Chapter 24 #3
They hadn’t used their whole hour, so she hoped John wouldn’t be tied up with another session yet.
She asked for him at the desk, and when he appeared in reception, his eyebrows lifted in surprise, but his eyes lit up, telling her he was glad to see her.
She saw in his expression such a kaleidoscope of emotion, she wondered again at how he was able to hold so much feeling all at once.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Sorry for showing up at your work,” she said, biting her lip. “Do you have five minutes?”
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s walk out.”
They took Richard with them and wandered out onto Abbey Road, dodging a group of male American tourists who were trying to re-create the famous Beatles crosswalk photo.
“How many people have you seen doing that?” she asked John.
“A day, or ever?” he said, smiling warmly.
The street was lined with large town houses and leafy trees. Richard seemed to know which way he wanted to go, tugging John left down the pavement.
“That’s great they let you take your dog to work,” Chloe said.
“He’s a support dog,” John said, taking his glasses off and tucking them into a pocket. But then he shook his head, as though catching this sidestep into small talk. “Chloe, what’s going on?”
“Funny story,” she said with a nervous laugh. “That last session you recorded, that was me, with my dad and his friends. I was on the triangle.”
He blinked in bemusement. “Wait, what? That was you? Why?”
“The music we were recording, it was part of the score you wrote, from Back to Brideshead.” He still looked bemused, so she kept talking.
“You were hurt that all that work you did came to nothing, that the music was only ever played once. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture.” She paused, laughing at herself now.
“But then you didn’t even recognize the music, so it kind of ruined my grand plan. ”
“I thought it sounded familiar,” he said, beaming. “Were you wearing a fake beard?”
She covered her face with her hands. “Maybe the Imp was better at surprises than me.”
John stopped walking and she turned to face him.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, his face serious again.
“You were right,” she said softly. “Everything you said in the cellar. I was lost, but I am finding myself again.”
“I’m sorry for everything I said that night, after the cellar,” John said, his brow now creased with anxiety. “It wasn’t my place to judge you. I’ve picked up the phone to call you so many times, but—”
“You don’t need to apologize. You were right. And Rob isn’t what I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked, his voice gentle now. And she watched his pupils flare, the kaleidoscope in his eyes switching from hope, to joy, to nerves and back again.
“You,” she said. “I love you. I think I always have.”
For a long second, neither of them moved.
Then he reached up, brushing a hand gently against her cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw with a tenderness that made her pulse quicken.
Her lips parted instinctively; his hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, pulling her closer, his forehead resting against hers for just a second.
Then, he closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers.
First it was slow and deliberate. Her hands moved up to his chest, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in the sensation of him, so close, so real.
She could feel the warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart in rapid sync with hers.
He smelled of piano keys and sweat, inexplicably sexy.
Then his kiss deepened, messier now, their teeth clashing, lips fumbling, until they found each other’s rhythm.
Everything around them fell away, the city, the noise, the past; there was only this moment, this perfect moment.
A wave of heat exploded inside her—love, lust, magic, raw and distinctly human.
Eventually, John pulled back, breathless, his lips swollen.
“Well, that is not what I expected to happen when I came into work today,” he said, eyes glinting. Then he whispered, “Did I just make out with a member of the Granny Smiths?”
She laughed. “I think you did.”
“I’ll be your first groupie,” he said, stroking his hand through her hair as he gazed at her adoringly.
“I don’t know if triangle players usually get groupies,” she said, and then their eyes stilled on each other. “Is this real?” she murmured. “It feels…I’ve never felt this.”
He dipped his head closer to hers, hands moving to her waist.
“Do you remember me telling you on the bus I wasn’t sure if I believed in soulmates?” he said, and she nodded. “That wasn’t true. I do, but back then, I was so sure you were mine. And I just never saw a path to this ending.”
Her cheeks ached, every muscle in her face creasing with joy. She felt as though she were floating and needed to tug herself back down to earth. “We hardly know each other now. What if we annoy each other? I’m probably very annoying, I’m super particular about my hats. Or what if—”
He pressed a finger to her lips.
“You’re not annoying,” he said. “And if you are, I can’t wait to be annoyed by you.”
She leaned in to kiss him again, and they smiled into each other’s mouths. “Wait,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He lowered his gaze, and Chloe’s stomach dropped.
“What is it?” she asked, bracing herself.
“It’s Richard,” he said, looking down at the whippet.
“What about him? Is he okay?” she asked.
John tried to look serious, but now his mouth tugged into an impish grin.
“No, he’s fine. It’s just, he isn’t really an emotional support animal. You were right, I do just say that so I can take him places. Because I can’t be without him.”
Chloe stared, pushed a fist gently against his arm, then burst out laughing.
“I knew it.” But before she could tease him properly, he silenced her with another kiss, deeper, more impassioned now, no care for who might be watching.
And she felt that delicious shift from teasing to heat, her whole body communing with his.
And now she knew for sure that she had been born in the right era, because she had been born in the era of John.