Chapter Twenty-Nine
CALLUM HAD never been to Champaign–Urbana before.
Growing up in the northern suburbs of Chicago, attending college in Ann Arbor, and relocating to Boston shortly thereafter, he’d never had a reason to visit central Illinois.
To his surprise, he found it charming. Maybe it was the gorgeous autumn drive up from Peterson, with crisp blue skies and trees painted crimson and gold.
Maybe it was the fact that instead of being at home in an empty apartment, he was here with Blair on an unexpected mini road trip.
Or maybe it was seeing the place through Blair’s eyes.
When they’d arrived at the University of Illinois Urbana–Champaign, she’d given him a tour of the areas she’d frequented as a student, pointing out the Music Building and Smith Memorial Hall.
She peppered him with stories and anecdotes and musical memories.
For an entire afternoon, Blair graced him with her softer side.
Warm, open, and relaxed. Just like she always was with the students.
After dining on cheese fondue at a little café across the street from the concert hall, Blair escorted him up what seemed like a million stairs to the entrance of Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, the School of Music’s crown jewel.
His breath caught when they entered Foellinger Great Hall, all gleaming, golden wood and gorgeous acoustics.
The same acoustician who’d renovated the famous Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center had also designed Foellinger, Blair had told him.
Callum stared open-mouthed and settled into his seat, frissons of excitement pulsing through his body. What would it be like to direct a choir in this space? To hear one of his pieces performed in a place like this?
A quiet gasp from Blair pulled him back to the present, and he glanced her way. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” She stared straight at the stage, her concert program closed on her lap. Her face looked like it had been carved from marble, and her eyes had grown cold.
Callum resisted the urge to sigh. Clearly she wasn’t fine. He just hoped that, unlike at work, he wasn’t at fault this time.
“Blair.” He lightly rested his hand on her forearm. “Come on. What is it? What did I do?”
“It’s not you.” She opened the program again, and her slender finger pointed to a name. “That’s Derek.”
“The Derek?”
“Yup. The Derek. I’m not the kind to stalk my exes on Facebook, so I had no idea what had happened to him or where he ended up. I had no clue he sang in this chorus, or I never would’ve come.”
So what did that mean for tonight? Did she want to leave? Was she still hung up on this guy? Was he . . . competition?
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
Blair paused, working her lip in thought, then shook her head. “We’re here. And I’ve heard really good things about this choir. Let’s stay.”
“Okay. Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He sought her gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Blair glanced at her watch and shrugged. “Well, we’ve still got a few minutes before the concert starts, so . . . sure. I guess.”
“Only if you want to.”
Blair bit her lip. “I don’t. Not really. But if we’re going to be”—she gestured between them—“then I need to get it out there.”
“Okay.” He reached for her hand. Maybe the slight touch would ground her. Keep her in the present. Keep her focused on him.
“He’s a tenor.”
Of course he was a tenor.
“We met on an elevator in the Music Building my first day on campus. We started talking and had this instant connection. We ended up skipping our next classes and going out for coffee instead.” Bittersweet nostalgia carved a slight crease in her cheek.
Crinkled the pale skin next to her eyes.
“He needed a pianist for his junior recital, and I already knew some of his rep, so we decided to work together. I was his pianist for everything for two years. And right after his senior recital—onstage, no less—he proposed.”
“Onstage? Wow.” Blair didn’t seem the public-proposal type.
“Yeah, he made it quite the production. But that’s Derek for you.”
“Must have been fairly confident in your answer.”
“I gave him no reason not to be,” she said.
“I fawned over that guy. Rearranged my entire life for him. Gave him my absolute best, both personally and professionally, because he promised we’d have a future together.
We planned to get married after we’d both finished school.
He went to Wisconsin for grad school, so we knew there’d be some long distance involved.
But . . . while I was finishing my undergrad degree and planning our wedding, he was meeting Marguerite. ”
A soprano. Had to have been.
“One night, about a month before the wedding, I decided to surprise him.” She gave a shuddery sigh.
“I drove up to Madison after I finished a concert. Didn’t tell him I was coming.
But the surprise was on me. Because Marguerite was with him.
And it was exceptionally clear what they’d been doing just before he answered the door. ”
Callum’s heart ached, and he put his arm around her. “I’m sorry, Blair.”
She rested her head on his shoulder for a second. “Thank you.”
Suddenly her prickliness made sense. People were always leaving her, both professionally and personally. Sounded like Derek’s abandonment had been the most painful. Blair wasn’t icy. She was hurt. And she protected herself the only way she knew how.
Well, maybe she didn’t have to do all the work herself anymore. He wanted nothing more than to protect her. To care for her. To never do to her what that dirtbag Derek had done. To never promise something he couldn’t follow through with.
And there was the sticking point. Because he couldn’t promise he’d stay. His plan was to move back to Boston. That had always been the plan, because that would get him his real life back.
But now that ambition rang hollow. How would following through with his plan not be doing what Derek had done?
How would she not view that as him just using her?
He knew his motives, but that didn’t matter, because his actions would speak loud and clear.
Not just to her, but to the kids. And as much as she loved them, that might be the deepest cut of all, because he’d just be using them too.
No matter what he accomplished with them, no matter what kind of success they had together, none of it would matter to the kids if he left them after this year and forced them to adjust to yet another new director next year.
And what did he have waiting for him back in Boston, exactly? A choir that had gone under financially and no longer existed. Memories of Rayne around every corner. The environment that had stripped him of inspiration and rendered him unable to compose.
He had a choir here. Granted, they were teenagers and not professionals, but in an odd way that made it more meaningful.
The adults in his Boston choir, though amazing singers, came fully formed.
Any wisdom he imparted just frosted the cake.
Teaching his Peterson choirs let him bake the cake, which, to his surprise, satisfied him all the more.
He was composing again too.
Wait. Was going back to Boston still what he wanted?
For the first time, his answer to that question leaned toward a no. Maybe his mother had been right.
Maybe God did indeed have a plan.
Peterson was part of it. He’d accepted that a while ago.
But maybe it wasn’t the stepping stone he’d thought it to be. Maybe it was his intended destination all along.
Blair and Callum joined the throngs streaming from the Great Hall into the lobby after what had been, overall, a wonderful concert. She’d enjoyed it.
She would have enjoyed it more had she not spent the last two hours watching Derek.
With his blond hair, surfer tan, and cocksure stage presence, he hadn’t changed at all. If it weren’t for the fact that she sat in the audience with Callum instead of onstage at the piano, she’d have thought herself right back in school.
She picked up her pace, her heels clicking against the parquet floor, and hoped Callum would follow her.
Because as much fun as this trip down memory lane had been, she was ready for it to be over.
Enough of the past. She wanted to hop back into the car with Callum and go grab dessert somewhere and be in the present.
Get Callum’s thoughts on the music. Not the performers, but the actual music, from a compositional standpoint.
She’d never been close to a composer before, and the opportunity to get that perspective on things fascinated her.
Okay, Callum himself fascinated her. More so every minute. Especially when she’d trauma-dumped about Derek, and Callum put his arm around her and told her he was sorry.
Everyone in her life kept pushing her to get over it, move past it, stop clinging to it.
And they were right, of course. She needed to.
But Callum, who frankly had the most reason to urge her to get past her pain, hadn’t done that.
He hadn’t tried to yank her onto dry ground but had instead paused for a moment in the muck with her.
Maybe because he’d been through the muck himself. Rayne’s death. Derek’s infidelity. Both had resulted in deep wounds and the stark realization that a promised, cherished, hoped-for future had vanished like mist.
Whatever the reason for his compassion, it meant the world to her. Most likely it had also started to heal some of the broken places in her heart. She’d have to tell him that. And she would, as soon as they got out of this crowded lobby and someplace quiet. As soon as—
“Blair?”
Oh, crap. She knew that voice.
Part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard it, grab Callum’s hand, and sprint for the exit.
But the other part forced her to stop walking and turn around to face the past she longed to forget.
“Hello, Derek.”