Plan Overboard (Toronto Series #14)

by Wardell, Heather

  "Me what?" The blush is invading his ears now but he's putting up a good front.

  "You," I say, knowing I know the answer, "wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  "Sure I would."

  I blink. "Really?" I thought he'd keep saying he didn't know.

  "Yup. I would know that 'anonymous' means you weren't supposed to know who bought it. And that means there's no point in going on about it. Since I bet the person will never admit to buying it for you."

  I look at him, my heart filling with so much love I can barely breathe, then throw my arms around him and Jenna. Into his ear I say, "Even back then you were taking care of me. Back when we weren't even talking. And you were afraid you're not relationship material. Smarten up, boy."

  He chuckles and hugs me tight without crushing Jenna. "Okay, girl."

  As he releases me, he says, "Laura, did you find the right one?"

  She holds it up and he plucks it from her hand. "Might as well buy this for you," he says to me. "Since some anonymous person bought you the AC itself."

  "Some wonderful anonymous person," I say, linking my arm with his.

  "Well, yeah," he says, grinning at me. "Thought that went without saying."

  "I guess it does."

  The men line up to pay, Austin still wearing the now-peaceful Jenna in the sling, and Laura grabs my arm. "It was him! I never even thought of that."

  "I did," I admit, "back then, but I never thought it really could be him."

  She sighs. "He's a sweetheart. And I love how flexible you guys are with each other and Jenna."

  I blink, since 'flexible' has never described me. "What do you mean?"

  She tips her head to one side. "You serious? You guys and those baby outfits? I remember you saying before you were glad it was just you because you could do whatever you want but you're doing what both of you want now and it's cool. Flexible," she says again, nodding. "Wish we were. I had everything arranged and now he's disrupting all my plans."

  Austin disrupted mine, too, when he returned, I realize. And I don't mind a bit any more. "You guys will work it out," I say. "Trust me, if we can, you will."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  On the way home my happiness at Austin's kindness and how well we're working out keeps me relaxed, but as we take the elevator up to the apartment I begin to feel stressed again. Before dinner Austin had suggested we spend the evening watching a movie, and at the time I thought it was a good idea, but now I feel like I should practice more instead. I have to memorize my pieces and be ready. I can't fail again.

  Austin looks disappointed when I tell him I need to change our plans, but says only, "Not a problem. I'll hang out with the peach until you're ready for us."

  "It'll be a while," I warn. "I need to run the whole Mozart a few times and also work on my memorization, assuming I can get the rest of it in shape first."

  "Didn't Marty say it was coming along well?"

  "Coming along." I shake my head. "Yeah, but that's not good enough. I need to be perfect. I guess I wasn't last time and... well, we all know what happened."

  He looks at me, his eyes soft and sad, but doesn't speak.

  "Anyhow," I say, feeling uncomfortable at his expression, "I'll just give Jenna her bath and then are you okay to watch her?"

  "Of course, and I can do the bath too if you want."

  "On your own?"

  "I've watched you enough times, I should be able to handle it."

  I know he can, but leaving him to take care of Jenna while I go off to play clarinet feels wrong. But so does how late I'll have to stay up tonight if I don't start practicing now, so I say, "If you need help, shout for me and I'll come right in."

  He smiles. "Will do. Thanks for trusting me."

  I shake my head. "Thank you for being so awesome."

  He leans in and kisses me, his mouth lingering on mine. When he pulls back and says, "Have fun," I've almost forgotten what it is I'm supposed to have fun doing.

  I reach for the clarinet, then start to change direction and reach for Austin, then go back to the clarinet. "Okay. See you in a few hours."

  "Deal." He scoops Jenna out of her carrier and waves her tiny hand at me. "Have fun, mommy," he says in the squeaky voice he uses when he pretends to be her. "Have lots of fun."

  I kiss her on the forehead. "You're in charge, Jenna."

  Austin laughs. "Outranked by a ten-week-old. Sounds about right."

  I grin at him, and he waves Jenna's hand at me again. "Go practice," he says in her voice, "or else what's the point?"

  I smile and make myself pick up the clarinet and go into the bedroom so he can have the rest of the place for himself and Jenna, but once I get there the smile fades and I sit on the bed with the unopened clarinet case and wonder: what is the point? The orchestra has four weekly practices, plus regular concerts. Even if I get in, can I really handle that schedule?

  I planned it all out, and Austin says that we can handle it, but what if one day there isn't a 'we' any more? What if I get in and then have to drop out?

  What if I don't get in and everything goes awful and black inside me again like it did before?

  I lie back on the bed for a moment, struggling with all the questions, then force myself to sit up and get to work so I don't waste the time Austin's giving me.

  Years ago Marty taught me the value of listening to myself playing, and so I play bits of several of my past recordings of the second movement of the concerto, which is the part giving me the most grief, to see where I'm likely to mess up. After that, I listen to a bunch of professional recordings, practicing the fingerings as the music goes along to make sure my hands are ready to handle the complicated runs of notes, and then I work the toughest sections over and over on my own until I'm sick of them.

  Once all that is done, I set my phone to record and try to get through the second movement without a single mistake from memory. No luck. I delete and restart the recording every time I mess up, but finally I have to admit defeat. I do not have this thing memorized.

  The urge to put the clarinet away, put it back in the closet and never speak of it again, hits me, but I try to force that away as I pull out the sheet music. I can't give up.

  Once the recording is set to go again, I realize I still don't want to play. I want to be with my daughter and Austin. I love them both, and I'm missing their first bath time. But I can't lose this chance either. I can't fail again. Nothing feels right.

  I hit the record button, a little harder than necessary, and begin playing the slow sad notes of the second movement. Immediately it feels different. I feel sad myself, and with every note I find myself connecting more and more with the spirit of the thing.

  Since I've got the music in front of me I don't make a single mistake, and since I don't have to worry about remembering the notes I can relax and let them come out exactly as they want to. It's such a gorgeous piece, and somehow I've never noticed that before. It's been a puzzle to be solved instead of an art work to be presented.

  When I finish and the last note dies away, I sit for a second feeling strangely open and... different somehow. I've played this piece so many times but it feels like it's new.

  I listen to my recording, and there is something new. It doesn't sound like any of my other ones. It sounds alive, passionate and sad and alive.

  It sounds beautiful. Real. Meaningful.

  I search for the file of my last rehearsal before the last audition, and when I listen to that I can hear the difference. Last time I was desperately focused on getting all the notes, on trying to sound 'right'. This time I was trying to get into the piece itself, and I can hear myself and how I feel. Some of the notes I held a little longer, some are a slightly different volume... I did it as it felt right.

  I've never really done that before. I've tried to figure out how to combine what all the pros do into one thing that works, one perfect rendition. Music by committee. It did work pretty well, but it wasn't me. This time it's me. And
I think I like it.

  I play it several more times, trying to open myself up to doing it from how I feel instead of from what I decided to do, and it feels better every time.

  After I run the entire concerto in the same way, I decide to take a quick break before playing it again to record it. A glance at my phone, though, makes me pack up the clarinet immediately. Three hours? I've been working that long? I had no idea. And poor Austin's been alone with Jenna the whole time.

  When I reach the living room doorway, I take a breath to apologize, in a whisper if Jenna's asleep, but it freezes in my chest as emotion floods me.

  Austin is lying, eyes closed, on his back on the living room rug with the sleeping Jenna in the sling on his chest. He's got each arm tucked through the bottom posts of a dining room chair and his hands rest on Jenna's back.

  It's a ridiculous pose, but I understand it immediately. He's always envied my letting her sleep on my chest but he's also been terrified of crushing her. He's figured out a way to make everything work, to make sure he couldn't roll over on her. He can't be comfortable right now, but he's made sure Jenna is.

  As I look at them, my heart splits in two: one half filled with love for my daughter and the other half... I love Austin so much, more than I thought, more than I ever imagined I could love a man.

  I should have been with them all night. Three hours I spent practicing, hours I wanted to spend with them. But I didn't. I stuck to my plan and denied how I truly felt inside. Well, I'm not doing that again tonight. Or ever.

  I watch for a few more seconds, trying to keep their image forever in my mind, then take a step forward to tell Austin how I feel. I'm still scared to do it, scared I'll lose him, but I have to.

  The floor creaks as I move and Austin's eyes open. "Hey," he says softly. "How'd the practicing go?"

  At this precise moment I could not possibly care less about the clarinet. I cross to him, kneel down beside him, and say what I've been terrified to say but don't want to deny any more. "Austin, I love you."

  His mouth pulls into the sweetest smile I've ever seen. "I love you too. I've been scared to tell you, but I do."

  I can't hold back a grin as delight floods me, but I say, "Why are you scared?"

  "With my track record? I thought you'd laugh at me."

  I take a breath to protest this and he shakes his head and says, "No, that's not it. I knew you wouldn't. But everyone else would. Mom, Art..."

  "So let them." I lean closer. "I don't care about your history. That's in the past."

  "Usually where history is," he agrees.

  "Shut up," I say, leaning even closer, "and kiss me already."

  I'm not actually sure whether he kisses me or I kiss him, but in a moment it doesn't matter at all. Our kisses have all been great, right from the very first one, but this one is full of love and that makes all the difference. It's like with music, I realize, as he unwinds one arm from the chair post and slides his hand gently into my hair. Without true passion, what's the point?

  We've got passion, no question, and love, but after a few minutes I begin to feel awkward that we've also literally got Jenna between us. I pull back and say, trying to catch my breath, "I feel like I'd rather be alone with you for some reason."

  Austin chuckles, and the hunger in his eyes sends fire shooting down my spine. "Works for me. What about the peach?"

  "Bassinet out here. I want the bedroom just for us."

  Austin looks surprised. "You want to..."

  I blink. "Yeah, big time. Unless you don't?"

  He stretches up and kisses me again, hard and deep. "I do. Trust me. But I wasn't sure you were... I don't want to rush you."

  "Doctor says I'm fine. And I definitely feel ready at the moment."

  I've never been this direct with a man before, but I don't feel uncomfortable about it at all. I know Austin doesn't mind.

  This is proven to me, if I needed any extra proof, by how quickly he untangles his other arm from the chair and sits up. Once he's on his feet and Jenna has been transferred to her bassinet and has settled back into sleep, he takes my hand and says, "Lead on, my love."

  I smile at him. "'My love.' I like the sound of that."

  "Me too." He kisses me, briefly but sweetly. "Me too."

  I do lead on, to the bedroom, and we are soon lying in each other's arms kissing deeper and hungrier than ever before.

  "I love you," he says over and over against my mouth, amazement and happiness in his voice, his hands everywhere. I might have thought I'd feel uncomfortable letting him touch my post-baby shape, but his every caress is so full of love that I feel nothing but delight. Delight and pure sensation.

  I tell him I love him every time he says it, and I touch him everywhere I can, and I'm not even close to being tired of hearing those words or saying them or touching him by the time we're both naked. I'll never be tired of any of it.

  "I love you oh shit."

  I grin at him. "I don't want that as my nickname."

  He laughs. "No way. But I just realized... there's no chance you have condoms here, is there?"

  My grin widens. "There's every chance. I bought some the day the doctor said I was good to go."

  "See, and there's yet another reason why I love you, your planning skills," he says, and though he's joking around I see his love in his eyes and I want to make love with him. Now.

  I grab the cardboard box from the bedside table drawer and rip it open. He plucks a packet from it and in moments his gorgeous body is again pressed to mine.

  He doesn't immediately take me, though. Instead he lays his hand gently against my cheek and kisses me, and I feel yet again that nearly unbearable swell of love for him as his love for me is so beautifully clear in his kiss.

  Then he slides into me, and the love I feel for him and from him mixes with the strongest pleasure I've ever known. There's some pain too, but the feeling of being with him, the man I love, overshadows it so much I hardly notice.

  When he's filled me completely, he murmurs, "You okay? I'm not hurting you?"

  I look into his eyes, filled with desire and love, and tell him the truth. "A bit at first, but it's getting better all the time. And I love it. I love you."

  He smiles, and I kiss him as he begins to move.

  At first we make love the same way we kissed on that boat on the cruise: slow and sweet and delicate and like we've got all the time in the world. Soon, though, our passion takes us over and I'm feeling nothing even close to pain and we move faster and faster and I lock my mouth to his so I won't cry out and when he buries himself deep inside me with a groan of pure pleasure he pulls me over the edge with him and I dissolve into ecstasy in his arms.

  We hold each other tight for a long time, our breathing settling down, and then he murmurs, "Do you know who I love even more than I love you?"

  His tone tells me I'm not about to be upset by his answer, so I say, "Nobody?"

  He chuckles lazily. "The peach, for not waking up and interrupting us."

  I giggle. "I'll agree with that."

  He kisses me, and I kiss him back as my hunger rises again, and Jenna is thoughtful enough to stay quiet until well after her mommy and daddy are again finished and lying breathless in each other's arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I wake up the next morning, feeling loose and relaxed and so blissfully happy, and turn my head to look at my boyfriend. My love.

  He's lying on his side facing me, but his serious eyes are studying my face and his intense expression doesn't change even when I smile at him.

  Confused, I say, softly so I won't disturb Jenna, "Are you okay?"

  He stretches out his hand and gently touches my cheek. "I don't know. Corinne, I'm... not sure I can do this."

  My heart skips a beat. "What? Us?"

  He doesn't answer, but the sadness and confusion that fill his eyes are answer enough.

  I sit up, clutching the comforter to my chest. I need comfort. "But... you said you love me."
<
br />   He sits up too. "I do love you. I definitely do." He looks past me, at Jenna. "Can we maybe talk in the living room? It'd be easier if she didn't wake up."

  Hearing that he loves me should reassure me but his obvious unhappiness means it doesn't. I nod, and we both get out of bed and get dressed without looking at each other. Then he goes off to make coffee and I use the bathroom then stand staring at my sleeping daughter wondering if we're about to lose Austin until the smell of the finished coffee makes me force myself out into the living room.

  Austin's sitting on the couch, two mugs on the coffee table before him. When he sees me, he starts talking even before I reach the couch. "I do love you, Corinne. It's not that at all. That's the one thing I do know. I love you, and I promise you I don't want to go anywhere."

  I pick up the tea he made me and sit next to him. With my first sip, I know he's finally made it exactly as I like it. I want to tell him but we have more important things to discuss. "Okay. I'm glad. Then what's wrong?"

  He rubs his hand over his forehead. "I have never, never, been able to keep a relationship going. Hell, I don't think anything I've had before could even be considered a relationship. I've never really cared about someone before, let alone loved her."

  I do love hearing this, but I have to ask, "Not even Melissa?"

  He grimaces. "I was flirting and fooling around with a bunch of girls at a party right in front of her, and she kissed one of my friends to make me jealous. Do you know what I thought of that?" Before I could answer, although I had no idea what to say, he said, "I liked it," with disgust in his voice. "I thought it was hilarious. And kind of sexy, actually, but we don't need to talk about that. But the idea of you kissing someone else tears me up. I don't know what to do with it."

  I put down my tea, not wanting the distraction. "I won't kiss anyone else. What makes you think I will?"

  He shakes his head. "I don't think that. I know you wouldn't cheat on me."

  We sit in silence for a moment, then I say, "I really don't understand. You say you don't want me to kiss anyone else but you know I won't, so there's no problem there. And you don't want to leave me and I don't want you to leave, so that's fine too. Right?"