Nocturne (43 page)

“You mean someone who can be there for me?”

Gregory stared silently for a few moments before shaking his head. “I’ll be there for you, Savannah. I’ll always be there for you.”

“The season at Bolshoi starts when your season does. Long distance is just messy.”

Gregory paled, eyes looking startled. “You’re going back?”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “It’s my job, Gregory.”

He looked to the floor, running a hand through his ragged hair as I panicked, my fingers tingling, and my throat running dry, wondering if he was preparing to ask me to give it up for him. I didn’t have an answer to that unasked question.

“But,” I continued before he had the chance. “
yes
on dinner.” I needed a drink, and a breath.

Gregory pulled me back into the hug, kissing the top of his head. “I don’t want to lose you, Savannah. Not again. It hurt enough for the both of us the first time. There can’t be a second.”

I just nodded against his chest, unsure how else to respond.

Then, someone cleared their throat behind me, and I felt my knees go weak with fear.

Gregory dropped his hands. I studied his face, gauging his expression. It went from surprised to annoyed quickly.

Nathan. Great.

I turned to find Nathan standing cross-armed, nearly seething with tension. I didn’t have time for his shit.

“Hey you,” I said, heading for the door with Gregory slightly behind me.

“What the hell was that?” Nathan asked.

“Gregory and I are heading to grab a quick bite before we practice.”

Nathan stopped short as I wiggled by him, out the door. He turned to Gregory and stood straight. I rolled my eyes at the pre-historic posturing. “What gives, Fitzgerald? I thought you and I talked about this already.” Nathan’s voice was moving on a less than discreet crescendo.

My mouth opened as I turned to face the men. “You
what?
Nathan!”

“What?” Nathan shrugged. “I had a little talk with him on the train from Lincoln.”

“I told you not to say anything!” I screeched.

Gregory stepped in front of Nathan and addressed me in a panic. “You
told
him?”

“Don’t talk to her that way, asshole. She told me about your little romp after the TV performance.” Nathan tried to push past Gregory, but they ended up standing shoulder-to-shoulder facing me. Gregory’s face relaxed just slightly, perhaps recognizing I hadn’t told Nathan about the affair. Just as he asked.

“You should have seen her,” Nathan continued. “She was a mess. Savannah doesn’t cry a lot, Fitzgerald, but she seems to a lot more now that you’re in her life.”

Gregory’s lips parted as his eyes softened, looking at me desperately.

“Both of you shut up.” I put up my hand and took a breath. “Look. Yes, Gregory and I slept together. We’re also performing together in every city so we have to work together. We’re ending this week and are happy that we’ve had such a successful run. That’s what the hug was about, Nathan. And, Gregory, yeah, I cried. But … it’s fine now. So, if you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to the bar.”

“I’ll come with you,” they said nearly in unison.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I shook my head. “Alone, please.
Please.
”

Turning quickly on my heels, I left two of the most important men in my life, and the lies I just told them, behind.

 Gregory

It took a few seconds after Savannah disappeared through the heavy metal doors for me to register that I was still standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Nathan Connors, who also appeared to be watching Savannah’s exit. Rolling my eyes, I turned and made my way back through the door to collect my cello backstage. The hot-headed bastard had the audacity to grab my arm.

“Not so fast, Fitzgerald,” he nearly growled.

I’d had it with him. I spun around and pointed my finger a half-inch from his face. “Listen here, you little
shit
. I allowed your little tantrum on the train from Lincoln, but you’re not about to get away with another one.”

“Excuse me? That girl is my friend and you’re screwing with her emotions, and I don’t fucking appreciate it.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Connors.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Nathan condescendingly tilted his head. “Then tell me this, you spineless fuck. If I don’t know
what the hell
I’m talking about, then why is it she’s had the same lost look in her eyes over the last week as she did when she quit school and showed up at my apartment in Chicago? The day after you tossed her aside like a used toy.”

“She went to Europe,” was the first thing out of my mouth.

“Yeah,” he chuckled moronically, “she went to Europe after she cried on my couch for a few days.” He arched his eyebrow and clenched his jaw in unison. I didn’t care for his implications.

“I don’t need to take this shit from you,” I grumbled, walking away again.

“Yes, you do, Gregory. She deserves better than whatever second rate relationship you’re offering her.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Everyone sees it, man. We all know
something
is going on. Those glances you think you’re each stealing? You’re caught. Every time. How you stare at her when she has a solo? I don’t miss it. And,” he took a long breath, “how she looks at you any time you show up? I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing with her, but I will tell you what I do know. You’re married, she’s in love with you, and the only way this can end is badly. I’ve said it to you before, and I’ll say it again.
Don’t
fucking hurt her.”

I clenched my fist against my side, letting his words swirl through my brain. He knew. If he knew, certainly more people knew. I wouldn’t let her go just based on that, though. I’d done that once and it only made things worse. What I didn’t like was his possessiveness over her. The fuck of it was, he had more of a right to be protective of her. At least openly. He was her friend. What was I?

“I’m not going to waste a punch on you, Connors, but I’ve got some words for you, too.” I leaned in close so he’d get the point. “Don’t you
dare
threaten me. You don’t know the first thing about me, and it would be a huge mistake for you to assume you do. What goes on between me and Savannah is just that. Between
me
and Savannah.”

He snorted. And in that instant I really
did
want to punch him. “Okay, Fitzgerald. Until the end of the tour you can think what you want. Then, that’s it.” He shrugged.

What did he know about the end of the tour? Savannah hadn’t told him about our … agreement. Had she?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Nathan grinned almost menacingly. “You can play your game with her for another week. Then she’ll be in Chicago and far away from your bullshit.” My pulse raced and Nathan must have seen the change on my face. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? There’s a flute opening that Tim and I told her about. Come September you’ll have to find someone else to mindfuck. You and I both know she’ll get in.” With one more mocking grin, the pretentious little shit shook his head and left me alone in the dark.

Where I’d been spending far too much time.

I’d left Savannah alone at the bar that afternoon, as she asked. That didn’t stop me from leaning against the entryway for several minutes, staring at her back. She was drinking a glass of white wine. Sipping slowly for more than a half hour, she randomly ran a finger around the rim of the glass every few minutes. She never checked her cell phone, and she didn’t talk to anyone else around her, save for the passing
hello
when someone tapped her on the shoulder. I couldn’t see her face, but her slumped posture told me enough.

I didn’t want to make her sad.

I kicked myself for even suggesting that she continue the affair with me. There was nothing I could do to take it back now that I’d spoken the words. Nothing except hope that maybe she would actually wait for me while I got my life sorted out. Still,
Chicago.
She was slipping away and I’d started to panic. Panic makes people do desperate things, so I slipped away to my hotel room before I did something that would make things worse for both of us.

She deserved so much damn better than this.
Shit.
I asked her to
wait
for me. For an undetermined amount of time, I asked her to sit back and wait for things that I could only promise her. Nothing I could show her.

As we stepped on stage that night, though, she exuded professionalism. I waited for a tell, for a moment within the notes that she’d look at me like I was hers, and she was mine. That she was considering it. She stuck to the script, though, and maintained our secrecy. Even on stage.

Just as I’d asked of her.

As we took our seats after our duet, I searched for her eyes. Finally, at the last second before we started our final piece of the night with the orchestra, she looked back. A smile flickered across her lips but never made it all the way to her eyes. Nathan was watching me, too, and I could only wonder what conversations they’d had in my absence. Conversations that might lead her to discuss everything. That might lead her to say
no.

I was uncharacteristically slow at getting everything put away after the show that night. Thankfully, she was, too. In hushed, but harsh tones I heard her tell Nathan to leave her alone. That she was fine and could
handle it.
Shortly after he sulked away, shaking his head in apparent disappointment, she mouthed
nine thirteen
. Her room number.

I waited for her to get on the elevator, then for another carload of people to go, before I got on. There were moments over the past few weeks that we could sneak an elevator ride together, alone. Moments when the door closed that I could take her hand and press into her for a kiss before the
ding
separated us. That wasn’t often enough, though. Too many eyes. Too many mouths.

“Hey,” she smiled and backed up so I could enter her room. “You never use your key. Why?” She always gave me a copy of her room key when she had a room to herself. I always knocked, though.

I shrugged. “Just being polite, I guess.” I grinned and pulled her into a deep kiss. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed off since this afternoon.”

“Oh, you mean since you and my only friend on this tour almost got into a fistfight? Yeah, I’m fine. I just … needed a minute.” She walked over to the bed and sat up by the headboard, patting the space next to her.

“So, tomorrow night is it, huh?” I decided against asking her about Chicago, unsure if she was considering that over Moscow. I couldn’t be sure Nathan was ever telling the truth when it came to Savannah, and I wasn’t in a place where I was prepared to lose her to either city.

“Yep. That’s it,” she whispered.

I was aching with the need to ask her if she’d thought more about waiting for me. Or if she’d thought of it at all.

“Savannah,” I started.

But, she stopped me. Wordlessly. Extending her hand palm up and resting her head on my shoulder, she said all she needed to. Swallowing back tears I didn’t know I had, I wove my fingers between hers and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the headboard.

She was saying goodbye.

Savannah

N
o matter how many times I’d either played it
or heard it performed, Brahms’
Symphony No. 3 in F
gave me chills. The melancholy crescendos and diminuendos were punctuated with an airy dance that left a smile on my face and a longing in my heart.

Irony is one of music’s cruelest weapons.

I couldn’t look at him. Not knowing if we were about to play on stage together for the last time. I had to keep it together because I knew my mother was in the audience. Despite how I felt about her or her personal life at the moment, I still wanted to make her proud. To make myself proud.

As the nearly fourteen-minute piece came to an end, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reaching for my sheet music. Tonight we were playing
Clair De Lune
. No one knew. We’d spent a couple of weeks with the pianist to work on turning the piano accompaniment into a flute harmony to compliment the cello. By the time we were through, we no longer needed the piano.