Broken Chords (Songs and Sonatas Book 4)

by Jerica MacMillan

  I don’t think I’ve had as much fun in college as I have since I started dating Charlie. Since finding her in the recital hall and taking her out for pancakes, we’ve spent time together every evening. Dinner, even if it’s just something on campus. There’s a piano player in the cafeteria who plays popular songs from the radio and old standards that she likes to listen to, but on certain songs she gets really quiet. We still play together in the practice rooms for a while before or after we do our own practice sessions. Homework together at my house or hers. We talk, we laugh, we kiss. Man, do we ever kiss.

  There have been a few times where I considered taking it beyond kissing. When Charlie’s hands slipped under my shirt, encouraging me to take it off, when she climbed in my lap and started grinding on me. When she stripped off her own shirt, her nipples hardening into points beneath the lace of her bra when she pushed her chest against mine. When I tugged the lace aside and sucked her nipple into my mouth, leaving her writhing and panting.

  I was so close. So close to shoving my hand down her pants and making her come. Then stripping her bare and sinking inside her.

  But I haven’t. Not yet.

  God, I want to.

  But we’re not there. No one’s said the L word. Or even alluded to it. It’s too soon. Only a few weeks have gone by.

  And now we’re going to my mom’s birthday party. My little sister Carla called me last week to badger me about the fact that I haven’t been at Sunday dinners in over a month and to make sure that I was coming to Mom’s party. They’re all dying to meet Charlie, and I knew if I’d gone to Sunday dinner without her, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. “I can’t believe you introduced her to Tío Marco and Martina, but you haven’t brought her by to meet your sister and parents,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes at that. “I’m sorry, Carlita. I’ll bring her to Mom’s birthday, and you’ll meet her then.”

  She sniffed, just like Mom does. “Fine. I guess that’ll have to do.” Acting like she was my disapproving grandmother and not my seventeen-year-old little sister.

  Maybe a birthday party is more of a high pressure meet-the-family situation than I thought, though. Because Charlie’s huddled against the side of my car, staring out her window the whole way, and she keeps fiddling with the zipper on her purse. I’m a little worried, because her behavior is completely unlike her. Normally she’s all smile and sparkle, dazzling me and making me laugh.

  I reach over and run the back of my hand down her arm at a stoplight, hoping she’ll let me hold her hand. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  She looks at me and gives me a pained smile. “I’m fine. I’m just … I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  She finally uncrosses her arms and lets me thread my fingers through hers. I bring her hand to my lips and brush a kiss across her knuckles before the light turns green. “You’ll be fine. My family’s curious about you, but since I like you, they’re excited. Not waiting to judge you and decide you’re not good enough for me or something.”

  “Great.” She gives a weak laugh. “Now I’m even more worried they’ll hate me.”

  I give her a smile. “Just be yourself. You’ll charm them just like you did me.”

  She sucks in a breath and opens her mouth, but closes it again, and swallows hard. “Okay. Sure. I can do that.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Of course you can. I promise, everything will be fine. They’ll love you as much as …” I trail off and clear my throat, realizing what I was about to say without even thinking. They’ll love you as much as I do. “They’ll love you,” I finally say.

  Charlie’s gaze is a palpable thing, even as I deliberately keep my eyes facing out the windshield, not daring to look at her.

  After several minutes where I almost pass out from holding my breath, she says, “Thanks.”

  At that I glance at her with another smile. “Sure.” I swallow convulsively as I park in front of my parents’ house, then quietly say the words that come into my head. “You’re easy to fall for.”

  She holds my eyes for a beat. “So are you,” she whispers back.

  My breath catches, and time freezes for a second as we stare at each other. It’s not a full confession. But it’s close.

  She smiles and looks away, taking in the house and the other cars parked outside. “Are your siblings all going to be here too?”

  “Yeah. My older sister and her new husband. I think my brother might be bringing someone. Plus my parents and my little sister. It’s the whole crew.”

  “Well, at least I’ll get it over with all at once.”

  I reach for her hand again, drawing her attention to me once more. “It’s the last hurdle. At least on your side. You’ve met my roommates. Now my family. I already knew your roommate, so I started one step ahead. You’ll have to introduce me to your family when we have the chance.”

  I regret that flippant statement as soon as it’s out of my mouth. Her face closes down, and that brittle smile I’ve grown to hate comes out. “If we ever get the chance, I mean. I know you aren’t on the best terms with your parents, but if we’re ever in the same city, I’d go with you to see them. For moral support, if no other reason.”

  The brittle smile melts, and her face softens, her eyes warming and losing the flinty quality they get when something triggers her shield. “I know. Thank you. And if we are ever in the same city, I’d definitely take you to meet them.” She gives me a bright smile. It’s not the same as the brittle one she wore a second ago, but it still looks less than genuine. “Let’s go meet your family. They know we’re here anyway. Someone’s peeking through the front window.”

  I look at the house, and sure enough, Carla’s face is poking up from the couch that sits in front of the window. “That’s my little sister. You’ll like her. Come on.”

  Charlie climbs out her door and waits for me to come around to her side, taking her hand and leading the way up the walkway. Before we even get to the door, it opens for us, a ring of curious faces waiting inside.

  “Damián!” my mom says, throwing her arms around me and pulling me down so she can kiss my cheek. “I’m glad you could finally make it.” When she releases me, she looks Charlie up and down. “Now introduce us to your friend.”

  Chapter Ten

  Grace note: an extra note added as an embellishment and not essential to the harmony or melody

  Charlie

  Damian slips his arm around my waist in an undeniable display of our relationship status and tugs me against his side, a wide smile on his face. “Mom, Dad, this is Charlie. Charlie, these are my parents, Hector and Elisa.”

  Damian’s mom smiles at me and reaches for my hands. “We’re so glad you could join us today. Damian’s told us about you. We’ve told him to bring you by for Sunday dinner, but he keeps claiming you’re both too busy.”

  I glance at Damian out of the corner of my eyes, but he’s not looking at me. “Mamá,” he says, his tone full of warning.

  But she just rolls her eyes at him and gives me a smile. “But you’re here now. Welcome. Come in, come in, let’s introduce you to everyone and get you something to drink.”

  The next few minutes pass in a whirlwind of introductions and greetings, questions about my name—“It’s short for Charlotte,” I tell them, which makes them all nod in understanding—and settling in the living room. It’s clean and comfortable, if a little dated with its floral print upholstery on the sofa and loveseat and the coffee table with the three inset panes of glass. One wall is taken up by a large entertainment center boasting books, family pictures, and a flatscreen TV. More pictures of the kids through the years dot the walls alongside older family photos and groups of people who I assume are extended family. I recognize what looks like a younger Marco and a little girl with a missing front tooth who can only be Martina.

  A glass of ice water is placed in my hand by a smiling Sara, who sits on the loveseat adjacent to my end of the sofa. “So tell us more about yourself. You’re a music stu
dent too?”

  Swallowing a sip of water, I nod. “Yes. I’m a freshman this year. I play piano.”

  Sara, Benjamin, and Sara’s husband Josh, a tall man with sandy hair and hazel eyes, all exchange looks. “Um, you’re only eighteen?”

  “Oh, no.” I laugh. “I’m twenty-one. I took some time off to decide what I wanted to do before going to college.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sara looks almost relieved, like I’ve cleared up something that didn’t sit quite right. “What were you doing before?”

  “Um …” I glance at Damian, trying to remember what I’ve told him. “Traveling with my family. Helping out with the, uh, family business.”

  “What kind of business?” This question is from Ben, Damian’s older brother.

  I take another drink of water to buy some time without seeming like a weirdo. I finally decide on the closest thing to the truth. “Music tours.”

  Damian’s fingers brush my thigh, and his brows are knitted together when I turn to look at him. “I thought your parents didn’t want you to study music.”

  “Oh, well, no. They aren’t upset I’m studying music. Just that I’m going to college at all. They—well, my mom really—wanted me to stay and continue helping with their business.” The lie flows easily now, since it’s mostly rooted in truth. It’s just that the business in question is really mine. Even though from the way things have been run, you wouldn’t know that once I reached twenty-one I had full access to all my accounts. But they still make a percentage as part of my management team. Even though my manager is officially someone else.

  Sara’s eyes widen. “Wow. That must’ve been something, traveling on tour like that. Did you tour with anyone famous?”

  “Yeah.” That’s an easy one, and it’d be funny if I could tell them all the truth. But before I can offer any names, Carla scoots forward, looking past Damian so she can see me.

  “Have you toured with Jonny B?”

  I grin at her question, asked with all the excitement of a true fan. “We were at some of the same festival stops over the summer.”

  Her eyes get huge. “Did you actually get to meet him?”

  I nod, still smiling. “A few times.” Ha. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “What about his fiancé? Have you met her? Damian knew her, but he says he doesn’t know Jonny B.”

  Damian rolls his eyes when I glance at him, giving a tiny shake of his head to express his exasperation with his sister. I’m guessing this is a subject that’s come up a lot. “Yeah. She was on the tour with him, so we’ve met. I’m actually living with her former roommate.” We’ll just gloss over the part where she’s the one who introduced me to Lauren and helped me through the whole admissions process.

  I’m saved from answering more questions by Damian’s dad poking his head into the living room to announce that dinner is ready.

  Everyone stands and files into the dining room, Damian guiding me with his hand around my waist. He leans his head in close. “See. I told you they’d love you.”

  It seems too early to make that kind of declaration, both with regard to his family, as well as each other. Even though we came close in the car. When I turn to respond, all thoughts flit away as I catch and hold his eyes, so full of tenderness and emotion that I feel the need to rethink my assessment of the situation. Is it too soon after all?

  He gives me a smile, and I smile back out of reaction more than intention and stumble along next to him, bringing up the rear as we make it to the table.

  It’s a tight fit with eight of us around the farm-style table. Ben, Sara, and Josh take up one side, while Carla, Damian, and I are on the other. The ends appear to be reserved for Hector and Elisa, who are busy setting out the food.

  “Mamá, let me help. It’s your birthday. You should be sitting,” says Carla from Damian’s other side.

  Elisa waves a hand. “Sit, sit. You’ll just be in the way. We have it covered.”

  Carla settles back in her chair, and Sara gives her a knowing look, as if to say, You know how Mom is.

  Bowls of rice and beans appear on the table along with a heaping bowl of shredded lettuce, smaller bowls containing shredded cheese, diced tomatoes, diced onions, and salsa. Another wrapped dish appears at my elbow. Hector holds a shallow dish in front of him and places it in the center of the table with a flourish.

  Damian smiles and rubs his hands together in anticipation. “Dad’s famous carne asada. We have this every year for Mom’s birthday.”

  “And yours. And Carla’s,” interjects Sara.

  “Hush now,” says their mom. “It’s my birthday, and I don’t want to listen to you bickering while we eat. Save it for later.”

  “But if we don’t do it now, we won’t get to,” Sara says in mock protest.

  “Exactly,” adds Hector. “Charlie, will you pass the tortillas please?”

  Damian gestures to the wrapped dish next to me.

  “Oh! Of course.” I pick it up and hand it to Damian, who opens it and places a tortilla on my plate before taking one for himself and handing the dish to Carla.

  “Mom’s homemade tortillas are the best,” Damian says to me.

  “Don’t let your Tío Marco hear you say that,” Elisa quips. “He’ll act like you’ve knifed him in the heart.”

  Everyone laughs, and I smile, enjoying getting to witness their family interactions. I sit quietly, taking it all in as we eat our dinner, answering the handful of questions that I get asked. From the fact that I don’t have to rehash anything discussed before we sat down at the table, I assume that Hector and Elisa overheard our conversation as they finished the meal prep.

  Seconds are pressed on everyone, with exhortations to eat since we’re all nothing but skin and bones. I laugh, but can’t say no. I’ve gained seven pounds since arriving in Spokane. My mother would be horrified. But I’m enjoying the unfettered freedom of eating whatever I want whenever I want. There’ll be cake later, and I’ll have as big of a piece as they decide to give me.

  The affection and love between the siblings and their parents is evident, even under the veneer of bickering and teasing, despite Elisa’s injunction to save the bickering for another time. It’s clear that this is all part of their dynamic—the teasing, the prodding, the arguing among siblings, who all take turns telling me stories about Damian, filling in my picture of him even more. Not just because of their stories, but because this is the family that produced him. I can see why he’s so kind and considerate, but also why he’s more on the quiet side. His older sister is outgoing, dominating the conversation more than the others. But Ben and Carla give her competition on that front. Damian, on the other hand, hangs back, only throwing out the occasional quip or comment. But when he does, they all listen. His voice matters to his family, even if he doesn’t push his way to the forefront as often as the others.

  Watching Elisa and Hector interact is also fascinating. With my parents, my mom is the one who’s clearly in charge. My dad goes along with whatever Mom says and always agrees with her. The few times I’ve witnessed him push back, she always talks over him until he gives in to whatever she thinks is best.

  Hector and Elisa talk to each other, bantering and teasing like their children, but giving each other smiles as they do it, making it clear to everyone that they love each other. And when Elisa needs a refill of her drink, Hector stands to get it, giving her a kiss after he fills her glass.

  After dinner, we move to the living room again where Elisa gets to open her presents. At least the ones from her children.

  “What did Dad get you?” Sara asks as she hands over a bright pink envelope.

  Elisa tucks her chin-length dark hair behind one ear, revealing a set of sparkly teardrops. “Earrings.”

  “So pretty!” Sara leans over to examine them. “Good job, Dad.”

  As she resumes her seat next to her husband she pats him on the chest. “Take notes.”

  Josh chuckles, but looks toward Hector who says, “I’ll email you my ti
ps.”

  Damian hands over his card, and I retrieve a slim cream envelope from my bag, standing to hand it to Elisa. She looks at me with surprise, and a quick glance around shows it’s mirrored on everyone else’s faces. “That’s so sweet of you, Charlie. Thank you.”

  “Oh, it’s just a little something. Damian told me ahead of time we were coming for your birthday. I was always taught that you don’t show up empty handed to a birthday party.”

  Elisa smiles, her fingers going to the seal on the flap. “Well, now I’m curious to know what this could be. My children aren’t very original, so I have a feeling I know what I’m getting from them already. You’re the unknown quantity here.”

  She gasps when she pulls out the simple cream cardstock with elegant script illustrating a gift certificate to a fancy local spa.

  “I included one of their treatment menus. The certificate should cover pretty much anything you’d want.”

  “Charlie, this is so extravagant. You didn’t have to do this.”

  I shrug, trying to play it off. “I wanted to.” I glance at Damian out of the corner of my eye. “Damian’s told me about what you’ve gone through the last few years, and I didn’t know how much pampering you’d have had time for in the midst of all that. It’s good to be pampered every now and then.” My voice gets smaller the longer everyone stares at me.

  Is this really an inappropriate gift? I talked to Lauren about it, and she seemed to think it was okay. Well, she actually said, “Girl, you can get me that kind of a gift certificate any time.”

  “If it’s too much …” I make a sort of helpless gesture toward Elisa, which seems to bring everyone out of their daze.

  Sara leans over so she can see it and lets out a low whistle. “If you don’t want it, Mamá, I’ll happily take it off your hands.”

  Elisa jerks it closer to her chest, her face morphing into a scowl. “No! This is my birthday present. Butter her up and tell her when your birthday is, and maybe you’ll get lucky enough to get one too.”