Chapter 39
Connor
Throughout my life, I have relied heavily on charisma to compensate for my shortcomings in other areas. That being said, even I had a hard time charming my way into this. But there’s no obstacle that can prevent me from getting what I want when it comes to him, and I persevered.
The world had become too much for him. No matter how calm Tai pretends to be, I sensed the toll it was taking on him.
After he fell asleep earlier, I kept thinking about what he said about needing to find his center, and the things he does at home when life is too noisy. I was determined to make it happen.
It is quite impressive what name-dropping my boyfriend’s band can accomplish.
“What is this?” Tai breathes as I park. The setting sun has spun the sky into a sheet of black as he looks at me, and the studio lights reflect off his wide eyes.
A laugh escapes from my throat, out of my control. “Pulled a few more strings,” I say with a wink as I kill the engine and climb out of the van. Small spotlights illuminate the sign above the double wooden doors. Abbey Road Studios is printed in simple black lettering.
Tai chokes out a strangled sound as I tug him toward the door. A young woman greets us and leads us to Studio Three, where she gives a quick rundown while Tai studies the space, looking at every single detail.
“We’ve got the room for two hours,” I explain as I take a step forward and pull him into my arms. “You said playing helps empty your mind, and I thought… what better place while we’re in London?”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispers.
I glance down to find tears in his eyes, and press a gentle kiss on his lips. “We’re the best thing that ever happened to each other,” I correct.
He stares at me with so much open emotion in his eyes. “In a world full of uncertainty, you’ve become the one constant in my life.”
I swipe his tears away before they have a chance to fall. “And I always will be, sweetheart. Nothing will ever drag me from your side again.”
He tucks his face into my neck and for a few long minutes, we stand there, content to be wrapped up in each other.
Tai pulls away and turns in a full circle, taking in the studio and locking his eyes on the baby grand piano.
There’s a reverence to his demeanor as he walks over and drags his fingertips across the ivory, almost like he’s in a trance as he sits and tinkers with the keys, getting to know the instrument.
And then, he plays.
Heavy melodies fill the room, the acoustics bouncing the chords in a way that makes everything feel more powerful—more alive.
Tai closes his eyes, a small smile dancing on his lips as the music spills out of him.
The notes rise and fall like breathing, sometimes soft and haunting, other times bold and urgent, carrying an emotion that words could never capture.
He’s beautiful and ethereal in that way he gets when he’s lost in the music.
For over an hour, neither of us speaks as he pours his heart into the keys, and I’m content to sit and watch him in his element.
It’s forbidden, almost—like glimpsing something sacred that I’m not meant to see.
The sound wraps around me, sinking into my chest and settling somewhere deep, making my heart feel too big for my ribs.
Every note seems to say what Tai has been carrying inside him.
The loneliness, the pressure, the quiet strength he hides from the world.
He’s telling his story in the best way he knows how, and I feel every word disguised as a note.
When the final chord fades and the room falls into a gentle silence, Tai opens his eyes and looks at me, a little shy and openly vulnerable.
“Sorry,” he says softly. “I got lost in it.”
“Don’t apologize,” I murmur, standing and walking over to him.
I slide my arms around his shoulders from behind, resting my chin gently on the top of his head.
“That was incredible. There’s something about the way you play that makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
It’s like the music is reaching straight into my chest and rearranging everything inside. ”
“That’s awfully poetic for a boxer,” he teases before leaning back into my chest with a quiet sigh. “Sometimes the piano says what I can’t. It’s easier than trying to explain it with words.”
I press a kiss to his hair. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I just want to listen—however you need to say it.”
We stay like that for a moment, the echo of the music still lingering in the air between us. Finally, Tai tilts his head back to look at me. “Thank you for this. For bringing me here. It felt like coming home, as ridiculous as that sounds.”
I smile, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “It’s not ridiculous, sweetheart. You ready to head back, or do you want to play a little more?”
He glances at the piano one last time, then at the clock, before he shakes his head with a small, content smile. “We only have a few minutes left, and I don’t want to rush. Let’s go. I want to be with you, no keys between us.”
I help him up, keeping his hand in mine as we head toward the door. “You know, I could get used to hearing you play like that every day.”
“You say that now,” he says with a soft laugh. “One time, I was obsessed with this melody that I couldn’t get right, and I swear I played the same thirty seconds on repeat for a solid week until I figured it out. A year from now, you’ll probably be sick of hearing it.”
“A year from now I’ll just love you even more,” I counter, tugging him closer until our shoulders brush. “Noise and all. I can picture it now—a worn spot in the carpet under the piano bench where you’ve spent so much time on the pedals.”
He lifts a brow as we walk through the hallway to approach the lobby. “You have a piano?”
I wink. “Not yet.”
“Oh, my god,” he says with a surprised, breathy laugh. “You’re such a smooth talker.”
“Guilty.”
The same woman waits at the front desk, and I flash her my widest smile. “You’ve been such an amazing help.”
“Really,” Tai interjects, gesturing around the room. “Thank you. I was having a tough day, and this… well. This turned everything around.”
She swoons, her palm landing over her heart. “You two are the sweetest. I’m glad it helped.”
My hand lands on Tai’s lower back and flexes, and he just barely tilts his face in my direction. We’re two planets, drawn into each other’s orbit, affected by this gravity no matter what we do. Circling each other, drawing closer and closer, until the unavoidable collision.
I think about the resort and the days we were first getting to know each other. The days before we had any idea what we could be. Both of us fought it, but Tai was right.
It was in vain.
We were inevitable.