“Yes,” Jamie agreed.
So after dinner, Naomi brought her guitar into the living room and sat on the sofa with the family gathered around her.
She played through the song carefully. Already, she could feel how the melody was beginning to solidify. She was more sure than she had been this afternoon of what came next, of the order the chords belonged in.
There were no words yet, but that didn’t matter. The words always came later. That was the more deliberate part of the songwriting process, the part she actually had to sit down and put serious thought into. It was the music that came to her naturally.
Besides, she didn’t really need the words right now. She already knew what this song was about.
Petr.
She would have expected to write an angry song about him. She would have imagined that the chords would be hard and full of rage, that it would be a song she would need to play standing up to fill it with the proper energy.
She would not have expected to write a ballad about him.
But the truth was that, more than anything else, she just felt sad. Sad that she had been taken in, yes, but also sad at the prospect that none of what they had shared had been real. It had all been so beautiful. To find out now that it had been nothing more than a lie was heartbreaking.
But she couldn’t keep herself from including that hopeful note at the end of the song. She couldn’t help hoping that this story could still have a happy ending.
What Petr said to me might be true. He might have changed. He might have discovered real feelings for me.
If that was the case, it was possible that their experiences together had been real. Maybe they hadn’t been just part of his plan. Maybe he had been just as drawn in by their whirlwind romance as she had, and that was what had made him realize that he really loved her.
Maybe.
Someday, when she was ready, she would talk to him again. She would try to determine the truth.
But not yet. Right now, the most she could do was to write this song and hope that it helped her to process her complex feelings about him so that she would be ready to discuss the matter with him when the time came.
When she finished playing, the family applauded. “Are you going to perform that on stage?” Harry asked.
Naomi frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’re a musician. Musicians give shows, right?”
“I’m not a musician anymore,” she corrected.
“Of course you are.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if he was telling her that she was a human being. “You just wrote that song in a day.”
“I was just playing around,” she said. “It isn’t anything real.”
“Harry’s right,” Sarah said. “That was just as good as the stuff on your album.”
“It doesn’t even have words,” Naomi protested.
“Okay, so it’s not finished. Finish it. And then go play at an open mic night or something. There are plenty of them around here.”
“I can’t do that,” Naomi said, her face getting warm with embarrassment. “Those are for amateur performers.”
Sarah frowned. “There’s lots of talent,” she said. “One of my favorite bars has an open mic night, and some really skilled musicians play there.”
Naomi realized her sister had misunderstood her objection. “I’m not trying to say I’m too good for it,” she explained. “But it’s for people who haven’t had their shot. People who are still trying to be noticed for the first time. It wouldn’t be fair for me to take up their space. I’ve had my chance.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s not how it works,” he said. “Anyone who’s willing to put in the effort deserves a second chance. Just because your first attempt ended, that doesn’t mean you can’t try again.”
“Besides,” Sarah said, “it’s not just about trying to start a career again. I mean, if that happens, that’s great. But Harry’s right. You’re a musician, and musicians should play. Even if a few open mic nights a week are all that ever comes of it…don’t you want to do that, Naomi? Wouldn’t that make you happy?”
Naomi hesitated.
The truth was that the idea of playing for a live audience again was intoxicating. It had been so long since she had stood in front of people, feeding off the energy of the crowd, pouring that energy back out to them in her songs.
She did want to do it. Suddenly, she wanted it more than almost anything.
And she was in New York. What a fun place to start. It wasn’t like Los Angeles, where everyone was clamoring for fame. Here, she thought, she would be among people who performed for the love of their art.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Sarah grinned. “Fantastic,” she said. “We’ll go this weekend. Harry and I will get a babysitter, and we’ll all go together.”
That was a nerve-racking idea. “You’re going to come?”
“Of course,” Sarah said. “I can’t miss my own sister’s return to the stage.”
“And I never pass up on an opportunity to see a famous musician play,” Harry said.
Naomi groaned. “I’m not famous, Harry.”
“You’re a household name,” he said, smiling. “Why, I’ve even got a copy of your CD!”
“You’re married to my sister.”
“Be that as it may.” He laughed.
Naomi stood up. “If I’m going to perform this weekend, I’d better start working on some words for the song,” she said.
She took the guitar up to her room, strummed quietly through the song one more time to finalize the chords in her mind, then sat down with a notebook and began to write.
The theme tying all her past songs together had been stars and other celestial bodies. She had written about moons and galaxies, about the vastness of the universe and the miracle of every chance meeting that happened within it. It was a theme that had always moved her.
But it didn’t feel right to write about that same topic now. This was a new phase in her career—if it was, indeed, a career move, and not just a whim. She was older and wiser now, and she wanted to write something different.
She began by writing a few words down, as she always did. Words that resonated with the way she was feeling. She pulled from her memories of Europe and the beautiful things she had seen. Gelato from Rome. Mountains from Switzerland. Sunset from Barcelona.
Journey. That was a good word. It described not only the trip she had taken, but the way she had gone from feeling trapped in her own life to feeling in control once more.
The next step was to find words that rhymed with the first set. She scribbled down every rhyming word she could think of, though she wasn’t sure which ones she would use. The story had to come together first. Then she would see which words made sense.
She tore out the page of words and set it beside her.
It was time to begin writing the lines of the song.
She closed her eyes. It had been so long since she’d done this, and yet it was all coming back to her so easily. Why had she ever stopped?
She leaned over and added one more word to her page—love.
Then, satisfied that she had put together the collection of words she needed to create the song she wanted, she began to write the story of her romance with Petr Agridis.
Chapter 19
“I should really go home,” Naomi said. “I’ve been here two weeks now. I must be outstaying my welcome.”
“Of course you’re not,” Sarah said, placing a mug of coffee before her. Over the past two weeks, she had learned how Naomi liked her coffee and was now able to prepare it without asking.
Harry, his hands occupied with his omelets, agreed. “You should stay as long as you want to. Give me the opportunity to really get to know my sister-in-law. I’ve hardly spent any time with you since the wedding!”
“Are you bored?” Sarah asked. “Is that the problem? You have been a bit cooped up inside. May
be we should plan some activities. Get out and see the city. I bet I could get tickets for a Broadway show, if there’s something you want to see.”
“No, no,” Naomi protested. “You don’t have to do anything, Sarah. Seriously. I’m not bored. I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“You’re nothing of the sort,” Sarah assured her. “Besides, you enjoyed performing the other night, didn’t you?”
Naomi had enjoyed it. The bar Sarah and Harry had taken her to had been small and intimate, not at all the kind of place she was used to performing in. When she’d played to big arenas, she had felt huge swells of energy from the crowd powering her playing. But she hadn’t felt able to personally engage with the people in her audiences.
At the bar, she had been able to look people in the eye while she was singing. That had been intimidating at first—some of them had stared right at her, making her feel scrutinized, while others had been distracted with conversations with their friends, making her feel ignored.
After a while, though, she had begun to view it as a challenge. She would try to capture an individual’s attention, then sing to them directly until she saw some kind of emotion register on their face. Seeing how many people in the crowd she could affect had been a fun game.
“We’re going to take you to more bars in the city,” Sarah said. “Find you more opportunities to perform. So you really can’t leave yet.”
“There are open mic spots in Los Angeles,” Naomi said. Suddenly, she was imagining Petr singing to her at the Crystal Lounge. Much as she wanted to put him out of her mind, she had never been able to do it, not completely.
“It’s better in New York,” Sarah said firmly. “Besides, you’re too newly back on the horse. If you go home, you might give up on the idea of performing live, and I’m not going to let you do that. You were too good the other night, and when we came home, you were happier than I’ve seen you in years.”
Naomi was surprised her sister had picked up on that. After all, it wasn’t like they had spent much time together over the past few years.
Maybe she’s been paying more attention to me than I realized.
It was a heartwarming idea. She had thought, after the loss of her mother, that she and Sarah would need to build their relationship from the ground up. But being here had given her the opportunity to realize that there was a lot more between them than she had been aware of. They weren’t starting from square one. There was already a very valuable relationship there.
“All right,” Naomi agreed. “I’ll stay a bit longer.”
The truth was that she wanted to stay. She wasn’t at all ready to go back to Los Angeles, to job hunting and lonely days and nights. She wanted to be here, in the warm embrace of a family that loved her.
Harry flipped the omelet he’d been working on onto a plate and set it before Naomi. “You didn’t ask for parsley, but try this anyway,” he said. “I think you’re going to like the way it turned out.”
Naomi took a bite. She smiled. “It’s great, Harry,” she said. “Everything you cook is.”
The doorbell interrupted them. Sarah frowned. “Are we expecting someone?”
“I’m not,” Harry said.
“I’ll get it!” Ella yelled, starting to get up.
Harry pointed at her. “You stay put and eat those eggs. I’ll get it.” He wiped his hands on a towel, turned off the stove, and went down the hall to the front door.
A moment later, he called back to them. “Naomi? It’s for you.”
Naomi frowned. “For me?” she said to Sarah. “How could it be for me?”
“Who even knows you’re here?” Sarah asked.
Naomi shrugged, feeling edgy and nervous. Was it possible someone had followed her home after her performance at the bar the other night? That seemed incredibly farfetched, but she would never forgive herself if she had led some kind of stalker to her sister’s home.
She stepped into the hall—and froze.
Petr was standing in the doorway.
For a moment, her mind couldn’t process what she was seeing. It just didn’t make any sense.
What is he doing here? How did he find me?
“Hi, Naomi,” he said.
“Petr,” she said quietly, her stomach in knots.
“So this is Petr?” Harry asked, frowning.
Naomi nodded.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Harry asked her.
“No, I’ll talk to him,” Naomi said. She was going to have to face him eventually. She hesitated, feeling awkward. “Um, do you want us to go somewhere else? We don’t have to do this here.”
“Of course you’re not going to go somewhere with him,” Sarah said. Naomi turned to see that her sister had followed her out of the kitchen. “You two can speak in the dining room. We’ll get the kids out of your way.”
Naomi nodded. “Thanks,” she said. She turned back to Petr. “I guess you should come in.”
He followed her down the hall and into the dining room. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said as they took seats at the table. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“How did you find me?” she asked. “I didn’t tell anybody where I was going.”
“You mentioned having a sister in New York,” he said. “When I realized your condo was empty, I figured you would have come here.”
“And so what, you’ve just been going door-to-door around Manhattan? That doesn’t explain how you found me.”
“Your sister’s address is listed publicly,” he said. “I found her on social media by searching her maiden name, and that led me to her married name. Then I was able to do a search for her current address, and that was what led me here.”
“You didn’t think of calling first?” Naomi said, trying to understand but really just trying to get used to the fact that he was sitting in her sister’s dining room. “What if I’d refused to see you? You would have wasted a trip.” Was he so confident of her that he hadn’t considered that a possibility?
“The conversation we need to have can’t be conducted over the phone,” Petr said. “I needed to see you in person, to apologize again for the things I’ve done. To let you know how I feel about you.”
So he had come to repeat his declarations of love. Naomi had been trying not to think about this. She felt no closer than she had before to knowing how she felt about him in light of all the new information that had been revealed.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “You lied to me.”
“I know.” Petr sounded agonized and rubbed his face.
“How can I trust you now?”
He hesitated, then reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced a couple of trim-folded pages. He handed them to her.
“What is this?” She unfolded the papers and looked down at them.
“Divorce papers,” he said. “The highlighted paragraph is the part you want to pay attention to. It says that when our marriage is dissolved, neither of us has any claim to the other’s assets. Inheritance is specifically mentioned. See?”
She read the paragraph carefully. He was right.
“If I sign these, we’ll be divorced, and you’ll have no way to access my money?” she said.
“That’s right,” Petr said. “I want you to understand how much you mean to me, Naomi. I want us to have a relationship. To be honest, I want to be married to you. But I want to do it right. I want you to go in fully aware of what you’re agreeing to, and that’s not what happened the first time around. So I want you to sign these papers and undo what’s been done. This is my way of showing you that I’m not after your money. I’ve seen the error of my ways.”
“But if I sign these, things will be over between us,” Naomi said. Despite everything, the idea gave her pause. She didn’t want to separate from him.
She realized right then that she did still love him.
“Things don’t have to be over,” Petr said. “Not by a long shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Divorce me,” he urged. “Let me take back the terrible thing I almost did to you. Let me erase that from our story. And then, when that’s done…marry me again.”
Naomi stared, lost for words.
“We’ll sign a prenup this time,” Petr said. “We’ll have lawyers set everything up for us, so you’ll feel confident that nothing will be taken from you.”
“Petr…” she said and hesitated. She wanted to believe what he was saying. The words were so appealing. But could she really allow herself to trust him? Even now, after everything he had put her through?
She read through the divorce papers again. This much, at least, she could believe in. She picked up the pen he had placed on the table between them. With a pang that felt close to regret, she signed her name on the lines that had been indicated and passed the papers back to him.
“That’s it, then,” Petr said. His voice sounded just as regretful as Naomi felt. “We’re divorced.”
“What do we do now?” she asked him.
“Now you decide if you can forgive me,” he said quietly. “Now you decide if there’s any chance you can love me again. I hope you can, Naomi. I really do. I could search for the rest of my life and never find a woman who makes me feel the way you do.”
Naomi pressed her hands to her cheeks. She knew her emotions must be showing on her face, and much as she would have liked to avoid that, to suppress what she was feeling, there was no way to do so.
“Imagine it,” Petr urged. “Our wedding was beautiful, but imagine doing it again with all our family and friends present. Imagine having your sister there, and her family, and being able to celebrate with them.”
It did sound wonderful. Naomi pictured herself in a white gown—an ornate wedding gown, not the pretty but simple dress she had worn in Barcelona. She pictured dancing with Petr in a ballroom full of people she loved. She imagined meeting his parents, actually becoming a part of his family—a daughter-in-law instead of a mark.
But could she put everything that had happened behind her?
It wouldn’t be fair—not to Petr, and not to herself—to marry him with bitterness or resentment in her heart. If she wasn’t able to move past what had happened, it would hurt them for the rest of their days. She didn’t want that for either one of them. If she couldn’t leave the past behind, she owed it to them both to decline this proposal.
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