Chapter 14
Jess
No matter how many cleansing breaths I took, nerves overwhelmed me. If I hadn’t already bitten off all my nails, I’d do it again. I was half tempted to take off my shoes and bite my damn toenails at this point.
Being a mom was joyful and amazing. Absolutely the greatest experience of my life. But at times, it was terrifying. Because I couldn’t protect them from failure or disappointment or hurt, and I couldn’t fix all of life’s problems for them.
And this was a big stage. The Brooklyn Academy of Music was one of New York’s most prestigious performing arts centers. Being invited to play in a showcase here was a very big deal, and Kit had been obsessing for months over her piece.
The space was something out of a movie, with crystal chandeliers, velvet curtains, and art déco architecture. The scent of expensive perfume wafted around like a floral cloud, and the high-society alpha parents working the room around me only made me feel more out of place.
Most days, I was proud of the life my girls and I were creating for ourselves. But in a place like this, surrounded by Julliard prodigies, private tutors, and world-class teachers, I couldn’t help but doubt myself.
Kit had fallen in love with the piano when she was four.
The white marble foyer of our house in Bergen County was bigger than the apartment the girls and I inhabited now, and Kenneth had insisted on placing a grand piano in the middle of it.
The instrument was beautiful and cost more than most luxury cars, but neither of us played.
It was a showpiece the designer thought would add to the ambiance, I guess.
Then preschool-age Kit discovered the sounds it made.
She lifted the cover off the keys, sat on the bench, and played.
She didn’t plunk randomly, with too much force, like one would expect a four-year-old would do.
She didn’t bang on it but played, stretching her fingers and experimenting with notes and rhythms, her smile growing wider by the second.
I put her in lessons soon after, and since then, nothing had made her as happy as playing. At her first recital, when she played an amazing rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” I wept with pride.
Her teacher had pushed for her to be included in tonight’s showcase. Some of the best musicians in the tri-state area were here, many a lot older, but Kit belonged here.
She worked hard and practiced nonstop, even though we no longer had a piano.
My mom guilt surged each time I thought about it.
I’d found a hand-me-down keyboard, though, and my sweet girl hadn’t batted an eye at it.
Every night, she’d plug her headphones in and practice.
I’d also been able to speak with the administration at her school, and they’d agreed that instead of study hall, she would go to the music room and practice every afternoon on a real piano.
It had made the transition to a new school a little less painful, and it had given her plenty of practice time.
She was naturally talented, sure, but she was also passionate. She was dedicated and she was invested, sometimes crying when she couldn’t get a part of the piece right, then beaming with joy when it clicked.
I’d spent my life searching for a passion, yet she’d figured it out before middle school. I was in awe of her.
Tonight, I was in awe, yes, but I was also on the verge of throwing up. This was a big freaking deal. Everyone who was anyone in the classical music world in our area was here to scope out future stars. And I couldn’t imagine handling that kind of pressure at only twelve.
Greta sat next to me in her ruffly blue dress, one of Kit’s hand-me-downs, smoothing the French braids I’d struggled to get right this afternoon. Lana and Max, who’d hired a babysitter for the night, sat on her other side.
“Stop twitching,” Greta scolded, like she was the parent and I was the child. “She’s gonna be amazing.”
I smiled softly at her. I admired her certainty and her faith in her sister.
“She’s practiced so many times. At this point I could play it.”
Tipping closer, I kissed her forehead.
She gave me an annoyed look, pulling back. Then, eyes widening, she tapped my shoulder. “Mom, look.”
I whipped around, and when I caught sight of the three devastatingly handsome men marching down our row with two smaller but just as handsome boys behind them, I gasped.
Brian.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I stood, causing the cushion of my seat to fly up and bounce against its back.
He shrugged. “I mentioned that I wanted to come cheer Kit on, and they asked if they could tag along.”
“Kit’s our cousin now. We gotta cheer for her.” T. J., grinning a toothless grin, bounced on his toes.
He and Murphy wore navy suits that brought out the blue eyes they’d definitely inherited from their dads. And the four of them together? Sully and Cal looking properly British in their bespoke suits? The sight was devastating.
I swore I could hear swooning in the seats behind us.
“T. J., Murphy,” Greta said. “Come sit by me. My mom let me bring fidgets and snacks.”
“Sweet,” T. J shouted, plowing past me.
Murphy skirted around me with a quiet “excuse me,” and Lana and Max moved down so the kids could sit together.
I made introductions, and after Lana shook Brian’s hand, she turned to me, her eyes bulging. I could only imagine the unhinged texts she’d send later tonight.
Brian shuffled to my side. His beard was trimmed and his suit looked custom. God, he was so good-looking. Just having him here made me feel steadier. He looked powerful and confident as he homed in on me completely.
My stomach, already churning with nerves, flipped.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked shyly.
Sully and Cal had moved to my other side so they could sit next to the boys and were busy chatting with Max about the Metros.
“No,” I said, my cheeks heating. “You didn’t have to come.”
He paused, still standing over me, his face lowered. The intensity in his golden eyes sent a shiver down my spine. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Once he’d settled beside me, he stretched his legs out and looked around. “This is a swanky place. I’m glad it’s worthy of Kit. I can’t wait to see her up there on stage.”
I blinked repeatedly, focusing on the stage, trying not to burst into tears. The combination of nerves, excitement, and Brian’s presence overwhelmed my senses.
“I’m sure you have better things to do on a Friday night,” I said, still unable to look at him. If I did, I was certain I’d fall into some kind of handsome man vortex.
He chuckled. “As it turns out, I do not. Most Friday nights, I work late, work out, and then fall asleep watching baseball. This is a glamorous night out for me.”
Within minutes, the seats around us were full and the lights had dimmed.
And suddenly, my nerves had ratcheted up again.
“Your hands are shaking,” Brian whispered, leaning close.
“This is a big deal, and I’m worried about Kit. That she’ll feel like she doesn’t belong here.”
Brian reached over, his large, steady hand engulfing mine. “She belongs here,” he said firmly. “Because of you. Because you see her and you believe in her. Because you taught her to be brave and bold.”
Finally, I forced myself to look at him, even as tears welled in my eyes.
“I know you’re nervous,” he whispered. We were so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from him. “But she’s gonna be fine. That girl’s got a spine of steel, just like her mom.”
The tears were getting closer to falling. Dammit. How did he always know the right thing to say? With a cleansing breath, I dragged my attention to the stage, though I couldn’t help but get caught up in the warmth of his hand and his cool, masculine smell.
In the silence, anxiety immediately clawed its way back in. Looking for a distraction, I checked on Greta, who was whispering to the boys, smiling and fidgeting a whole lot less with the dress she’d begrudgingly agreed to wear.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” Brian whispered, the feel of his hot breath on my neck sending another shiver down my spine.
I bit down on my lip hard to keep from grinning. He was being polite. That was all there was to it. Yes, I’d dressed up, but I was wearing a simple, inexpensive bright blue dress. Hardly haute couture. I had no doubt his suit cost ten times more.
But I liked the fabric and felt comfortable in it. It was A-line, which flattered my hips, and had a swishy skirt.
Exactly the kind of thing Kenneth hated.
He’d have chastised me. He always wanted me in tight black dresses, boring as hell and god-awfully restrictive, along with sky-high heels. Serious, expensive outfits. The sort of thing a woman wore when she, or in our case, her husband, wanted everyone to know they had money.
Reclaiming my wardrobe had felt like an act of rebellion, and these days, it was second nature to wear pretty things that made me feel good. I didn’t dress for men; I dressed for myself. But his compliment wormed its way into my heart anyway.
The lights dimmed further as a string quartet set up on the stage, and I settled into my seat to enjoy the show. One after another—with some in groups—the most talented kids I’d ever seen wowed us with their skills.
My mother had been a pianist. She’d tried to teach me, but it had never stuck. My chest pinched at the thought of her. I’d give anything to have her here today. I missed her fiercely every day, but especially in these moments. She would have been bursting with pride.
After several impressive performances, it was Kit’s turn.
“And now on the piano,” the emcee said. “Katherine Mosely, playing Adagio in D Minor composed by Johann Sebastian Bach.”
Kit walked onto the stage slowly, her face lifted, her attention completely focused on the piano. Once she’d settled on the bench, she ran her fingers over the keys. Then she took a deep breath and began to play.
The piece began slowly, delicate and melancholy, before building into something more emotional.