The Maestro

  I didn’t know what Kieran and I were to each other, and I wouldn’t figure it out talking to my mom and sister. When they’d first seen me fixating on Kieran without any indication that he had feelings for me in return, they’d blamed him. But they shouldn’t. Not when I was the one who fell for him.

  They’d never met Kieran either. My parents had come to New York once to see a symphony performance, but Kieran had been with his then-girlfriend and hadn’t said anything to me, or them, after the performance. I hadn’t told him they were coming, and the crowd usually mobbed him after a show, but still, it’d stung that he hadn’t noticed I’d brought guests and made time for them.

  I’d tried to pretend it hadn’t bothered me, but at that point, my father had started to dislike him, and I wasn’t sure how I could win my father over.

  “You should move home,” Julia said. “There’re music jobs at schools around here, and I’ll have Tom introduce you to some of his friends. You might hit it off with one of them.”

  I pulled the elastic from my wrist to put my hair up. “That’s nice of you. I’ll think about it.” I turned the conversation to Julia and her baby preparations. It derailed her from talking more about Kieran and setting me up with her husband’s friends, and my mother returned to rolling out and cutting dough into Christmas shapes.

  Something knowing glinted in my mom’s eyes, though. A combination of worry and curiosity about Kieran and me.

  * * *

  I woke late on Christmas Day, not having a reason to spring out of bed too early.

  The first one awake, I started coffee in the kitchen. Sleeping in a temperature-controlled room without the heat blasting meant a night of solid, deep rest.

  I shook off my unease at not having spoken to Kieran and focused on having time with my family.

  My mom shuffled in a few minutes later and started breakfast, my father taking over after he’d showered and dressed.

  Julia and Tom came around eleven, carrying overflowing bags of gifts.

  We exchanged packages, sweaters, blankets, tea, and books. We weren’t a boring family, but we knew each other well. My sister had given me a sweater with a music note crocheted onto the front, and I loved the nerdy chicness of it.

  After my mom set out more food, I put on my music-note sweater and took Pork Chop for a walk. As he was only about a foot tall, his stubby legs didn’t handle ice well, but he’d been cooped up all morning and paced by the back door in protest. I warned him it was cold and damp outside, but he didn’t care. He knew I’d carry him home if he got too cold.

  The sidewalks were clear, but snow had fallen overnight and had dusted cars, trees, and mailboxes. The quiet settled around us as we walked, the silence broken only by the click of Pork Chop’s nails on the sidewalk and my boots scuffing behind him. I imagined a happy family inside every house we passed, opening gifts, playing with new toys, or maybe cuddled together with hot chocolate by the fire.

  My parents were expecting friends later in the afternoon for an early dinner. I thought about sending Kieran a text. Just Merry Christmas, but I should wait to see if he messaged me first.

  Was he thinking of me? What was he doing today?

  I wore his ring on my finger beneath my glove, and I loved the closeness I felt for him, even when I was in New Jersey and he was in New York.

  The orchestra had a Christmas morning performance in the city, which was tough for some of the players, but it ended by nine and then they were free to spend the day with their families. Kieran had dozens of invitations every year to parties and dinners. He had to choose where he wanted to be and who he wanted to be with.

  We’d never spent Christmas Day together. I visited my family and he stayed in New York. In years past, I’d hurried home to be with him in the evenings. But not this year.

  I wanted to stay with my family and leave tomorrow when and if I wanted. Though I was on a tight budget, I wanted to buy a few new things for our European trip. It dawned on me for the first time that a man might see my lingerie, so I should make an effort to have it match. Or at least throw out the embarrassingly old stuff.

  When Pork Chop and I returned home, there were two cars in the driveway, dark sedans similar to the cars my parents drove. Their friends had arrived. I hoped there wouldn’t be too many questions about my love life. “Are you dating anyone?” ranked as the worst question, not because I minded answering, but because when I answered in the negative, the reaction was patronizing. “Too bad. You’ll meet someone one day.”

  Like it mattered that I was alone. I think it made everyone else more uncomfortable than it did me.

  I dried Pork Chop’s paws on the towel my parents kept by the door for that purpose. I hung my coat and wished I hadn’t worn a hat. My staticky hair sprang up around my head and pressed flat to my head, an odd combination. Pork Chop trotted into the dining room to lie by the air vent he liked, his brown-and-white butt swishing side to side.

  I tugged off my boots next and wished I’d remembered to bring a pair of slippers.

  The hardwood floors were cold, and the heater competed with the drafty windows. I stuffed my gloves into my jacket pockets. For fun, I switched my ring from my right hand to the left and pretended I was married. And, since I was living in a fantasy world, that I was married to Kieran.

  In New Jersey, I could pretend whatever I wanted. No one would see me or judge. I don’t think anyone in my family had even noticed the ring.

  I strode toward the family room, where my parents usually entertained. From the hallway, I saw Julia sat with Tom in an oversized plush chair. Even after three years of marriage, they seemed happy together and affectionate without being gross about it. Tom had his red dress shirt rolled up his forearms, revealing his military tattoo, something he and my father had in common and which my father liked about him. They’d bonded over their war stories.

  Julia stared at me, her eyes wide, and she awkwardly stood. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  “It’s okay,” I said, moving past her. “I wiped Pork Chop’s paws.”

  I turned the corner and sitting in the family room were my parents…and Kieran. And two of my parents’ friends, whose names escaped me at that moment.

  Kieran.

  He stood and his dark gaze slammed into me. He wore gray wool trousers that accented the leanness and length of his lower body and a black button-down that pulled at the shoulders with a white cashmere scarf draped around his neck that fell to his waistband. I’d inventoried his gifts last year and the cashmere scarf had been among them, a luxury present from an emir of some country.

  Kieran’s dark hair tumbled to the tops of his ears, and his lips, full and masculine, were parted. My breath backed up in my lungs as the memory of his hands on my body simmered in my blood.

  “Rae.” Kieran crossed the room to me and took my cold hands in his warm ones, then kissed my cheeks, which were heated. His thumb moved over the ring on my left hand, and I pretended not to be embarrassed that I wore it like a wedding band or that the entire room stared at us.

  Everyone was probably trying to analyze what was going on even more than I was.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Your friend showed up unexpectedly,” my mother said, and worried her lower lip.

  My father grunted and glared in our direction.

  “I wanted to see you on Christmas,” Kieran said.

  I tried to smooth my hair, and the more I did, the more I could feel it sparking out of control. “You could’ve called.”

  “I came on impulse,” he said.

  “The impulse to drive three hours?” I asked.

  Kieran turned to face my family. “I wanted to wish Rae a Merry Christmas. She made my Christmas better by treating me to a concert by her students. I won’t overstay my welcome. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  My father and Julia glowered at him, and my parents’ friends stared, their mouths agape. Did they recognize him? My mother watched him
with interest, probably hoping this meant we’d evolved in our relationship, we were in love, and him showing up counted as a sign of his great abiding commitment to me.

  “Don’t go. You just arrived,” I said. He’d made me welcome in his home plenty of times. He could stay and have fun with us. Our family fun might be more demure than his fun, but Kieran was cool. He didn’t need to be entertained.

  “You’re welcome to stay, Kieran,” my mother said.

  Kieran glanced at me, and I was surprised he didn’t jump on her offer. “If you’d excuse us for a minute.” He took my hand and led me into the hallway.

  My dad shouted, “Not in the bedroom. Do not go in the bedroom to talk. That’s for married people.”

  He sounded so grumpy, it took effort to hide my smile. “No one’s going into the bedroom, Dad.” I led Kieran farther down the hallway, close to the bedrooms but not in the bedrooms. “Why are you here? Did something bad happen?”

  He slid his hand around the back of my neck, and his thumb massaged my cheek. “I missed you.”

  “It’s been two days. We were apart longer than that after I started my new job.” When I spoke the words, guilt stabbed me, and I shoved it out. I hadn’t been disloyal. I’d been in survival mode.

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t remind me, and also, that wasn’t a holiday.”

  “We never spend Christmas together,” I said, grabbing his wrist, wanting to hold him to me and not trusting myself to keep control.

  “Not the whole day, but it’s different this year. I didn’t know how long you’d be gone.” He pushed my shoulders gently and took a step toward me until my back pressed against the wall.

  He lowered his mouth and kissed me slow and sweet. I wanted to moan, but my dad had ears like a rabbit and would come tearing around the corner if I did. I couldn’t get enough of Kieran. I lifted my hips into him and returned the kiss with equal fervor and passion.

  “We can’t do anything here,” I whispered.

  He stepped away. “I didn’t come to kiss you, but I’ve thought about it. I came to talk to you.”

  “You could’ve called,” I said.

  He wrapped his arms fully around me. “The phone is worthless.”

  I laughed. “Did you lose your phone?”

  “Yes. Because I never use it.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs as excitement quivered through me. “Do you want to stay?” I asked, wanting the answer to be yes.

  “If you’re okay with it, and if you can tell me why your father’s angry at me. Because I’m a man, or because you told them I’ve done something?”

  I set my hand on his hard chest, hoping it’d soften the blow. “Once, they came to see a concert in New York, and you didn’t speak to them.”

  Confusion clouded his eyes. “They came to see my concert?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you introduce them to me?”

  I stroked his chest in a slow, soothing motion. “You were dating the countess at the time.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “I hated it, and I was mad and tried to stay away.”

  He frowned. “Then they think I’m rude and a little arrogant and pompous. I’ll try to fix this.”

  “By doing what?” Keeping control of the situation and not letting this get worse ranked high on my list of Christmas must-haves.

  “I’ll win them over. You’ll see.” He winked.

  He took my hand and led me back to the living room and sat with me next to him on the couch. At my father’s pointed gaze, I shifted, putting six inches between Kieran and me.

  Conversation flowed, and after several minutes, Kieran had everyone eating out of his hand, except my dad. He watched us stonily.

  My mother and her friend went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Julia went to do some stretching. That left me, my father, Kieran and Tom and my dad’s friend John. His name had come back to me once I’d calmed down. He and my father had served in the Marine Corps together and had similar haircuts and dress style: gray T-shirt and cargo jeans. Whereas John had gone bald, shaving his hair in an attempt to hide it, my father’s full head of hair had gone stark white and stuck out around his head like a Christmas starburst.

  “I don’t like you,” my father said to Kieran.

  “Dad, please, that’s rude and you don’t know each other,” I said. “You need to get to know each other.”

  He aimed an accusing finger at Kieran. “I know what I need to do. Tom did the right thing with Julia. They’re married, and they’re having a baby. But what can I say about you?”

  John smirked. He’d grown up with my father, and as they were lifelong friends, he probably agreed, although I doubt he was aware of who Kieran was to me.

  “It’s not appropriate to make Kieran uncomfortable,” I said.

  My father waved me off. Kieran didn’t flinch, and he didn’t appear angry or defensive.

  “Let me speak my mind,” my father said.

  “Please do,” Kieran said. He leaned toward my father, setting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together.

  “I don’t like you because you’re hurting my baby girl. I see it. You work her too much. You want too much from her. But what do you give her? She’s a special woman. She has a lot of talent. I want her to be happy and married. You can’t give her those things.”

  The urge to dive behind the couch crashed over me, and my cheeks burned. I could speak for myself, and I was making my dreams come true in my own time.

  “Rae left my employ, I suspect, because she’s too talented to be my assistant without having something of her own. I’m a terrible boss.”

  “Then that’s it? You’re not her boss anymore? You aren’t sleeping with her, trying to get her hopes up about a future to then leave her for some flute player? Or some harpy who plays the violin?” my dad demanded.

  Where my father got his ideas, I couldn’t say. “Kieran and I are friends.” While my father wouldn’t be thrilled with our bedroom activities, I wouldn’t mention that.

  “Mr. Davis, I’m not interested in hurting your daughter. She was a wonderful assistant, and I wish her the best with her new job. I’ve not led her on. She knows where I stand. We’ve had some ups and downs over the years, but my respect for her has been absolute.”

  My father harrumphed.

  My mother and Lydia (remembered her name too) returned to the family room with appetizers.

  The rest of the hour flew by in reasonable conversation. Then my father and John went to do something in the garage with the car, Julia went to take a nap, Tom went to read, and my mother, with one long look over her shoulder at me, returned to the kitchen with Lydia to finish dinner preparations.

  You okay? my mother mouthed.

  I smiled and nodded. She smiled in response, and the dimple on her cheek appeared. Another thing we shared, a dimple that appeared when we really smiled.

  Then I was alone with Kieran. Those pictures I’d had in my mind that morning of happy households were now of my happy household. I turned to him and crawled into his lap.

  He leaned back and held his hands out to the sides. “If your father sees this, he’ll kill me.”

  “My father’s in the garage talking about cars. That’ll take hours.” I straddled him and kissed him. Seeing him with my family had deepened my affection for him past where I believed possible. He’d handled my father well, and I could tell my mother and sister liked him, despite their worry for me and their prior warnings.

  “You want to get me in trouble,” he said.

  I brushed my nose against his. “I don’t. But do you want your Christmas present?”

  “I already got it.”

  I inclined my head.

  “I’m here with you.” His hands went to my lower back, and he pressed me harder against him. I withheld a moan as his arousal pressed against my core.

  I kissed him again and rocked my hips, sparks igniting in my veins. “Stop saying nice things just to get
in good with me. I’m going on the trip. You already won that.” I stopped rocking. “Wait here.”

  He groaned when I got up, and shifted, adjusting the front of his pants.

  I’d brought the gift with me to my parents’ because I hadn’t wanted to leave it in my apartment. It’d been broken into three times, luckily when I hadn’t been home, and I didn’t want to risk it.

  From my suitcase, I withdrew the gift and had a moment of doubt. It wasn’t as expensive as the ring he’d bought me. Kieran was the master of gift giving, and our budgets differed wildly.

  Too late to change my mind. I returned to the family room and handed him the small green gift bag and sat on the couch next to him, curling my legs beneath me. He accepted it and opened the top. No card. I avoided that because I wouldn’t know what to say. Merry Christmas, I love you forever? Lame. He knew what the gift was for.

  He removed the red tissue paper and set it next to him. Then he lifted out a travel French press, his favorite kind of coffee. He often complained on trips about hotel coffee, and there wasn’t always a way to find the coffee he preferred.

  “This is thoughtful. Thank you.”

  I touched the ring on my finger. “Not the same as a ring.”

  He kissed my cheek. “I like it very much. I’ll pack it with me on the trip.”

  My heart raced, and I wished I’d bought him a ring or something to mark that he was mine. I shouldn’t need to mark him. If he was mine, he just would be. He wasn’t the type to make declarations of love.

  He nuzzled my neck, kissing me beneath my ear. “I wish I could get you alone somewhere private.”

  “Me too,” I said, and resisted the urge to get back into his lap. His mouth demanded a response and I sank against him, letting his lips play with mine in a slow, drugging kiss.