Chapter 36 #2
I can’t place where I’ve heard it before, and I lower my phone slowly.
The music shifts into a softer chord that blooms then hovers unresolved.
Leaving a space of openness and waiting.
My eyes shine and recognition dawns within my chest. There’s only one person I know that plays like this.
I turn toward the staircase and begin to climb, the chandelier glittering off the polished wood, guiding me with each step.
The melody lingers again with a familiar cadence, and a collection of feelings floods me all at once. I feel like I’m stepping into that rooftop gallery. I feel like I’ve just stumbled into someone, coffee soaking into me. I feel like someone is looking at me as if I am their horizon.
When I reach the top, the lounge opens up to me, and I turn toward the piano in the center of the room. The final chord hangs unfinished, the last note fades into stillness, and there at the piano, is Gregg.
His head is bowed slightly, and his fingers rest lightly on the keys as if he hasn’t quite let the music go.
The distance to him feels enormous, and at the same time impossibly small.
My phone is still in my hand, the message unsent, and he lifts his head.
Our eyes meet, like two notes that shouldn’t make a harmony.
He smiles as he stands and steps to the side of the piano. “Hello, Love.”
Just like that, and with no hesitation. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
There are too many things to say. Apologies and explanations.
The silence and the fear. They all collide at once and jam in my throat.
But when Gregg takes a step toward me, something inside me decides that words can wait.
I cross the space to him in three strides.
I don’t slow down, I don’t overthink. I simply crash into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face against his chest. He feels like an anchor after being adrift, and he lets out a small laugh mixed with an exhale, and wraps his arms around me.
His arms are solid, and he holds on like he’s been waiting to.
He spreads a hand across my back, his fingers pressing into my jacket as if to confirm I’m real.
I breathe him in again and again, cedar and clean linen, and my body seems to let go of all tension.
I feel him rest his chin lightly against my hair, and neither of us moves.
When I finally pull back just enough to see his face, his eyes are glassy.
Not falling apart, just full, and he searches my face like he’s cataloging any and every change.
I swallow hard, and the words break out. “I’m so sorry.”
Gregg slides a hand into my rain dampened hair and threads his fingers through it slowly, like he’s reacquainting himself. Then cups my face, warm and steady, his thumb brushes along my cheek in soft, deliberate strokes. “I’m sorry, too,” he says quietly without defense or pride.
Our words are truth, and for several seconds, I just look at him. His emerald eyes catch the light brighter than I remember, or maybe I’m seeing them absent of fear, and full of freedom. But they’re still undeniably and beautifully his, and they’re looking back at me like I’m something chosen.
A smile breaks across my face before I can stop it, not that I really want to. “How did you know—” I start breathlessly, half-laughing. “I don’t think I ever told you where we stay as a crew.”
“Oh. Well, erm…” Gregg’s mouth curves into an infuriatingly charming grin. “Julian,” he says smoothly. “He let it slip that he’d met Riley here.”
He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “But don’t worry. I remember your reason, and… I’m not a psycho.”
He winks, and I huff out a laugh. “I don’t know.” I scrutinize playfully. “Did you just decide to hang out at the piano every day until you lured me?”
“Oh, a very tempting theory,” he answers, raising his brow with a serious flare. Then he shakes his head gently, his expression soft. “No. I just followed my heart.”
The words land quiet and certain, and the world narrows to just us. “Life without you,” he says reverently and intimately, “has been like a life without music.” He traces the edge of my jaw. “Simply unbearable.”
My breath catches, and I smile with tenderness.
“I love you,” he says unflinchingly. “With all my heart.”
There’s no audience to perform to. Only the two of us. I raise my hand to his face, my fingers brushing his jawline and feeling the light roughness there. He was real, beyond question. “I love you, too,” I whisper to him. “And I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize—”
He doesn’t let me finish, and his hand slides behind my neck, pulling me in as his mouth crashes into mine. “Just kiss me.”
His lips are warm and certain and achingly familiar, and his kiss is far from tentative and anything but careful. My hands slide up into his hair, gripping slightly, and I settle myself in the reality of him. The world falls away entirely, and I couldn’t care less.