Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“B ehind,” I called as I hurried through the kitchen, slipping past the bustling servers and cooks as effortlessly as cutting through water. We were in the middle of dinner service for the Spring Has Sprung fundraiser, so the servers were busy filling up their trays with the plates the cooks laid out. I found my way to the end of the line, dropping my tray on the stainless-steel table, waiting for my turn to load the plates of chicken and vegetables.
I let out a breath, brushing the back of my hand along the side of my neck. “Running smoothly?” I asked Monica, who stood beside me.
If it’d been Paige, she would’ve launched into a whole spiel about how she was, or how her arms ached. She would’ve said something to pop the bubble of tension that came on event days. But it was Monica, and she only nodded.
“How many tables do you have left to serve?”
“I’m on my last one.”
I was too, thankfully. It’d been a long time since Alderton-Du Ponte held a fundraiser as big as their Spring Has Sprung event. Upon the start of the event, I finally understood why Mr. Roberts had been so stressed—the guestlist was massive , at least by normal fundraiser standards. Rhythms of Hope had rolled in with dozens of people, dressed in glittering gowns and sleek black suits. Almost every Alderton-Du Ponte club member showed up as well, filling the ballroom space to near capacity. Which meant that we had a lot of tables to serve meals to.
The cooks set the plates down in front of Monica, and she began loading up her tray. “Have you seen Mrs. Pine?” I asked her.
“Nope.” She glanced over. “I think she’s in the music hall, making sure that’s ready.”
“Something needs to be set up?” We’d done most of the prep work last night.
Monica hefted her tray onto her shoulder. “Aaron Astor’s announcement, remember? They had flowers delivered?”
Last night, Aaron had said he’d ordered the flowers before he’d called things off with Fiona. I frowned. “He didn’t?—”
“Behind!” Monica called as she pulled away from the table, heading out into the ballroom.
When we were hired in Alderton-Du Ponte, one of the first things they taught us was how to balance our serving trays. Full dinner plates like this one, I could only squeeze three onto the tray, and could carry the fourth in the palm of my left hand. I loaded my tray up, waiting for the fourth.
“Here you go, Princess,” the chef said, setting down the last plate in front of me. There’d been no animosity in his tone, but he turned his back before I could check his expression.
Princess , I thought, picking up the plate. It was a ridiculous nickname for a staff member, but it also had me thinking back to where it’d come from.
Caroline had been the first to say it. Four years ago, when I’d first started dating Grant, she’d started it. She’d used it so much that my coworkers picked it up, twisting its intention. Or, perhaps, uncovering its true intention.
I shook my head, heading toward the kitchen’s door. Ridiculous .
The ballroom buzzed with energy, a soft murmur of laughter and conversation mixing with the clatter of plates and knives. Servers moved in and out, offering champagne flutes that sparkled under the chandelier, while a couple of violinists played a gentle, flowing melody in the corner of the room.
As soundless as a ghost, I walked over to my last table and laid the plates down amongst them. No one looked up at me, either, as if their dinner was magically appearing, and not being delivered by a human being.
“…stunning, isn’t it?” one lady was saying, peeking around the ballroom.
A man, presumedly her husband, nodded in response.
A second lady leaned to stretch her hand across the table, and I had to swing her plate back to keep from bumping into her. “Mirabelle, didn’t you say one of the Astor sons would be here tonight? Which is he?”
My gaze flicked up to Mirabelle, not recognizing her as one of the Alderton-Du Ponte elites. She must’ve been here with the charity. “I don’t see him yet,” she murmured, and then, inexplicably, her eyes lifted to lock onto mine. Hers narrowed ever so slightly.
It sent a flutter of panic through me, and I quickly laid the final plate in front of the last guest, turning away before she could accuse me of eavesdropping.
With an empty tray, I should’ve scanned the tables for cleared plates or dirty dishes, but instead, I scanned the heads at the tables, searching for something else. Someone else.
One of the Astor sons .
Anticipation at seeing Aaron had been gnawing at me all day—or, honestly, since last night. When I’d turned around on the stage to find that he’d left, a pit of unease had settled inside me. I’d come into work expectant to see him, but now, with the clock ticking almost two hours since the guests had arrived, Aaron still hadn’t made an appearance.
He wouldn’t skip out on the charity’s Spring Has Sprung fundraiser… Right?
As I scanned the space, my eyes latched onto Mr. Roberts. He stood near the doors, his iPad in his hand, his eyes on me. Even from here, there was no missing his glistening forehead. There was no mistaking the look he shot me. Get back to work .
Right. I needed to clear plates in my section. I needed to focus on that.
I stopped by the Holland table, where all six settings were taken but one. Caroline sat beside Grant, who had a pretty blonde on his other side. I’d seen her when they’d first walked in, and I’d thought I’d feel jealous, worry if she was prettier than me, and that the resentment would be impossible to get past. But none of that had been there. She was pretty, hanging off of Grant’s arm as they breezed into the room, her navy dress flowing behind her. Elegant. Perfect for him.
I did, however, resent her boyfriend a little, who kept giving me puppy dog eyes.
You brought your girlfriend even though you just told me you loved me instead , I thought, making sure not a trace of it showed on my face. Nice .
“He’s so impressive,” Caroline was saying as I stretched around Mr. Holland and picked up his empty dinner plate. I’d served their table first, so most of their dishes were empty now. “A bit too straightforward at times, but very impressive, Dad.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.
I moved to Mrs. Holland, who, thankfully, leaned back into her chair to give me a better reach. “Dear, you should really have a conversation with him,” Mrs. Holland told her husband. “He was sweet as could be when we got lunch. We’ll have to schedule another before he goes back to California.”
My fingertips slipped on the gravy smeared on the corner of Mrs. Holland’s entrée plate, but it thankfully didn’t clatter. Were they talking about Aaron, too? I stacked the plates on my tray, searching for another dish if that meant I could linger a moment longer.
And any suspicions were cleared when Caroline said, “Aaron was telling me he’d love that.” She stared straight at me. “Going out with all of us as a family.”
As a family . She and I hadn’t spoken since Sunday, when she’d come to the apartment unannounced and found me with Aaron. He isn’t going to marry you , we’d both said to each other, and this was her, trying to get under my skin.
“Lovisa?”
Despite being surrounded by people, the last thing I’d expected was for someone to use my name. And the very last person I’d expected to use it was the girl sitting beside Grant.
She was squinting at my nametag. We didn’t have them as a part of our normal uniforms, but for events, it was a requirement. “Yes, miss?” I asked, straightening, trying to ignore the table falling into silence. And the fact that three of the four Hollands were now looking at me, Mrs. Holland obliviously reaching for her napkin.
Grant’s girlfriend tapped the rim of her water glass. “Could I get a refill?”
Her voice was pleasant, high and kind, and I couldn’t help but think she fit in well. She was not like me, doomed to be on the outskirts. She was allowed to be at Grant’s side. It was for the better—she clearly belonged there.
I gave her a real smile. “There should be someone coming around with water, but I’ll make sure they stop at your table first.”
“You can’t do it?” Caroline asked, tilting her head. “You are Alderton-Du Ponte’s Princess, after all. You can’t refill a water?”
There was a teasing quality to her tone, but it was the first time that I truly heard what it covered. My coworkers used the title sarcastically, and though she always pretended to be lighthearted about it, Caroline used it sarcastically, too. I’d never noticed before this moment.
“She’s got other tasks,” Mrs. Holland told her daughter when my silence stretched too long. “Thank you, Lovey. We’ll wait for the waters.”
I ducked my head, gracefully taking my leave despite my throat tight. My tray wasn’t quite filled yet, so I moved onto the next table, gaze on a pivot. I spotted Annalise, who sat at a table with her parents, her sister, Michael, and a man I didn’t recognize, all six of their seats filled. If there hadn’t been a space with them for Aaron, where had he been assigned to sit? I would’ve thought it would’ve been beside Michael.
Something turned in my stomach as I searched for the Flannagan’s table, almost afraid I’d find him there. But, no—both Mr. and Mrs. Flannagan sat with the Chatterboxes, no Aaron in sight. No Fiona, either. I wondered if that meant that she wasn’t coming, or if she was with Aaron at this very moment and they were making up.
He wouldn’t do that , I told myself, drawing in a steadying breath. He wouldn’t go back to her .
I hated that even my thoughts had an air of uncertainty to their voice.
I approached The Chatterbox’s table, locking onto all the empty dishes. “You know them,” Ms. Jennings was saying as I reached for the small stack of dirty appetizer plates she had beside her place setting. “They’re like the Conans. Always need to share big news with everyone who doesn’t care.”
The ladies around the table giggled at her blatant disdain. “Probably the proposal,” Mrs. Wits said, and I nearly knocked into her wineglass as I reached for her cleared dinner plate. “I can’t imagine what else it’d be.”
“It isn’t as if he’s an important presence here.” This time, it was Mrs. Gilmartin. For a wild second, I thought I’d approached yet another table talking about Aaron. “It’d be embarrassing, using the platform at such an event to announce an engagement.”
“Maria Holland just wants the attention, as always, even if it’s for a reason as underwhelming as her son getting engaged.”
Yikes, they were talking about Grant that way? The champagne hadn’t even been poured yet.
There were more dirty dishes to clear, and my tray was full. I couldn’t linger, not without becoming obvious. With my platter supported in my grip, I rounded the tables, making my way toward the kitchen.
But I paused mid-step when my gaze locked on the front of the room.
Aaron walked through the ballroom’s doors, framed by the golden light spilling in from the hallway behind him. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look deliberate, and his sharp jawline was clean-shaven, making him look more like a man who could have stepped out of a magazine. His tailored black suit hugged his frame in a way that made him seem effortlessly put together, yet there was something about him that seemed almost… distant. Like he didn’t belong.
His posture was stiff, more guarded than I had ever seen. Almost like he was here on some sort of mission, not to celebrate the charity’s first fundraiser.
And then, as Aaron scanned, his eyes found mine from across the ballroom. My chest tightened, and even though we were in a room filled with people, for that brief second, it felt like it was only the two of us. Aaron’s lips parted, and last night’s kiss reared up in my memory like a cruel tease.
For a split second, time felt like it had slowed, and everything else in the room faded into the background. My heart skipped in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
This was how I’d pictured it’d be like seeing Grant waltz through the doorway with his girlfriend—or maybe fiancée—on his arm. But when I’d seen Grant, I’d felt nothing. All those butterflies had been reserved for Aaron Astor, taking off in a rush at the sight of him. I wanted to dump my tray on a table and cross the room, to breathe him in, to do something other than watch him from afar.
But someone stepped in front of him and eclipsed him from my vision, severing the connection. The world veered back into focus, the chattering in the room going from silent to loud .
I hurried to the kitchen now, eager to dump the dishes off and steal a moment with Aaron. Now that he was here, the loyalty to the country club and my job grew weaker. Just five minutes—no, just a minute. Just to make sure he was all right, just to hear his voice.
Remember what I told you before about love? I wanted to say to him. You have to choose it. And I choose you .
It might’ve been corny, but it was honest. With Aaron… it was different. I didn’t know him entirely, and yet every moment with him felt so real . So undeniable. Maybe it was crazy and corny and fast, but I couldn’t ignore how he made me feel alive for the first time in five years. I couldn’t walk away from it. Not when it was like this .
I came out of the kitchen doorway without my tray, nearly running into Aaron as he wavered just outside. A small gasp escaped me, because if I thought he was handsome from afar, he was even more dreamlike up close.
Aaron’s expression was neutral, as if he hadn’t completely vanished from the music hall the night before. “Different uniform?”
I glanced down at myself. “For big events, the uniform is all black.” I touched the black apron wrapped around my waist. “It’s classier.”
“You had this one on for Annalise’s wedding.”
I blinked. “I… yeah.” I didn’t realize he’d seen me that night. He’d never said.
Aaron’s eyes traced me lingeringly, and I held perfectly still, letting him. It wasn’t fair that Aaron almost never got to see me outside of my work uniforms, but strangely enough, it made me feel even more seen. Even in my ugly uniform, his eyes roamed me like a physical touch.
He forced himself to look away. “I didn’t want to come,” he murmured, picking at his tie. “The last event I attended in this space didn’t go well.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen tonight.” Unable to fight the urge, I reached up and fixed how his tie sat at his throat. He must’ve done it in a rush; the knot was rumpled, uneven. “Not to you, and not to me.”
“To you?”
“Grant’s here.” My fingers slipped underneath the fabric of the tie at his throat to smooth down his shirt collar. “With his new girlfriend.”
“Shall I spill champagne on him?”
Aaron’s attempt at teasing took some of my tension away. “You and Annalise, that’s your go-to, huh?” I shook my head. “You’ll have to wait until it’s been poured.”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes lightened, just a bit. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.
It was highly inappropriate, what I was doing. A staff member touching a guest. The closer I leaned, the more intoxicating the scent of his cologne on his skin became, making my head heavy. If anyone looked over, I was sure the whispers would’ve spread like wildfire. But I didn’t care, and neither did Aaron. He watched me through the adjustment, not breathing.
His voice dropped to a murmur, almost a plea. “Promise me something.”
Anything , I wanted to say. “Depends on what it is.”
“Promise that you won’t regret things with me.”
My fingers fumbled at his collar, my gaze lifting. A small smile began curving over my lips, because yes . A white flag. I had cracked through the surface last night. He could see my sincerity, and was double checking one last time. “Never.”
Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, something like pain flashing over his expression. And in that second, I had a thought of what if I’m wrong? What if that wasn’t a white flag? What if it was a red one? “Lovisa, I?—”
“Lovey.” As we’d been talking, Grant had gotten up from his table and made his way over, finally through with casting the longing looks my way. The puppy dog eyes were even wider up close. “Can—can I speak with you a moment?”
“Your girlfriend is watching,” Aaron said as I dropped my hands from his tie, his gaze locked on the table Grant had risen from. His voice was far harder than it’d been with me moments ago. “With quite the serious face, might I add.”
Grant ignored Aaron entirely. “Lovey.”
“I’m working,” I told him, glancing around for Mrs. Pine. “I shouldn’t even be talking to either of you.”
“It’s important.”
I didn’t know about that, but I did know that Grant probably wouldn’t leave me alone until he got to say what he wanted.
Aaron caught at my arm, halting me before I could even step away. “It’s okay,” I assured him, reaching down and placing my fingers over his. “Go find Annalise. She’s probably looking for you.”
Aaron watched me for a long moment before dropping his arm.
I didn’t look at Grant as I stepped toward the ballroom’s doorway. I could hear his heavy footsteps follow behind me, and I hoped he at least put a little bit of distance between us, so it wasn’t obvious.
When I stepped into the hallway, I let out a shaking sigh. “Grant,” I began placatingly, closing my eyes, already picturing the conversation. Drawing in a breath, I turned around. “I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from, I?—”
With my eyes closed, I didn’t see him move closer before he slammed into me, all but enveloping me in the forced embrace. With how tall he was, and how short I was, Grant’s arms swallowed me. I’d used to feel so safe in his arms, so at peace, but now, I couldn’t help but compare them to Aaron’s. Grant was big and muscly and wrong —even the cologne at his collar screamed it. Wrong, wrong, wrong .
I wedged my hands between us and shoved him away, and thankfully, he released me without a fight. “What is wrong with you? Are you trying to get me fired?”
“Lovey.” Grant said my name like a prayer, looking as if I’d punched him instead of pushed him off me. He looked like he was about to reach for me, but just opened and closed his palms instead. “Let’s leave Addison together.”
“Grant.” My eyes slipped closed again. “Your girlfriend is literally right inside?—”
“I know you want your mother’s dream house, but—you can’t stay here.”
“Have you been drinking?” I looked at his chaotic figure closer. They were supposed to be saving the champagne for the music hall. “I told you. I told you, I?—”
“It was Caroline.”
I glanced to the ballroom’s doorway behind him, wondering if I should get someone to help him through whatever crisis he was having. “ What was Caroline?”
“The other day when you asked me if I got your friend fired.” Grant’s expression was grim. “It wasn’t me. It was Caroline.”
I stared at him, but I was sure I hadn’t heard him right. “What?”
“I called her that night. I told her I ran into you. Remember? And then she told me about her lunch plans at Pierre’s.”
Caroline had told me she hadn’t gone to Pierre’s, essentially called me a bad friend for believing Grant over her. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask Aaron, but now I wished I had.
“I told her about the elevator,” Grant went on. “How someone stopped it with you two inside. She was the one that reported it to Mr. Roberts.”
“Why would Caroline have gotten Paige fired?” I wasn’t sure they’d ever even spoken to each other.
“Paige was your friend, wasn’t she?”
I didn’t see how the dots he laid out connected. “You’re saying Caroline complained just because Paige is my friend?”
Grant squeezed the side of his neck, releasing a soft sigh. His distress seemed genuine. “Caroline has fun sabotaging things.”
At first, I nearly brushed his words off until it hit me. Fiona’s flowers. Caroline hadn’t outright admitted to it, but her lie had been blatant. She had her moments, but I never would’ve thought she’d stoop so low to sabotage Fiona to try to steal Aaron away. Still, the argument I’d had with her about the flowers had come after Paige was fired. What motive would she have had to report Paige before that?
When did you get so close to Aaron Astor?
Grant had told her about the elevator, about how Paige accidentally locked Aaron and me in it— alone. Surely, Caroline hadn’t gotten Paige fired because of how close I’d gotten to Aaron. Surely not.
Caroline has fun sabotaging things.
“Listen,” I began, shaking my head. “I—I can’t talk about this right now?—”
“She knew about Emily, too.”
“Grant, I don’t know who Emily is.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “My girlfriend.”
“Well, it makes sense for Caroline to know your girlfriend, right?” I tried to sound gentle. “You’ve been dating since?—”
“No, Lovey. Caroline knew about Emily back in September. She’s the one who set you up to catch me.”
That’d been the last thing I expected him to say. “Caroline said she didn’t know about you cheating.”
Now he frowned. “She knew. Emily’s the daughter of one of my dad’s closest friends; he’s the one who set us up. Caroline knew about it. Encouraged it .” He took a step closer to me, and this time, he did reach out for my hand. His fingers were warm as they picked up mine. “She’s the one who told you to come visit me, wasn’t she? A weekend when she knew I was showing Emily around campus.”
I stared at him and his urgency, not quite feeling anything other than my stomach sinking like a stone. Caroline had been the one to tell me to go visit Grant, and specifically pushed for that weekend. If I’d known, as your best friend, I wouldn’t have suggested you go surprise him at college , she’d said.
Why would she have done that, though? What would she have gained from it?
But the revelation Grant shared wasn’t having the effect he was surely hoping for. “Even if she knew,” I said, pushing it all to the side, looking at how his hand captured mine, “it doesn’t change the fact that you were cheating. If anything, if she did know, I should thank her for sending me, shouldn’t I?”
Grant’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t expected me to take that route. Like he’d assumed I’d get angry at Caroline and forget all about the fact that the girl he’d cheated on me with currently sat in the other room. He really never thought anything through. “Emily—it was just a mistake, Lovey. The only reason she’s here now is because my parents invited her, I?—”
“You’ve been with her since we broke up, haven’t you? The last six months?”
He suddenly couldn’t look at me. “Well, I mean, yes, but?—”
“Grant.” There was a note of finality that hung in the air now. I never imagined myself saying it aloud, but I knew I needed to, if only to cut the cord. If this was what Grant needed for a clean break, to move on, I could do it. I could tell him the truth. Despite it all, I curved my fingers around his. “Do you want to know why I started dating you?”
He blinked at the topic change. “You said… you thought I was handsome.”
“I did.” Grant, a year younger, had been the epitome of cute boy . And he’d made me laugh, too, whenever our paths crossed. And for a girl who hadn’t smiled since her mother died, I’d needed those moments. They’d been my lifeline. “But that wasn’t why I agreed to go out with you.”
I’d been working at Alderton-Du Ponte for a year before I finally let Grant convince me to go out on a date. I hadn’t been even remotely near emotionally stable enough to start a relationship. It’d been enough for me to just get a peek of him at work when he came to the country club with his mother. I hadn’t needed anything more than that. I hadn’t wanted anything more than that.
Until a year passed, and I realized just how lonely I was, and how long it took to actually build a savings account.
“I thought you’d buy me my mom’s dream house.” The confession was ugly in the air, but I forced my voice level. “I thought it could be perfect, marrying the rich boy who could buy me the house.”
It hadn’t been the only reason, though. Back then, after a year of being truly on my own, with my mother gone and my high school friends off to college, I couldn’t stand being alone anymore. I couldn’t take it. Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for Grant, I’d needed someone .
But I didn’t tell him that. “I figured if someone found out,” I went on, looking at his hand, “and I got fired for dating a member’s son, it wouldn’t matter, because maybe then you’d even buy it for me out of guilt.”
Grant’s determined expression crumbled into shock.
“Of course, I fell for you over time. We dated for four years, after all. But when we broke up, it took me a while to realize that was what I’d been sadder about. Not that you cheated on me.” I swallowed hard, already resenting myself for having to speak the truth aloud. “But because I wouldn’t have you to buy the house anymore.”
I was painfully aware of how terrible that made me. Maybe finding him cheating was just my karma, exactly what I’d deserved. Even back then, I’d known it was wrong, but it’d been easy to justify. If I could make Grant happy, what did it matter if I didn’t have feelings for him? If it meant I’d be able to get my mother’s dream house, what did my happiness matter? I’d already given up the cello. I’d thought I could give up love, too.
“We were apart for most of our relationship, Grant.” And now, I placed his hand back at his side, letting it go for the final time. “You came home from college three months out of the year. We barely even texted each other at the end. You didn’t… You didn’t even reach out on my mother’s anniversary.”
Grant’s jaw tightened, the realization flashing in his eyes. He couldn’t object to any of that, of course. He couldn’t protest. He’d been the one to pull away first. It was his text messages that’d grown less and less frequent. And it’d been him, in the end, who’d made the decision that doomed us. “You didn’t miss me at all?”
The sad note in his voice almost made me hesitate, but I knew it would be a lie. “Not the way I should’ve.”
Grant stared at me, searching my face for any sign that I’d change my mind. When he found none, his shoulders sagged. I’d been expecting him to get angry, to yell, not to accept the defeat looking like he was about to cry. Then again, the two of us both made mistakes. The reality was a harsh one—Grant had been my safety net, not my love story.
He was the Fiona to my Aaron.
And maybe that was why it bothered me so much, watching Aaron pursue Fiona when she had no idea of his true intentions. All along, I’d seen myself in him in ways I hadn’t wanted to admit to. Aaron and I had always been cut from the same cloth.
After the silence stretched on too long, I ducked my head, brushing past Grant and leaving him behind, returning to work.
The first thing I saw was Aaron standing in front of a man and a woman, nodding along as they spoke. It was the same man and woman from the last table I’d dropped food off at. The woman who narrowed her eyes at me.
And then I noticed Caroline at his side, pressed right up against it, her hand resting delicately on his chest. They looked like a couple in a way that had me stumbling. Caroline has fun sabotaging things. Yeah, no kidding.
Almost as if he could sense me, Aaron looked over at that moment, finding where I stood. And then, lifting his hand into the air, he beckoned me over.
At first, I didn’t move. And then he waved again. Caroline and the couple all turned, searching for the person Aaron was flagging down, but only Caroline knew it was me. Even from here, I could see the way her expression hardened.
I hesitated further before stepping up to the group. Whoever these two were, they were obviously important. They both wore Malstoni, the man in a suit and the woman in an elegant dress. They both looked like they were in their mid-fifties or sixties, with pepper hair and smile lines. The man was tall, with black glasses framing his light eyes. The woman was only a few inches shorter than him, slim, with her makeup beautifully done.
I fought the urge to reach up and make sure no hairs had escaped my professional bun.
“This is Lovisa Hahn,” Aaron introduced warmly. “Lovisa, this is Alfred Vaughn and Mirabelle Serkin. They’re on the acquisitions committee for Rhythms of Hope.”
So not a couple. I was glad I didn’t put my foot in my mouth. “Nice to meet you,” I offered with all the grace Alderton-Du Ponte taught me.
I didn’t think they’d want to shake my hand—I was clearly dressed in catering attire, after all, not glitz and glamour—but Alfred stretched his palm out first. “Lovisa,” he echoed. “A beautiful name, Ms. Hahn.”
Mirabelle took my hand in both of hers next. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” I echoed.
Mirabelle gave me a knowing smile. “This might sound strange, but I was on the cello faculty at Juilliard for many years, and I found your YouTube channel when you were still young, and followed your progress ever since. Lovely Little Virtuoso.” Her eyes reflected the warmth in her expression. “You always played with such fire. Brilliant display of emotion, especially for your age. I was hoping to see your résumé come to us one day.”
My jaw practically fell open, knees turning rubbery. Someone at Julliard knew me? “O-Oh, that’s—” I fumbled over my words. “I’m honored.” And freaking out.
Caroline let out a little breath that sounded like a scoff.
“I was hoping you’d make it tonight, Mirabelle.” Aaron caught my eye. “I was hoping to get the chance to introduce you.”
“Lovey, you should play something for us tonight.” Caroline’s saccharine voice was thick as she leaned even further into Aaron’s side. He stiffened, but didn’t draw away from her. “Or—since you haven’t played in so long, are you out of practice?”
“Oh, we’d be honored to hear you perform,” Alfred mused, reaching up to adjust his dark glasses. “We’ve been hoping for years that you’d return to your YouTube channel. What a treat it’d be to hear you play something live.”
I looked to Aaron, rattled.
Before he had a chance to say anything, mic feedback cut through the ballroom, causing everyone to wince. “—will now proceed to the Du Ponte Music Hall for the second half of our celebration,” Mrs. Conan’s voice scratched out over the speakers, and I turned to where she stood at the front of the room. “Please follow the walkway as we make our way through the club.”
“Caroline, would you mind escorting Mirabelle and Alfred?” Aaron asked her, reaching down and picking her hand off him. He eased it down to her side. “We’ll be with you in a moment, once I excuse Lovisa from her manager.”
Once he excused— ha . No way. No way did he mean what I thought he meant. I actually could’ve laughed aloud, and would’ve, if it weren’t for Mirabelle looking at me so excitedly. Aaron was going to have to march up to them later and apologize, because this was so—this was so ?—
Insane.
The ballroom began filtering out into the hall, ignoring the cater waiter and heir standing at the back of the room. “No,” I said immediately when Aaron turned his attention on me, pulling my hands back as he tried to reach for them. “No, no?—”
“Lovisa—”
“ No . Are you—are you crazy ?” My lungs burned as I raked in breath after breath, feeling like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “I’m not getting up on that stage all by myself and?—”
“Play with me, then,” he insisted, this time effectively capturing my wrists in his hands. He brought them between us, words softening. “You and me. We’ll perform together.”
Terror lit its way through me now, because he seemed so convinced. “Aaron, I can’t . I’m not prepared, I—I don’t have sheet music, I?—”
“Play Elgar’s Concerto, then. You nailed it last night, and you didn’t have sheet music then.”
I had a feeling he was being far too generous using the word nailed . It’d been too fast-paced; I’d poured far more emotion into it than I should’ve. And besides, Elgar’s Concerto held too much weight for me; I couldn’t imagine cracking myself open again to perform it. Especially not with Aaron on the piano to match. Extra especially not with a crowd watching. I finally worked myself up to an audience of one last night, and Aaron thought I could perform in front of all these people? I almost started hyperventilating just thinking about it.
But… I had fantasized about this moment. Performing with Aaron. When I’d heard him play the piano for the first time, I’d almost obsessively imagined what it’d be like to play the cello alongside him, to hear our notes intertwine. This was my chance now, the opportunity to share a stage with him.
My opportunity to return to the stage for real.
Even if there were so many reasons why I shouldn’t… I couldn’t pass it up.
I pulled one wrist free from his grasp, in turn gripping onto his arm. The fabric of his suit jacket crinkled beneath my grip, and I dug my nails in firmer, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise higher in my throat. “Do you know ‘Méditation’ from Tha?s ?”
And in Aaron’s eyes, for the first time since he’d walked into the ballroom, gleamed.