Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
There was a good chance that Nally had stuffed everything up royally.
He shouldn’t have walked away from Jude after their night on Blackfriars Bridge.
That’s what it would forever be in his mind, even though they’d spent most of the evening at Overture and the Tate Modern.
The things they’d said on the bridge felt more important than fine food and famous art.
But what had they said, really? Was it a confession of love or a veiled admission that everything was over?
They’d taken the Tube back to Mayfair and Jude’s family’s house, but after a kiss that wasn’t even close to half of what Nally wanted, Nally had headed straight back to the closest Tube station and hopped a train home instead of spending the rest of the night at Jude’s or between hotel sheets.
It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but what he did want seemed so far away.
No, that was wrong. As his train rattled home through a night where everyone in the countryside around him seemed busy while his world had dropped into slow motion, he felt more like everything he wanted was right there in front of him, but separated from him by paper-thin glass that he couldn’t break.
He was glad that none of his family was up and wandering the halls when he reached Hawthorne House.
His family had made no secret of how giddy they were that he and Jude were trying to make something more of their friendship.
Of course, by the time he snuck back into his flat, locking the door behind him, which was something he never did, knowing that made him more anxious and depressed than ever.
It wasn’t just him and Jude he had to worry about.
His entire family was invested in what should have been a natural relationship.
Simply put, it was all stupid and miserable. Nally flopped into bed, frustrated with himself, longing for Jude, and dead certain he wouldn’t sleep a wink.
He woke up what felt like five minutes later, surprised that he’d slept the whole night, but not feeling rested at all. His brain picked up right where it’d left off the night before, with worry and panic.
“Why are you being so stupid about this?” he asked his reflection in his bathroom mirror with a sigh before getting into the shower. “It’s Jude. Jude isn’t Timothy.”
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? After all this time, all these years, neither he nor Jude could shake the specter of everything that had gone on between Jude and the guy who could have been their other best friend forever.
A sneaky idea began to take hold in Nally’s head as he showered, prolonging the whole thing so he could stand under the hot water with the sound of splashing drowning out the volume of his thoughts for as long as possible.
There were bits of information he didn’t have, things he had never asked about because he’d been too busy doing damage control from his own end.
Maybe some of what had happened back then made a difference to what was going on now.
The idea stayed with Nally as he dried off and got dressed, as he fixed himself a cup of tea and ate a bowl of cereal.
It wouldn’t let go as he checked his emails, remembered that he had a recording session in London for a project Silver Productions had set up for him, and quickly glanced at his socials.
Looking at the sheer volume of replies and DMs across platforms from the pics he and Jude had posted the night before nearly blasted the idea out of his head, especially since there was a message from Quentin.
“He’s not good enough for you. I would treat you so much better.”
“Why won’t you just give me a chance?”
“I showed up at Overture, but you were already gone.”
That last message nearly made the tea sour in Nally’s stomach.
He was so tempted to just block Quentin and stick his head in the sand, but doing that felt like it would leave him blind to the intentions of someone who was proving to be legitimately dangerous.
He needed to send it all to the police, but even thinking about doing that filled him with a spikey sense of hopelessness.
The police had already said they couldn’t do anything until Quentin threatened or committed violence.
In the end, Nally left his half-eaten breakfast and headed downstairs and into the heart of the arts center side of Hawthorne House to his studio.
What he needed more than anything to sort through the chaos was his music.
He needed to play and lose himself in it.
He needed to block out everything and focus on what made his heart beat.
He started out playing a few abstract notes, attempting to tap into his composing brain. But nothing new would come out of him. Everything was blocked up and muddled. So he switched to playing the older composition that he would be recording with a string quartet that afternoon.
Even that gave him a hard time, though. He got the notes right, but his music had no soul to it.
He switched to one of his favorite pieces that someone else had composed, the theme from the film The Piano.
He loved that music, its emotional intensity and its driving rhythms. That theme was one of the things that had sparked his interest in music ages ago and had started him on the path he walked now.
It was ironic that the official title of the song was “The Heart Asks Pleasure First”.
As he played, Jude’s face filled his thoughts.
So did his body. The music he played was a perfect accompaniment to remembering a hot night of passion.
Everything had happened so naturally at the hotel in Scotland.
They’d been perfect together, in perfect sync.
Why couldn’t they seem to grasp that again in London?
Nally stopped playing mid-song and slammed his hands on the piano keys. He wasn’t going to be able to get around it. There was only one thing he could do that stood a chance of helping him sort things.
With a sigh, he took his phone off the side of the piano where he’d put it earlier and scrolled through his contacts until he found Timothy’s name.
There was a chance Tim had changed his number, but Nally didn’t think so.
The break-up had been between Timothy and Jude, not him and Timothy.
Even though Nally had chosen Jude all those years ago, there weren’t any bad feelings between him and Tim.
“Hello?” Timothy answered the call right away. “Nally?”
Panic closed Nally’s throat for a second. This was a terrible idea.
“Hey, Tim,” he forced himself to say before things turned too awkward.
“It’s great to hear from you,” Timothy went on, sounding completely genuine. “I would have called to congratulate you after the premiere of To Serve Him the other week, but I figured you’d be incredibly busy becoming a composing superstar.”
Nally breathed out a self-effacing laugh. “It’s been a crazy last couple of weeks. I don’t think it’s even been a full fortnight.”
Timothy laughed. “Listen to you. A fortnight. You’re still talking like Jude.”
Once again, everything inside Nally threatened to seize up with fear. “Yeah, about that,” he started.
Timothy cut over him with, “I see the two of you are still spending a lot of time together,” before Nally could find the courage to ask all the things he needed to. “I always knew the two of you would end up together.”
Nally froze. “You did?”
“Of course,” Timothy laughed. “Why do you think things fell apart so spectacularly between me and Jude back at uni?”
Nally’s jaw dropped. He had to force himself to move it and to work moisture back into his mouth so he could talk. “Actually, that’s why I called,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Oh?” Timothy sounded so kind, so open.
“Why did you and Jude break up?” Nally asked in a rush before he could chicken out.
Asking the question opened the floodgates.
“Jude has been my best friend since we were kids, but everything has changed lately. We want more than that. We even had sex once. But now everything is so shit and it’s like we don’t even know how to talk to each other.
We’re both so afraid of—” He stopped, suddenly anxious about offending Timothy.
“Afraid of everything blowing up like it did with the three of us when I called things off with Jude?” Timothy asked gently.
Nally couldn’t breathe. His face heated like a furnace, and his hands shook. “You broke up with Jude? I…I never really asked what happened. I was too busy trying to salvage my friendships with both of you. I’m sorry I chose Jude over you.” Waves of old guilt washed back over Nally.
But Timothy just laughed. “No, you’re not,” he said. Nally could hear the smile in his voice and remembered what it looked like, even though he hadn’t seen it for years. “And you made the right decision, so don’t feel bad.”
“I do feel bad,” Nally said, sagging on the piano bench and wishing he had a chair he could flop back into.
“Of course you do,” Timothy laughed. “You’re the most sensitive, angst-filled, beautiful soul I’ve ever known.” Nally’s face felt even hotter. “Next to Jude, that is.”
“We’re both basket cases,” Nally said, nearly sobbing. “We’re never going to be able to make this work.”
Surprisingly, Timothy laughed. “You’ve already been making it work for years now. The only people who haven’t realized that you two are and always have been a ride-or-die item are the two of you.”
It felt one hundred percent true, but also awkward as hell. They must have looked like such fools for years.
“I really liked Jude,” Timothy went on. “I count myself lucky that I got to date him for those few weeks. But it always felt like we were cheating on you. No sex is good enough to override guilt like that.”
“Wow,” Nally gusted out, pushing a hand through his hair.