Michael
Istand in the doorway of the bathroom while Katie finishes fastening the clasp on one of her earrings. She catches my reflection in the mirror and smiles before looking back at herself, smoothing one hand over the dark green dress she chose for tonight.
“You’re being a creep right now,” she says, reaching for the other earring on the counter.
“No. I’m watching my incredibly gorgeous girlfriend.”
She narrows her eyes at me in the mirror.
I step farther into the room and stop behind her, looping my hand around her waist while she puts the second earring in.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Almost.” She tilts her head, studying herself in the mirror. “Do you think this dress works?”
“I think you know exactly what I think about that dress.”
Her mouth curves slightly. “I mean for the symphony, Michael.”
“It works for the symphony.” I let my hands move once along her waist before forcing myself to release her. “It also works for me taking it off later, but I’m trying to behave until at least intermission.”
She laughs under her breath and turns around to face me pressing her hands into my chest. “That was almost sweet until you ruined it.”
“I didn’t ruin anything.”
“You brought up taking my dress off before we even left the house.”
“I said I was trying to behave.”
“Fine. That’s probably the closest I’m getting to restraint from you tonight, so I’ll take it.”
I smile and reach past her for the small black clutch sitting on the dresser. She takes it from me, then glances at the mirror one more time before stepping toward the door. I follow her out, and she loops her arm through mine.
Enzo is waiting downstairs when we reach the foyer. He opens the front door for us, and Katie thanks him as she passes.
“You’re welcome, Miss Katie.”
The drive downtown is quiet at first. Katie sits beside me in the back of the SUV with the program resting in her lap, reading through the names of the pieces while the city moves past the window. I keep one hand on her knee, my thumb moving over the fabric of her dress.
“So your mother took you to these?” she asks after a few minutes.
I glance over at her. “Sometimes. Every few months, when she was home long enough and remembered she had a son who would say yes.”
I don’t mean for it to come out bitter, but I hear the edge in my own voice. Katie hears it too, because her hand tightens over mine.
“Did you enjoy it then?” she asks.
“I did.” I look out the window for a moment while Enzo turns onto Grand Avenue. “I think that’s why I kept coming back after I got older. It was one of the few things from her that didn’t feel complicated every time I touched it.”
She lets go of my hand and threads it into the hair at the base of my neck.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Doll.”
She gives me a small smile and continues running her hand through my hair. I lean into her touch.
When we arrive, the hall is already lit against the downtown skyline. Enzo pulls to the curb, and I get out first before turning back for Katie. She takes my hand, stepping carefully from the SUV.
The lobby is crowded, but not in the same way a gala is crowded. The noise is lower here, less aggressive. Conversations rise and fall beneath the chandeliers. People still notice when I walk in, but I’ve learned to let that move around me without giving it much attention.
Katie notices too, though she doesn’t tense beside me.
She glances around the lobby, taking in the marble floors, the champagne trays, the people in evening clothes, and the long staircase curving toward the upper levels.
She’s getting more comfortable in this life every time I bring her out with me.
“This building is gorgeous,” she says.
“It is.”
I guide her toward the theater doors with my hand at her back.
Inside, musicians are already seated, adjusting music stands and warming their instruments, the separate sounds blending together before the performance begins.
Katie slows a little when we step into the aisle, her attention moving over the space.
“This is beautiful,” she says.
I watch her face instead of the room. “I thought you’d think so.”
She gives me a small smile and lets me lead her to our seats. Once we sit, she looks through the program again, then folds it neatly in her lap.
The lights dim a few minutes later, and the room quiets almost all at once.
That part has always been one of my favorites, the way an entire crowd can settle because something is about to begin.
Nobody asks anything from me in that silence.
Nobody needs a decision, a signature, a threat, an answer, or a solution.
Then the first notes rise from the strings. I don’t look at Katie at first. I know if I do, I’ll miss the opening, and I brought her here because I wanted to share this with her. I make it maybe thirty seconds before I glance over anyway.
She’s watching the stage closely. Her attention moves from the violins to the cellos, then toward the conductor. She looks fascinated.
The music builds slowly through the first movement. It starts clean and restrained, then deepens, the lower strings pulling beneath the melody. I feel Katie shift beside me. Her fingers find mine on the armrest between us, and I turn my hand over so she can slide hers into it.
Halfway through, I feel her looking at me. I keep my eyes on the stage for a few seconds before turning my head.
“What?” I murmur.
She leans slightly closer. “You really do love this.”
“I told you I did.” I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles once before turning back toward the stage.
By intermission, she has opinions. I should have known she would. We step into the hallway with the rest of the audience, and I take two glasses of champagne from a passing server before handing one to her. She accepts it, takes a sip, and looks back toward the theater doors.
“The second piece was better than the first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Was it?”
“For me, yes.”
“Why?”
I love watching her think. She looks away when she does it, searching somewhere in her own head until she finds the words she wants.
“The first one was pretty,” she says. “The second one had more feeling in it. It reminded me of a storm that never actually breaks.”
I stare at her for a moment, and I don’t bother hiding how much I enjoy that answer.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“Michael.”
“I enjoy hearing you talk about it.”
She looks down into her champagne for a second, smiling to herself, then takes another sip.
I used to spend intermissions speaking to people I barely cared about because that was part of the routine.
I would shake hands, accept praise for donations, and listen to men talk about business they hoped I would involve myself in later.
Tonight, I stand beside Katie and listen to her explain that the second piece made her think of rain over dark water, and I enjoy the evening more than I have in years.
“My mother will like you,” I say.
Katie’s eyes lift to mine. “Yeah?”
“She likes beautiful things. Complicated things too, when she has patience for them.”
Katie studies me. “Am I beautiful or complicated in this scenario?”
“Both.”
My mother has missed most of my life because she chose to.
There’s no point dressing that up into something kinder.
Still, the version of her who brought me here, who sat beside me in dark theaters and rested a hand over mine when the music started, and the one who sat at the dining table with my father, was the closest thing I had to her being fully present.
After the show, the cool night breeze feels good after the packed lobby. Enzo waits at the curb with the SUV, and I help Katie inside before getting in beside her. The second we’re settled, she slips her hand into mine and rests her head on my shoulder.
“I’m really glad you brought me tonight.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She tilts her face up just enough to look at me. “Can we come back sometime?”
“You liked it that much?”
She nods lazily against my shoulder. “Someday when we have kids, they can come with us.”
When we have kids. I want that future so badly it borders on fucking insanity, and she knows it. I haven’t kept it a secret, but now I can see clear as day.
Her pregnant with our child. Her standing in our kitchen holding our baby against her chest. Her laughing next to me in the front seat as our children argue with each other in the back on the way home from another symphony.
I want the ring on her finger. I want my children in her arms. I want every fucking version of forever she’ll give me.