Rhys broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck, his breath hot against her ear. “Like this?”
“Something like that,” Chloe answered breathlessly and buried her head against his shoulder. The kiss was supposed to calm her nerves not make her lose her mind.
She kept her face resting against his chest and tried to steady herself. Rhys ran a hand through her hair. Judging by the speed of his heart pounding against her ear, she figured she wasn’t the only one affected.
“Shall we finish the movie?”
Chloe nodded slowly and stepped away from him. It was the smarter option. Her body might be ready for more, but her mind just wasn’t there yet. She needed more time to be sure of their relationship. After all they had just spent two years apart without so much as a word. People can change after two years. Love can change.
What if this love was only an echo of their feelings from back then? What if she realized too late that she was in love with a memory and not the man? She just couldn’t let herself get hurt again. Chloe needed to be one hundred percent sure before they took the next step.
If there was one thing she was sure of though and that was Rhys sure knew how to kiss. Her legs felt like rubber as she made her way to the sofa. Her lips tingled and she fought the urge to lick them. Had he always kissed like that?
Chloe sat down on the sofa and was grateful for the soft support of the cushions. She felt too weak to stand. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea for them to kiss, because now it was all she could think about. And as far as her nervousness went, it was worse than before.
Rhys sat down next to her. “So are you still nervous?” He asked and leaned in toward her. Chloe leaned away from him as he grabbed the blanket behind her and draped it around her shoulders. “I guess so,” he said with a laugh.
“Let’s just watch the movie okay?” She asked and tried to ignore the sudden warmth in her cheeks. She was making an utter fool of herself. What must he think of her? One minute she’s begging for a kiss and the next she’s shying away from him.
She just needed a good night’s sleep that’s all. That’s probably what was wrong. She hadn’t gotten much rest in the last couple of days ever since she’d been woken up in the middle of the night. That had to be it. Normally she wasn’t this jumpy and crazy.
All Chloe had to do was get through this movie and get home without causing herself anymore embarrassment. So much for a do over. She definitely wished she could rewind this evening and try it again. Then maybe she could have better control over herself.
Chapter Twelve
In the middle of the movie, Rhys glanced over at Chloe. She’d been way too quiet and now he knew why. She was crunched into a tiny ball under the afghan with her head propped up against the arm of the sofa. She was asleep.
Rhys grabbed the DVD remote and pressed paused. She was snoring ever so faintly. Rhys chuckled and wondered if he should wake her up. Then again, he should probably let her sleep. She’d seemed so exhausted this evening. And when he’d driven over to her apartment after rehearsal to pick her up, the first thing he’d noticed was the dark circles beneath her eyes.
Rhys resituated the afghan so that her feet were covered and wondered if she’d been getting enough rest. And if her state of exhaustion may not just be because of him. His coming here had come as a great shock to her. Hell hadn’t he been just as equally shocked when he’d seen her peeking through the door at him? He’d been experiencing his own nights of fitful sleep.
Rhys turned off the TV and contemplated whether or not he should at least carry her up to bed. The bed would be more comfortable, but he didn’t want to take the chance and end up waking her up. She seemed content where she was, so he should just let her be.
Standing up, he did a quick stretch and yawned. He was feeling pretty exhausted himself. Rhys took one last look at Chloe before heading out to the front hall to make sure the door was locked.
Leaving the entry light on, Rhys headed upstairs to his room to sleep. He didn’t know if he would, not with Chloe right downstairs, but he had to try anyway. Rhys had class at ten and couldn’t afford to cancel due to lack of sleep. Then again how could he sleep up here when Chloe was all by herself in the living room?
Rhys changed into a pair of warm flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt before heading back down to the living room. The recliner would be just as comfortable as any bed. This way he wouldn’t have to worry about Chloe. If he felt tired tomorrow, he could always take a nap during his office hours.
****
That night when Chloe dreamed, she dreamed she was back on stage being twirled about in the arms of the evil magician. She was once again the innocent maiden being seduced by dark magic and tainted love.
Fire came to life about the stage surrounding them in intervals where it crackled in its designated pits. It blazed and sizzled, the flames shooting high. The heat so intense it burned the air around them. The flames swirled so close, threatening to destroy them. Yet she wasn’t afraid. It was just part of the show. They had rehearsed it dozens of times.
As the fire burned, casting their dance in a ominous glow, it was the part where Chloe was supposed to fight him off and try to flee the stage. But she had forgotten her cue. Trapped in his arms, she continued to move her body in rhythm with his. They were like water and oil, never mixing but always touching, their bodies fluid and graceful from years of training.
The magician stopped and the fire went out. His Venetian mask, so beautifully decorated, became a demonic shroud glowing in the darkness as he bent his face toward her.
“I forgot my cue.” She whispered to him. Her voice echoed off the walls as if the darkness not only stole the fire but the audience as well.
“C'est bien, ma chère.” His voice was smooth and beautiful in his native French. She always wondered how he could project his voice so clearly, seemly unhindered by the mask. “You’re Earon is here.”
“You’re not angry with me?” Chloe looked about frightened, hoping that the audience did not realize her folly. She danced them back to their beginning marker, “We must start again.”
“Chanter pour moi,” Earon whispered. His words a soft pianississimo as they caressed her ear. “I wish for my petite angel to sing.”
His hand was like silk caressing her cheek. “But we must finish the show.”
“The show is done. Now sing. Sing for me.” His long graceful fingers trailed along her collar bone and she trembled. How easy it would be for those fingers to wrap around her throat squeezing, cutting off her air until she died.
“I don’t want to sing.”
His fingers stroked her throat. “Sing for me. Now.” He grabbed her slender throat and added the tiniest bit of pressure, only enough to establish who was in command.
Chloe nodded and tugged his hand from her throat. She took a step back. Closing her eyes, Chloe inwardly sighed in resigned despair, and opened her mouth to let her celestial voice cascade forth.
It was a song that her mother used to sing to her. It had since become Earon’s favorite. And she sang it for him now. The tune was slow, a lament to an unrequited love. Her voice filled the theatre, sorrowful and ethereal in its beauty bringing Earon to his knees where he wept at her feet.
“Mon ange,” he moaned.
The lights on the stage sprung to life, revealing that the audience had never left. They stared hypnotized. Their eyes focused on Chloe as she sang in a voice so pure in its resonance that it seemed better suited for God instead of man.
Earon’s masked face was pressed against her skirt, his long arms wrapped around her knees. Swaying on her feet, Chloe tried to break his hold, as her voice continued to hold the audience in captivated splendor.
Her song went on and on as if she were a track stuck on repeat. No matter how her brain struggled, she couldn’t stop the music. She stood powerless as her voice betrayed her and the magician wept at her feet.
Gazing out into the audience in panicked embarrassment, her gaze fell on her moth
er who scowled and hurled insults in her direction. Rhys was there too. His smoky eyes gazed up at her in devotion, his hand reaching toward her.
Chloe stepped back from Earon and stretched out her hand. And in that moment Earon rose from the floor and tore his mask away. Expecting there to be another mask underneath as was his fashion, Chloe’s gaze locked on the Earon’s tawny eyes and she screamed at the hideousness of his true face.
It was some time later, as Chloe lay wrapped up in Josie’s afghan that the dream finally ran its course and allowed her to open her eyes. It was early morning. Sunlight spilled through the curtained windows of the living room, casting yellow pools across the floor and sofa.
A dream. It had only been a dream.
Trying to push the nightmare away, Chloe rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up. Apparently Rhys hadn’t bothered to wake her up after she’d fallen asleep. Her cell phone alarm went off and she grabbed it off the coffee table turning it off. She heard the sound of a spring creaking and saw Rhys lounging in the recliner. Had he slept there all night?
Rhys stretched and slowly opened his eyes. He quickly closed them again and grumpily resituated himself. His head was turned toward her with his cheek pressed against the head rest. He seemed so boyish and innocent.
Chloe giggled and Rhys opened his eyes again. He frowned and stretched once more letting his gaze find her.
“Hi.” She said shyly and flexed her cramped legs.
“Hi.” His voice was hoarse from sleep. “What time is it?”
Keeping the blanket pulled tightly around her, it was chilly this morning, Chloe checked her phone. “It’s just a little after eight.”
****
Chloe stayed in the bathroom to dry her hair and put on some makeup. Thank goodness she always kept a small emergency make-up kit in her purse. As she was finishing applying her lipstick, Rhys knocked and poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, I just finished my shower. While you’re finishing up in here, why don’t I go make breakfast?”
He was out the door before she could give a reply. She turned back to the mirror and smiled at the thought of Rhys making her breakfast. Even though it wasn’t a romantic gesture, it still felt that way to her. He’s even stayed in the living room with her. Chloe knew that a bed beat a recliner any day, and the fact that he forewent comfort just so she wouldn’t be alone meant a great deal to her.
When Chloe finally finished in the bathroom, she took one last look at her sweater dress wishing she’d have time to change before class.
She had rehearsal that afternoon and would definitely have to change her outfit by then. She groaned. Heather was bound to have noticed she hadn’t come home last night. Heather would probably be bursting with questions. Maybe she’d be lucky and Heather would be too absorbed with Heather to have noticed Chloe’s absence.
While on the way to the stairs, Chloe passed by an open door and peaked inside. It was Bill’s office, probably Rhys’s while Bill was out of town. It was the perfect place to compose.
There was a desk against one wall, bookcases on the wall opposite the desk, a grand piano in the middle of room in front of a large picture window, and across from the piano was a leather sofa. The room had been painted in shades of brown and black. Had it not been for the piles and piles of papers and books strung about on the desk, sofa, and piano – there were even piles on the floor and even a few papers had spilled into the body of the grand piano – the room would have seemed like an excellent place to relax after a hard day.
Chloe was a bit shocked by the mess. It contrasted heavily with the clean elegance of the rest of the house. This couldn’t be Bill’s mess. Oh no, she was most definitely sure it wasn’t Bill’s. This monstrosity was all Rhys’s.
Seeing the scattered mess should have disgusted her, but it only succeeded in making her smile.
So Rhys was an absentminded slob when it came to his work. It was cute. Perfection was highly overrated anyway. Earon had been a perfectionist, even forcing others – Chloe included – to be just as perfect.
As she took a closer look at some of the rubbish, she saw bits and pieces of music written on composition paper mixed with notebook paper filled with ideas and short reminders like “add a sharp in this stanza” or “tone down the French horn part in this movement”. Among the papers were little scraps of paper and even a receipt or two. She picked up one of a dozen Taco Bell receipts.
He has such bad eating habits, she thought and flipped it over. On the back Rhys had scribbled the words “fugue” and “dissonance in 2nd movement”. She sighed, was that for the piece he was working on now or for something else? She looked at the date on the receipt. It was dated a week ago.
Chloe sat the receipt back where she’d found it and moved to the piano, her eyes scanning the musical score resting above the keys. Curious, she sat down on the leather cushioned stool and began to flip through movements. A song called “Guinevere’s Lament” caught her eye.
Before she knew what she was doing, her fingers were poised on the keys. It was a rocky start, but after the first couple of do overs she was able to get through the beginning without any mistakes.
The song had lyrics scribbled in the margins and she sang the words the way she thought they meant to be sung. It took her no time at all to lose herself in the sadness of the piece as she imagined herself Guinevere having to decide between the young knight who stole her heart and her kingly husband who received all her admiration.
Chloe’s heart beat to the desperate rhythm as her hands and voice sought for answers. How could she go against her king? Even still, how could she deny her heart and pretend that what she felt for Lancelot was just a passing attraction that would fade in time?
Having spent the last few years not so much as humming a tune, her voice poured forth with such brilliant smoothness it was if she had never stopped singing. Her voice sounded just as good as it had when she’d performed on stage. If nothing else, the hiatus – like a fine wine – had only succeeded in maturing her voice. It had only gotten better with the waiting.
****
Rhys was in the kitchen trying to scramble a few eggs while eyeing the bacon sizzling in the other pan. He’d never been much of a cook.
When the toast popped up, he put it on a plate and added two more pieces to the toaster. He went back to the stove where the bacon oil popped and the eggs were turning a light brown. With a curse he moved the eggs off the burner. Putting them on the plate, he did his best to hide the burned parts.
Well, if nothing else, they still had toast and bacon. There was no way he could mess up toast. The bacon, however, was still cooking and left him worried. When exactly should he determine it was cooked enough? How could he even tell? It smelled done, but it still seemed too pliable.
Wasn’t bacon supposed to be stiff and crispy? Hell, he didn’t know. He should have just bought the microwavable kind like he usually did. But when he’d gone shopping, they’d been sold out and he’d been forced to buy regular bacon.
As he looked at the plates, the eggs the color of dirt and the bacon spouting carnation spots, he considered just throwing it all out and serving toast and cereal instead. He couldn’t very well let Chloe see this, let alone eat it. It would probably just make them sick.
He opened the cabinet and was reaching for a trash bag when he heard the music. Sitting the folded plastic on the table, he let the echo of her voice sink down to the vessels in his heart, making him recall the very first time he’d heard that angelic voice.
He’d been curious about the off Broadway show his brother had just agreed to produce, so he’d decided to go check it out. The production had been a show full of music, dance, magic, comedy, and tragedy. Basically, it had it all. It was like Cirque du Soleil but performed by only a handful of people, the lead being Chloe and a gifted masked magician named Earon Tavel.
Earon and Chloe had such a commanding stage presence that the two of them alone had made the show. The story had been about an innocen
t young girl entering into a dark fantasy world where she was slowly corrupted by a dark magician like king, while her true love tried in vain to save her.
Having grown up on Broadway, Rhys had been witness to many wonderful productions, but this show had left him astounded at the sheer discipline and ability of the cast.
The magician’s tricks were never failing. He’d been a master contact juggler. The balls flowed gracefully up and down his hands like a hand flexing in water. Rhys had only seen its like in some Jim Henson movie when he was younger, and even then the movie never came close to what this performer did every night on stage.
Even in rehearsals, of which Rhys had been present on several occasions, the man had not once faltered or dropped the balls. While the rest of the cast sometimes made mistakes, Chloe and the magician were like rocks, formidable and never bending. He recalled one day before opening night, how some of the dancers had complained about their aching feet, but not Chloe. She had continued to perform until her slippers became discolored with blood.
Rhys forgot all about breakfast as he dashed up the stairs to the office. As silently as possible, he opened the door. Chloe was seated at the piano, her tiny fingers gracefully striking the keys as her angelic voice filled the room. Her voice held all the sorrow of the world as Guinevere finally made her choice, and though she chose love over loyalty, there was no happiness in her choice, only regret.
Rhys listened to it all, his eyes never leaving Chloe. His blood stirred and he had a strong urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her sadness away. But he had to stop himself. It wasn’t Chloe who was distraught, but Guinevere. The sorrow that filled Bill’s office was almost too much for him to bear, pretend or not.
He hoped to never witness Chloe in such pain. Surprised by this realization, Rhys stood paralyzed in the doorway long after the song had ended, silently promising himself to never let Chloe be filled with such sorrow.
“Oh,” Chloe said her eyes wide like a doe who had just heard the pop of a rifle when she noticed him standing shirtless in the doorway.
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