Chapter 19
Ever
We climb the stairs of the Warwick Avenue tube station and I squint as my eyes adjust to the brightness of the sun. It feels like every Londoner has decided to skip work and school to come out and enjoy the near seventy-degree weather.
Once we hit the sidewalk, Dmitri takes my hand, leading me across the street. “This way.” I gladly follow him, and he points out the shamrock green Cadman shelter. “There are only thirteen in the city.”
“That’s cool. I think I read they’re protected?” With little more than a passing glance at the church on the corner, I follow Dmitri down Warwick Avenue.
We skirt around a group of parents pushing strollers. “Did you also read why they were built?”
“So cabbies could water their horses back when cabs were horse-drawn carriages.”
A trio of older women giggling like school girls passes us and we scoot to the side as a man walking a huffing bulldog barrels by. Dmitri chuckles. “Because the cabbies would go to the pubs to water their horses, and the pub owners told them they had to buy a pint if their horses were drinking.”
I laugh. “So, the cab drivers were getting wasted?”
“Yep.”
“That’s fantastic,” I say, lifting my face to the sun. “I can’t believe how nice the weather is.”
The short walk only takes us about five minutes. “When I saw the forecast, I thought of this immediately.” Dmitri leads us down a set of concrete stairs. He glances over his shoulder, his mouth split wide and his teeth gleaming at me.
The energy bouncing off him since we arrived in London yesterday morning has been nothing short of excitement.
I thought it might be because of his audition, but every time I catch him looking at me, it’s like he’s in awe that I’m here with him.
And I’m not gonna lie, I like being that person.
I like being his person. It heats my blood and fills my chest with a wave of warmth, even though I know this is for the short term.
No matter what either of us says and no matter what either of us wants, he’s going to get the job. It’s one thing to do long distance when it’s Philly to Vermont. It’s another when it’s London. I can’t even begin to think how that would work. We won’t even be in the same time zone.
Melancholy threatens to blanket me at the thought of not seeing and speaking to Dmitri every day.
Of not seeing his smile or feeling his slow, even breath on the back of my neck as he drifts off to sleep, but I push it away, determined to enjoy our time together.
I refuse to let any of that dampen this time I have with him now.
I mentally shake off my gloomy thoughts as we pause at the black wrought-iron fence and take in the scene.
Trees blooming and colorful barges line the canal.
Behind us, a restaurant with outdoor seating is busy with patrons.
Dmitri tugs on my hand and we stroll along the path.
We wind our way up a long ramp until we reach a bridge.
Dmitri stops in the middle, looking over the canal.
Fluffy white clouds dot the blue sky, and trees already lush with leaves stand guard over the water.
Barges of varying sizes and colors line each side of the canal.
On the other side of the path are what look like residences.
He rests his forearms on the railing and inhales deeply. “I always feel like I’m being transported to somewhere else when I’m here.” He points left, then to the right. “The barges on the left are permanently moored and the ones on the right are allowed to stay for two weeks, I think.”
“What do they do then?” We leave the bridge, following the path back onto the street, then pick up the towpath along the canal again, enjoying the scenery and peace that only seems to come when you’re away and have nothing pressing to get back to.
Not that Dmitri has nothing pressing. His audition is Tuesday morning, and everyone who makes the first cut returns on Wednesday for the final round of auditions.
“I’ve been told they move along the canal mooring for two weeks at a time, all the way to the north of England.” We pass under a bridge, the shaded area refreshing as we follow the water. Dmitri so close, our shoulders brush together with every step.
A pair of birds flutters above us, squawking as one chases the other.
The top branches of the trees wave as a subtle breeze washes through them.
Streaks of sunlight beam through the leaves, creating intricate designs on the pathway.
The blue of the sky lies out over us, welcoming Londoners to linger.
My steps sync with Dmitri’s and I slip my arm through his. “This is lovely.”
“It is.” He places his hand over mine, resting on his biceps, of which I may or may not be copping a feel. My mouth waters at the memory of waking him this morning with my tongue, lapping him up.
We continue our walk at a leisurely pace.
Dmitri points out the little gardens of the permanently moored barges and explains that the towpath on that side of the canal is closed off to the rest of us because it makes up the “backyards” of the permanently moored homes.
A barge filled with waving tourists chugs down the middle of the canal and we wave back to them.
Atop a red resident barge sits a man in a deck chair reading a book.
The air is warm, but the breeze keeps it from getting too hot, and a companionable silence descends on us as we take in the scenery and enjoy the afternoon.
Even though we arrived at eight in the morning yesterday and managed to stay awake until we finally crashed at seven last night, my body still wants to curl up and take a nap. I don’t know how Dmitri will be up to audition on Tuesday.
“You know you don’t have to play tour director for me. I’d be happy to hang out in the hotel and listen to you practice.” I let my body sag against him slightly, knowing he’ll support me. It’s a strange thought considering we’ve only known each other a short time, but it rings true.
He steers us around a little person bent over in the middle of the path with a magnifying glass to her eye, excitedly showing her adult something, and seems to tighten his hold on me. “I’d rather wander around London with you.”
I lift my head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Are you nervous?”
“About what?” He points to a golden retriever pacing the stern of a barge as he barks at something pink floating in the water.
A man emerges, peers over the edge, pats the dog's head, and reaches for a skimmer with a long handle.
He scoops up the pink object, then tosses it in the air at the dog.
Tail wagging, the dog catches it and the squeak floats across the canal to us. “Must happen a lot.”
We watch the man hang the skimmer on the side of the barge before he and the dog disappear inside. “About your audition. Are you nervous?”
Dmitri doesn’t answer right away, staring into the distance as if he’s considering the question. Or maybe the answer. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” I bump his hip. “How can you not be nervous about auditioning for concertmaster? Of the London Symphony.” I can’t fathom not being anxious about performing at that level.
Sure, I know this is his career, and he grew up around world-class musicians—Yo-Yo Ma used to come to his house for dinner when Dmitri was a kid for crying out loud—but concertmaster… Just, wow.
Gaze on the path before us, he takes a deep breath. “I’m still not sure I want London, an orchestra gig, the pressure of it all. I don’t think I would have considered auditioning were it not for Elora.”
“Elora Yarrow, the conductor?” It’s hard to wrap my head around someone being on a first-name basis with a conductor as distinguished as Elora Yarrow, but this is Dmitri’s life.
“Yeah. She’s easily the best conductor I’ve worked with.
But more than that, she’s a lovely human being.
” He sucks in a breath, then blows it out in a rush, staring at the sky.
“Instead of making assumptions and listening to the rumor mill when I left the Philly Orch, she called to check on me. She wanted to know if I was okay, physically, emotionally, mentally, even though she was unaware of my relationship with Sebastian. And I know she’s behind the invitation here. ”
I know he’s felt lost, that he’s not sure what his next move is professionally, but I thought that was more because he wasn’t currently with an orchestra. “Do you know what you’d do if you weren’t with an orchestra?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve really enjoyed working with kids.
The time I spent in Brazil was more fulfilling than the last two or three seasons in Philly.
And I can say the same about my Maplewood students.
Playing with the quartets has been fun. Chamber music has always been my favorite, and working with Rio is like exercising a different part of my brain.
And the idea of helping with a youth orchestra…
” He shakes his head, his expression glowing. “I’d love to be a part of that.”
We climb a short flight of stairs until we’re at street level. The trees grow from the middle of the sidewalk, so we have to squeeze between them and the gated area single file.
“Is that something you’d want long-term?
Wouldn’t you get bored? Or maybe feel unfulfilled professionally?
” I push aside my own desires because he needs someone to help him think through his options, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling breathless at the possibility of him wanting to stay in Maplewood.
Adding my expectations to his shoulders is the last thing he needs.
Maybe I should reach out to Naloni and suggest they back off, so Dmitri doesn’t feel pressured.
On the other side of the street, large white residences look out majestically over the canal, and I wonder who lives in these massive homes.
“That’s the thing. I can’t parse out what I want from what I should want.” His fingers wrap around my wrist and he tugs me closer, like he’s afraid we’ll get separated. “But I do know that I’ve never felt as free or relaxed as I have in Maplewood.”
“That’s what vacations are for.” The words are like sawdust in my throat.
But I need to remind myself that being here, in London with Dmitri, is simply an extension of a vacation from real life for both of us.
Eventually, we’ll need to face reality. And even if he wants to stay in Maplewood, the real opportunities for his career are elsewhere.
I drum my fingers on my collarbone but the pounding in my chest doesn’t cease.
He stops at the end of the street, pulling me out of the way of other pedestrians.
I only realize I’m frowning when the slight callus of his fingertip after years of playing a string instrument brushes the corner of my mouth.
My gaze meets his and I find him looking at me with such reverence my lips turn up automatically.
I want to drop to my knees and beg him to stay in Maplewood.
To stay with me. But there is no way I will emotionally manipulate him like his dickhead ex did.
Dmitri deserves more. He deserves better.
He trails his thumb over the curve of my mouth, his own lips stretching in a soft smile that’s enough to melt me into a puddle of mush on the spot.
“I’ve traveled all over the world. But I’ve never felt about any of those places the way I feel about Maplewood.
And I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. ”
His voice is low, quiet, but I hear every word over the sounds of the bustling city and my throat goes dry. With the way he’s holding me in his gaze, a part of me wants to believe we’ll last. But there’s another part that screams it is wishful thinking.
He holds my gaze for one long moment, like he’s searching for something.
I open my mouth to inquire what he’s thinking, but before I have the chance, he flashes me one of his brilliant smiles, then presses his lips to mine in a quick, firm kiss.
“C’mon. There’s a restaurant this way. If we’re lucky, we can sit outside on the bridge overlooking the canal. ”
“While we sip wine?” I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he didn’t voice his thoughts.
“But of course, love. Only the best for you.”
I laugh at his terrible British accent, but hiccup at his use of love . It’s a joke, I know. But deep in my core, I want it to be true.