Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Halfway through Ada’s jazz set the following evening, Nick Willis entered the club.
Ada was on stage, gripping the microphone with both hands, listening hard to Marilyn on the keys and Jeff on the drums, her heart spinning like a top as she finished out the song.
But when Nick’s eyes connected with hers over the heads of the other audience members, her knees weakened.
She thought she might fall off the stage.
After they finished the last song, Marilyn winked at Ada and whispered, “That was one of your better gigs, lady. You killed it.”
Ada had that floaty feeling she’d always gotten after opera performances. She knew she’d done well.
Ada retreated from the stage to drink a glass of water in the back and watch as the saxophonist Randy mounted the steps and began to play.
She felt Nick out there, waiting for her.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
She remembered what Hilary Salt had told her last night, after she’d confessed the story of Nick’s letters and what she felt about him.
“Let yourself fall into a new story,” Hilary had said. “You owe it to yourself.”
Now, Ada walked into the dimly lit jazz club and right up to Nick’s table.
Surprised, Nick shot to his feet. He looked too nervous to smile.
He was wearing a black button-down and a pair of black jeans, and his hair was shaggy and dramatic, as though he’d spent all day on a sailboat.
Maybe he had. Perhaps that was a future that he and Ada could enjoy together.
“Can I sit down?” Ada asked. She exuded a calm and mysterious aura, much like a vixen in a movie set in a nightclub. Of course, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
She ordered a glass of wine for herself, and Nick continued to nurse his beer.
“I’m speechless,” Nick said finally. “You were incredible.”
Ada smiled. “Your poetry is incredible.”
Nick’s eyes fell to his beer. For a moment, they listened to the saxophonist, howling on stage, before it quieted to a softer rhythm.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ada said.
Nick laughed. “I lied to you.”
“What?” Ada’s pulse quickened.
“It wasn’t totally Carleigh’s idea to come back here,” Nick said. “I wanted to come. I wanted to see you.” He paused, then touched the back of his neck. “I was curious. Too curious to pass up a visit. Do you wish I hadn’t come?”
Ada was surprised at how earnest her answer felt. “No. Not at all.”
Nick smiled and sipped his beer. “It’s been two years.”
“It has. But I’m not a therapist anymore anyway. Maybe all the rules fly out the window.”
“Is that true?” Nick raised his eyebrow.
It occurred to Ada that there was so much she didn’t know about this brand-new version of Nick yet.
She knew about the version who’d lost his wife, who’d wanted to build himself up and find a new story.
But now, there was no longer this patient-therapist relationship. He was different. She was different.
“How long will you be here?” Ada asked because she wanted to manage her expectations.
Nick cocked his head. “I think I’ve seen everything there is to see around the world. Just about, anyway.”
“It seemed that way to me, too.”
“But something happens when you travel too much,” Nick said. “Nothing feels real anymore.” He leaned forward in his chair and looked Ada in the eye. “I’m interested in building something real.”
Ada’s heart throbbed. She put her hands on the table and leaned closer to him.
She could smell his cologne and the ocean spray in his hair.
She remembered the early days with Peter, how easy it had been to resist him because her opera life had been so provocative and alive.
She didn’t feel that Nick was easy to resist. It was like he’d been written perfectly for her next chapter. She decided to let herself fall.