her sounding board, and maybe he would have some idea of what she should do. “I…” She paused and looked around the garden to make sure they were alone. The halls of LA Phil were much like a high school’s—the juicier the gossip, the faster it spread—and she could not afford to have anyone else overhear what she was about to say. When she was certain that they were completely alone, she cleared her throat and said softly, “I, um, met somebody. In Maui.”

  Luke’s forehead wrinkled with confusion, but his expression remained otherwise neutral. “Okay…”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “I mean, not meet her, of course, I meet people all the time, but I didn’t, I’d never meant to…” She sighed. “She was just so nice and funny and beautiful, and then there was tequila and dancing and…”

  Luke’s eyes went wide. “Okay. Hold up. I’m going to need you to go back to the beginning here. How did you meet…” His voice trailed off and he arched a brow questioningly.

  “Dana. Dana Ryan,” Gwen supplied quietly, hating the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of her even now.

  “Right. So how did you meet this Dana Ryan?”

  “In the elevator at the hotel.” Gwen scrubbed her hands over her face as she proceeded to run through everything that had happened, from meeting Dana and Regan that first night all the way through waking up in Dana’s bed the morning before.

  “Fuck.” Luke sat back on his haunches and grinned as he shook his head. “Gwen Harrison! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

  “Luke!”

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist.” Luke chuckled and lightly punched her knee. “Good for you!”

  Gwen huffed a breath and shook her head. “Can you please be serious for five minutes?”

  His expression sobered. “I am serious. Mal treats you like shit unless she wants something from you. I honestly don’t see why you won’t just break up with her, already.”

  “Because that wouldn’t impact my career at all,” Gwen muttered. Orchestras were incestuous by nature, long hours and unique job requirements meant that more than a few relationships had been forged on the stage, but Mallory Collingswood was not just a violinist. She was arguably the best violinist in the world, and she was second-in-charge of the most innovative orchestra in the country. Gwen was good, very good, but Mallory Collingswood was that once-in-a-generation genius that had people from all over the world copying her technique, trying to find the thing that made her so goddamn special. Gwen knew that she wouldn’t be fired for the demise of their relationship, but the elite music world was a small one and she couldn’t be certain how such a development would affect her in the long run. “And, besides, she’s not that bad.”

  “I won’t point out that ‘she’s not that bad’ wasn't your first argument, and will instead just say—yes, she is.”

  “She’s focused on her career. As are you and I and the other hundred and three of our colleagues.” Gwen sighed, tired of defending Mallory when, lately, half the time she agreed with what Luke said. But he didn’t see Mallory when she was at her sweetest—bringing her breakfast in bed or playing softly for her, a breathtaking smile lighting her face as she looked at her like nothing else in the world mattered. That was the Mallory she had fallen in love with once upon a time, the one who could be so engaged and focused that it was almost frightening, but the flip-side of that intensity was that when her focus was on something else, Gwen was barely a shadow on the periphery of her thoughts. And, for as much as it pained her to admit, that distant Mallory was the one she had been in a relationship with for the last year, with only the briefest visits from the woman who made her laugh and smile like Dana had. “I just…tell me what to do. Do I tell her? I should tell her. Right?”

  “Shit, Gwen,” Luke sighed thoughtfully, and she was relieved that he was finally taking her situation seriously. “I…yeah.” He nodded. “I mean, it’s definitely the right thing to do and I don’t even like her.” He shot her an apologetic look. “But…I don’t see a way for you guys to survive this. And you know what I think, but you’ve gotta ask yourself if you’re really ready to end things with her?”

  Gwen threw her hands up in the air and shook her head. “I wasn’t before last weekend, but now…” She sighed as her hands flopped to her lap with a smack. If she had been truly happy with Mallory, she would have never slept with Dana, and she cared about Mallory enough to not let their already dying relationship continue to flounder on life support because it easier than being alone. “Yeah. Probably.”

  Luke blew out a soft breath. “You’re sure?”

  “You’ve been on me about this for months—why do you sound like you don’t think I should do it now?”

  “It’s not that.” He shook his head. “I want to make sure that you’re okay with the whole thing. Because, devil’s advocate here, you don’t have to tell her. You can just deal with the guilt and never let it happen again and move on.”

  Gwen shook her head. She was tired of feeling physically ill because of what she had done, and she couldn’t envision a future where she felt like this every day. She was an asshole, there was no denying that, but she wasn’t a liar. “I can’t do that. I just…” She shook her head again. “If I’d really been happy with her, I wouldn’t have forgotten all about her like that. I wouldn’t have done that. And you might think she’s evil, but she’s not, and she deserves better than what I did to her. She deserves someone better.”

  “Gwen,” Luke sighed.

  “Rumor had it that I’d find you up here,” an achingly familiar Oxford lilt that made Gwen’s stomach clench with self-loathing called out.

  Gwen blew out a soft, shaky breath and looked at Luke, who gave her knee a reassuring squeeze before he let go and pushed himself back to his feet. Her gaze drifted to Mallory, who looked professional as always in her tailored slacks and silk shirt despite the more relaxed rehearsal dress code, and she sighed. Mallory was as beautiful as ever with her straight blond hair tickling the open collar of her blouse, her steel blue eyes as striking as they were cold, though Gwen knew that, given the right incentive, they could sparkle with warmth and mischievousness. Her skin was pale and flawless, and the smirk tugging at the right side of her lips was a beguiling combination of playfulness and smug arrogance.

  “Hey, Mallory. How was Boston?” Luke greeted her, shooting a wary glance at Gwen.

  Mallory shrugged. “It was Boston. They don’t play nearly as fast as they like to believe they do, but we performed well.”

  “Good to hear.” Luke made a show of looking down at his watch before lifting his eyes back to Gwen, silently asking if she was going to be okay. “Rehearsal starts in thirty. See you inside?”

  Gwen nodded. She had been resisting this final step for months, and for as much as the reason for her finally making the decision sucked, she knew that it was the right thing to do. She wasn’t in love with Mallory anymore, but there was a part of her that would always love her, and she owed her the truth. “Yeah.”

  “All right, then.” Luke picked up his clarinet case and tipped his head to Gwen and Mallory in turn. “I shall see you ladies inside, then.”

  “Ah, finally alone,” Mallory drawled as he walked away, her smirk softening into a more genuine smile as she leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Gwen’s lips. Gwen stiffened at the contact, but Mallory showed no sign of noticing as she pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ears. “So, how was your trip?”

  Gwen fidgeted with her hands as she pushed herself to her feet, wanting to be on equal standing with Mallory when she confessed her sins. But before she could say anything, Mallory was already speaking again.

  “I got a call from an old colleague of mine in Chelsea yesterday afternoon. You remember Will, don’t you? Anyway, he told me that Alan Yount has announced his retirement from the London Symphony Orchestra!”

  Gwen arched a brow in surprise, the guilt and unease that she had been
wrestling with momentarily forgotten as she processed what Mallory had said.

  Mallory nodded, her smile blinding as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “The official announcement has yet to be made, but Will said he expects it to come by the end of the week as they were surprised by the news and are trying to get all their ducks in a row. It appears that they are going to be holding auditions for the position toward the end of August so that the new concertmaster can be in place by the beginning of the season.”

  “And you’re going to audition,” Gwen surmised.

  “Of course! You know how long I’ve had my eye on that position. I thought I would have to wait longer for Yount to finally step down, and while I would prefer more than just under two months to prepare, I figure that if I can get a solid eight to ten hours of practice in a day from now until the audition, the position should be mine to lose. You’ll love living in London, darling. We’ll find a flat near the symphony and…”

  Gwen bit her lip as Mallory rambled about their living arrangements and what she thought the audition pieces would be and who else would be most likely to throw their hat into the ring for the position. She was in full-on “Mal mode,” as Luke called it, completely obsessed with her own thoughts and desires and paying little to no attention to Gwen’s reaction to what she was saying, which was a blessing in disguise at the moment because Gwen’s heart was beating too hard in her throat for her to add anything to the conversation.

  The audition process was arduous with ample time to prepare, but on a shortened timetable like the one Mallory seemed to believe this one would be on, it would be absolutely hellish. Gwen had been through her share of auditions over the years, and she knew that the one thing that mattered just as much as practicing the audition pieces was having stability and focus. Music at this level was hard enough without life interfering, and if she went ahead with this, if she told Mallory what she had done and called things off with her, it would affect her preparations and, ultimately, her performance when the big day came. Mallory needed to be one hundred percent focused on her music to win her dream position in London. And after everything that had happened in Maui, after everything that she had done, Gwen knew that she owed her that much, at least.