45. Jaxon
Chapter 45
Jaxon
SIX MONTHS LATER
“ H ow long do I have to be blindfolded, Jax?” Sadie whines as she takes another cautious step forward. One of my black silk ties is loosely wrapped over her eyes, but I made sure it blocked her vision enough to keep my surprise, well, a surprise.
From behind us, Max’s voice reverberates against the metal walls of the moving truck like an amplifier. “Yeah, Jaxon. Hurry up and show your girl what’s inside already!”
I glare at Max for egging her on, but he just tosses me a wink. Everyone knows about what I’ve been hiding from Sadie. And I don’t consider this one a secret since I always planned on telling her.
And today is the day .
The envelope in my back pocket crinkles with every step, and I itch to reach for it. But my hands are clasped on Sadie’s shoulders as I gently lead her up the steps of the house. Our house.
A Spanish villa style home with white walls and clay accents reminiscent of the light shades of her hair. The curved arches remind me of her body and there are doors upon doors to let in the fresh sea breeze that Sadie’s always found so soothing when living here on Bluewater Lane. It feels the opposite to Xander’s black mansion and even more starkly different to Max’s purely open concept home. Ours is cozy with character and packed with a surprise.
In the distance, I hear the thud of boxes hitting cement as Xander and Max unload the moving truck full of my things shipped from New York. We also have all the things we kept at Xander’s while we stayed with him during the renovation, but I can’t help but look at all these things as just… things . Instruments and items that I thought brought meaning to a place, but I know better now. I never needed things, I needed a person.
My person .
The girl in my arms with fiery red hair and a sassy mouth who challenges me every single day. And I love her for it.
Before I reach the front door, my eyes snag on Xander, a mean scowl on his face as he glares at a heavy box that’s probably filled with sheet music or scores. He’s been nothing but scowls and grunts since the divorce proceedings with Vivian began. We do what we can to lighten him up, but I’ve noticed he leaves dinners early and can never look at me and Sadie for long. It’s like seeing us in love hurts him somehow and I feel for him. Vivian was his college sweetheart. Too bad all she did was break his heart.
I cast a look at Max, and he waves me off in a gesture that says he’ll handle it. Bless him for handling Xander’s moods. I give him a terse nod and turn my attention back to Sadie. She’s tapping her foot nervously, blindfold still miraculously on, so with a quick kiss to her cheek, I reach around and open the front door to our home and lead her down the hallway.
The smell of fresh paint floods our nostrils instantly. And we only make it a few paces in before she pipes up again. “Jax, this is unfair. I want to see the house!”
“You’ll see it in a moment, Sass.” I grab one of her wrists that’s floating about to try and get a feel for where she is. My hand circles over her delicate wrist and her soft skin against mine shoots a zing straight to my heart. Even after all this time, this woman still gives me butterflies. “Just follow my lead.”
She sighs dramatically, and I hold back my laugh. This girl is always so full of life. And though I started renovations to this home before I was with her, I can’t imagine now ever living here without her. Her light. Her laugh. Her love.
My lark .
“It’s meant to be a surprise, Sadie.” I face us toward the tall white French doors at the end of the hall.
“Who said I liked surprises?”
“Sloane said she threw you a surprise birthday party once, and you didn’t throw your bag at her or run away screaming. So I took my chances.”
“Damnit, Sloane,” she mutters. “Well, what makes you think I’ll like this surprise?”
“Because I know you.”
She huffs indignantly, but still with a playful air.
When we reach the French doors, my heart begins to race. I don’t actually know if she’ll like it, but in my core, something tells me she will. The idea propped up after I’d accompanied her to one of her private violin lessons. I observed her teach violin, watched the patience she had with young students, the vivaciousness she brought to lessons to always instill in them what she never had in herself until recently: that they are good enough. That mistakes are allowed. That practice doesn’t make perfect, but it makes progress . And we reach as far as we can simply by not giving up.
For weeks, I felt like I gave up on myself because my injury meant I couldn’t perform anymore. I felt aimless until one afternoon, Sadie stepped out for a call and I was face-to-face with a young girl who hammered her bow on her strings like cymbals crashing together. I taught her softness and melody. I taught her how to make her violin sing, rather than screech, and when Sadie returned to the room, her eyes glowed. She stayed tucked in the corner where I had sat to watch me continue on with the lesson. When the young girl left, Sadie sprang from her seat, wrapped her arms around me and beamed as she said, “You’re a natural.”
“At what?” I asked, squeezing her to me.
“At teaching.”
Teaching . Little did I know what avenues this would lead me. All I knew was when I looked about the small music room—the popcorn ceiling, scratched up metal music stand and flimsy plastic chair—I knew, just like performing, Sadie deserved a bigger stage. A bigger place to teach. She just didn’t know it yet.
So, this surprise is a new beginning—for us both.
I turn Sadie around so her back rests against the door. Her white teeth nibble on her bottom lip and I step back to admire her for a second. Yellow tank top and denim shorts. Soft white skin. Rosy cheeks to match her crimson hair.
The black blindfold over her eyes.
She tilts her head to the side.
“Is this a guessing game now?” she asks. “Am I meant to pat around and find a key?”
I chuckle. “I was just admiring you, Sass.”
“Can you admire me with this blindfold off?”
“I could.” I lean in to hover my lips over hers. “And then I’ll stuff it in your mouth.”
A shiver passes through her. We both remember that day in New York, which must be why she pulls me in to kiss her, slow and teasing. I groan as my arms wrap around her body, consuming her. Tongue, lips, teeth. This girl is my undoing. And she knows it.
When the door rattles, I’m reminded of why we’re here and I pull apart breathlessly. I press one more soft kiss to her lips before I say, “Are you ready for your surprise?”
She nods, breath shallow with anticipation, hands fisted in my shirt. I wrap my hands over hers to loosen her grip.
“Turn around, Sass.”
Sadie spins before me, her back flush to my chest. I reach one hand to the doorknob while the other goes to the knot at the back of her head. When I twist the door open, a new scent envelops us. Fresh wood. Deep and earthy and a salty sea breeze from an open window. Sadie takes a step in, nose wrinkling as she sniffs the air and with a swift pull, I release the tie.
It’s as if she saw the light of day for the first time as her mouth pops open, hazel eyes scanning the room confused.
I smirk knowingly, because the room is completely empty—for now—bar the grand piano on an elevated stage set before a bay window. Just like in New York.
“What is this?” Sadie whispers. Her lips tremble as they shift between shock and awe and land beseechingly on me.
I take her hand and pull her to me, one arm wrapping around her hip to pinch her to my side as I turn us to face the left wall.
“This—” I point to built-in shelves in the walls, row upon row of them lined up until they reach the window—“is where we store all our music. I asked for the shelves to be the same as in New York. We’ll pack it with scores, sheet music, vinyl, whatever you like. It’s our library.”
Her doe eyes crinkle at the edges, but I spin us to the opposite wall before she can say something.
“Now this—” I wave a hand over the blank white wall—“is where we will display our instruments.”
“But I only have one violin.”
I press my lips to her temple to hide my grin. “For now.”
Her head whips up to me but I distract her with a twirl, then before she knows it, I pull her up to the elevated stage.
“Is this…?” She trails off as I hoist her up on the rounded edge of the grand piano. I stand between her thighs and admire her in the soft sunlight from the window that illuminates her angelically.
I’ll never not be in awe over her beauty.
“My Steinway? Yes. I had them wheel it in this morning while you were asleep.”
“But what is this f?—”
I press a finger to her lips gently to quieten her. “I’m not done.” Her eyes flare, but she nods for me to keep going. I sweep my arm across the open room before us. From the stage, it looks like a ballroom dance floor, which it can be for parties, but what it’s really for is… “This is where all the seating can be.”
“Seating?”
“For recitals and performances. Imagine—” I pull her off the piano and into my arms again, wrapping her legs around my waist. She squeals excitedly as I carry her into the center of the room and when I drop her softly to the ground, I hold her tight and begin swaying, just like that night in Chicago on an empty stage, only now, we dance in what I hope to be our future recital room. “Imagine rows upon rows of seats laid out facing the stage. A pianist and a violinist are there, or maybe a string quartet set up to perform. Whatever and whoever it is, they’re here because of us.”
“Because of us,” she echoes, brows still knit in confusion. Sadie’s eyes glance between the piano, the shelves, the walls, the open space and when they land on me, excitement and nervousness are within their depths. “Why?”
I stop our swaying as I pull out the envelope in my back pocket. “Open it.”
Her hands tremble over the paper as she slides out a hasty, homemade flier that reads:
BLUEWATER MUSIC ACADEMY
founded by
Sadie Love, Concertmaster
for the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra
and
Jaxon Tanner, former Concertmaster
for the New York Symphony Orchestra
And underneath it, was the slogan I’d spent hours agonizing over:
“Home of the next generation of
Concertmasters”
“Jaxon.” Her voice cracks over my name, tears welling in her eyes. “What is this?”
“This is our new beginning… if you want.”
Her mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. I squeeze her arm gently, and she looks up at me, eyes full of tears.
“Before I met you, I was afraid of the end of my career. I thought nothing would become of me but some washed up violinist with broken muscles. In too much pain to perform. Good for nothing.”
“That’s not true!” she defends me in a heartbeat, and I press a kiss to her forehead.
“No, it’s not. Because for three months stuck with you , I learned the most valuable lesson: that a love for our passions can’t be had if we don’t love ourselves first.”
She looks up at me, disbelieving. “Pretty sure you taught me that.”
“Which I learned by teaching you ,” I continue and her eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t ask for you to train with me because you needed my help, Sadie. You’re a born performer and an amazing teacher. What you needed was someone to believe in you. And when I lost myself, you believed in me, too. You showed me a path, a life where I’m not solo anymore. So wherever you perform, I’ll go with you. Wherever you teach, I teach with you. I want to start this school, if you want, because I want to do life with you . I want to start this school for you, with you, because of you.”
I spin her around so her back is flushed to my chest, my chin on her shoulder, cheek pressed to hers as we look out over the open room.
“You have the patience and the perseverance that will inspire a generation, the way you inspired me. And you’re the best partner I could have ever asked for. So, Sadie, will you be my partner again?”
A sob spills from her throat, and the words rush out through watery tears. “I’m always your partner.”
“Good. Because when you’re not kicking ass as Concertmaster, we’re going to teach violin. We’re not just going to be renowned performers, we’re going to be renowned teachers who are going to train the next Concertmasters. And we’re going to do it together. ”
Sadie spins in my grip so rapidly our heads almost clash as her mouth seeks mine for a kiss. And we fall into each other so easily.
No words, only sounds. The sounds of my footsteps as I carry her to the piano. The sounds of our clothes shoved aside—her shorts, my pants—as I sit her on top of me. The sound of dissonant keys from the press of her palms as we ride together in tandem, unfurling in delicious tension as our breaths and moans create songs in the open space.
It strikes me then that I never once thought of loving something more than I loved music and my career… Until Sadie came along.
She came crashing into my world, all fire and sass and where she needed to learn to love herself in music, I needed to learn to love myself outside of it. We fit together in ways we never thought we could, but at the root of it all, no one understands you best than someone who’s trying to be better than you.
But I don’t want to be better anymore, I just want us together.
And as we come apart, I stare into her eyes. I know one thing is for certain—this moment isn’t a finale, it’s the overture to a new beginning. A solo, now a duet, and with her I am complete.