Chapter 2
Mason
Tugging at my collar, I shifted my large frame in the chair that was definitely not made for men of my size.
Briefly, I imagined my retired NFL defenseman brother-in-law trying to fit into one of the narrow chairs and snorted.
Luca would have likely ripped off the arms of the chair and the one beside it to make room for himself and give him plenty of room to hold Violet on his lap.
My amusement caught the attention of the woman seated beside me.
She lifted her gaze from the stage, where a student was performing.
Ballet to Bach. Having been to more than my fair share of dance recitals for my cousin Mia, I could honestly say the dancer was skilled.
Everyone in the audience was enraptured, yet I was struggling not to fall asleep.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” my neighbor whispered. “Maya is my daughter. She’s studied ballet since she was two. This summer, she’s going to Paris to…”
I zoned out after that, keeping a polite smile on my face and nodding where I predicted was appropriate. Maya’s mother had been introduced to me when I’d arrived with my own mom earlier. Jane. Jennifer. Janine? I couldn’t remember anything other than it started with a J.
Mom had made all the small talk before the talent competition began.
It was for seniors at the same private academy both my sister and I had attended as teens.
The film club recorded it and broadcast it live on their social media channels, treating it like a reality TV show.
The grand prize was ten grand, which was basically a new handbag to the majority of the contestants.
Primarily, it was bragging rights for their twenty-year reunion and something they could add to their portfolio.
My parents still contributed to the school, including donating funds and time whenever requested.
Having Harper Stevenson at this event was a privilege.
She interviewed the winners and dedicated a full edition of her magazine to them.
Considering she was not only the editor in chief but also the co-owner of one of the top reputable entertainment magazines in the country, she could literally make or break someone with a few choice words.
Mom and Dad never said why they stayed so involved in the private school after I’d graduated more than a decade ago, but I was sure it was because they wanted to remain a fixture in the academy in case Vi settled down permanently in Santa Monica.
Maybe one day.
I could see the longing on my mom’s face each time Vi came back to the West Coast for the summer or holidays. Dad was always holding his breath when they left, as if that would stop the ache of missing his eldest and all five of his grandchildren.
Scratching the skin beneath the collar of my tux, I turned my head toward Mom, hoping to end whatever—I wanted to say Jessica?—was droning on about. Only to find the seat empty.
Damn it!
She’d ditched me.
Not that I blamed her. Jana—that sounded closer—and her husband Walter…
Wade? They had been annoying as fuck from the moment Mom and I arrived.
Cooing and gushing over their oh-so-talented daughter.
At one point, they invited me to dinner after the event.
Me, and only me. Not my mom. I didn’t miss the stars that filled both their eyes as the woman had put her hand on my arm and proceeded to tell me how beautiful, smart, and amazing her daughter was.
Mom had hidden a laugh behind a delicate cough.
She didn’t rush to save me, didn’t make up an excuse to get me out of it.
I was on my own with the annoying couple.
Apparently they had no idea that they should have been working on impressing her and not me.
Mom had been highly amused when we first arrived, which quickly turned into annoyance as the event progressed.
Mom had the patience of a saint, yet even saints had their limits.
Vaguely, I remembered her excusing herself to the bathroom, but that had been three performances ago.
Swallowing a groan, I glanced around the private box.
A few of the board members, whom I knew, and the headmaster, whom I didn’t, were seated with us, as well as two of the four judges.
The headmaster wasn’t the same man from Vi’s or my years.
I’d never met this guy before, but he shook my hand like we were old friends when the introductions were made.
There was no sign of Mom or her bodyguard.
Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I could already hear the lecture I would get from Dad later.
He was supposed to attend this event with her, and when he got stuck at the studio, he asked me to take his place.
Asked might not have been the correct term.
Commanded came closer. Despite Mom’s having her own security detail, Dad wouldn’t be at ease unless he knew I was with her when he couldn’t be.
More like he didn’t want anyone flirting with his wife or thinking that her bodyguard was her husband.
Which happened often enough that it caused Dad severe indigestion.
And now the woman had up and disappeared on me. Babysitting parents was a tough job, and my independent mother was more difficult to manage than my rock star father.
Before I could stand, movement down below caught my attention. There, in the first row, Mom was taking a seat direct center to the stage. My relief intensified when I spotted her guard standing at the end of the aisle, vigilantly observing the crowd.
Fishing my phone from my inside jacket pocket, I was ready to send her an annoyed text when I saw she’d already left me one.
Mom: Sorry, honey. I couldn’t take any more of Janise droning on and on about her daughter.
She was giving me a headache. Forgive me for abandoning you.
I promise to save you from her before the end of the night.
For now, though, I’m going to enjoy the last bit of the competition from the empty seat in front. Kisses!
Smothering a half laugh, half groan, I pocketed my phone without replying. It was the kisses that did it for me. Every damn time. All she ever had to say was “kisses,” and it melted my heart. I could almost hear her in my head as I read the text.
When the music ended and the spotlight faded, everyone around me began clapping like it was the most amazing performance they’d ever witnessed.
Apparently none of them had ever seen my cousin Mia onstage.
Before her knee injuries ended her professional dance career, she’d been mesmerizing.
Her talent and passion exceeded any other dancer I’d seen in my life.
Now she ran a successful dance school and worked as a choreography consultant.
I clapped along with everyone else, attempting not to be rude.
With Mom no longer beside me, though, it was going to be more of a struggle to stay polite.
I played the part of being respectful when she was around, and that was about as far as my acting talent could take me.
If someone wanted a Stevenson with more talent, they should focus on my cousin Arella.
One more performer and then it was over, thank fuck.
Then I could stretch my legs, grab a drink, even if it was nothing more than champagne, and attempt to talk Mom into calling it an early night.
She could reach out to the winners later about interviews for the magazine.
I was freaking starving. No doubt there would be canapés passed around, but those little appetizers wouldn’t touch the gnawing in my gut.
I needed a steak or a burger, something with substance.
Mind on the grilled beef I was hoping to devour in the near future, I wasn’t expecting it when the spotlight snapped on the figure seated center stage.
I blinked once, then again, my eyes not believing what I was seeing for a moment.
Rich chocolate hair braided and falling over one shoulder, a timeless black dress that molded over gentle curves.
She held a cello in front of her, her chin tilted at a fierce, stubborn angle that gave me a glimpse of her pert nose, plush lips that were naturally sculpted, and eyes that appeared almost too big for her face.
Air became trapped in my lungs, my heart pausing only to give a painful double beat, whooshing the air out of me.
All around me, I heard hissed conversations but couldn’t make out a single word being said. My focus was ensnared by the breathtaking creature sitting beneath the harsh spotlight.
Raising her bow, she lowered her gaze. Not to a stand holding her music, but straight at Mom.
Her chin appeared to wobble for a moment, causing chaos to unleash in my head.
Just as quickly as it appeared, the tremble stopped and turned into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile that jolted something awake inside me, while calming the noise that had started in my head.
Without taking her gaze from my mother, she began to play. Not the Bach concerto that was listed in the event program. Instead, the first haunting notes of…
Fuck, she was playing “Stairway to Heaven.”
Murmurs began again around me, full of confusion and anger. I shushed them, desperate to hear every note, afraid I’d miss even one, never once tearing my gaze from the perfect little cellist as she bled emotions into the audience. Into me.
“That’s not even the music she was listed to play in the program,” Janell or Janessa whined loudly. “This is against the rules, right?”
“Considering your daughter didn’t perform to the music listed on the program for her, I doubt you are going to win that argument, Mrs. Myers,” someone else answered with dry amusement.
“That’s still not fair,” she hissed. “What song even is this? I’ve never heard it before.”
“Shut the fuck up so I can listen!” I barked, effectively cutting off any further conversation in the box.
After a moment, a haughty sigh came from the woman beside me, but I lifted my hand before she could speak. She was fucking ruining it, trying to pull me out of the moment.
It wasn’t just the music, though, that was incredible.
Each note touched something inside me, pulling a piece of me free from deep within that I hadn’t realized was buried.
No, it was all her. How she leaned into each bow, her fingers working along the instrument, not simply creating noise.
There was passion and pain, beauty and sorrow.
Everything she was feeling was right there, laid bare for the world to see.
And all I wanted to do was heal her.