The Maestro

  His brows drew together in a question, and he brought his hand up as if inviting a response. “What exactly?”

  I would’ve preferred if he’d yelled back at me, but he’d kept his cool. “It’s hard to explain.”

  He rubbed his forehead and said nothing else. He asked Nathan to drop me at my apartment.

  We drove in silence for the rest of the ride.

  I struggled with disappointment in myself and guilt, which mixed into a frustration cocktail. The Maestro had left his party to help me, and I’d lashed out.

  I was in the wrong here, but much was at stake. This highlighted our differences and why we weren’t compatible.

  This wasn’t about the party, either of the parties. It was about us, and that heavy conclusion, those mixed-up emotions, was impossible to sort.

  The same confusion and hurt that had driven me from the job remained unresolved. Sleeping next to Kieran hadn’t fixed anything. It’d made everything worse. We’d be traveling together for weeks. That stress had been building, and now it exploded in ugly ways. I hated myself for my crap choices and how the whole situation played out.

  “Thank you for the ride,” I said, but then I slammed the door when I got out before he or Nathan could respond.

  Thankfully, my key was in my jeans pocket. I entered my apartment and flinched at the cold. Apparently, the heat had gone out again.

  I cranked the oil radiator on high and grabbed a blanket from the bed, then wrapped it around my shoulders.

  I sat alone in my dark, cold apartment, letting the little heater slowly spread warmth. I sipped water, knowing I’d pay for everything in the morning.

  * * *

  By the next morning, the radiator had thrown off a good amount of heat, although the dry heat parched me.

  I’d left water and ibuprofen out, and I swallowed both. My head hurt, and nausea and exhaustion pulled at me. I wished I had something decent to eat, but since I’d been living with Kieran, I hadn’t been to the food store.

  A knock sounded at the door. Kieran!

  I wanted to talk to him, to sort out what’d happened. I’d acted abysmally and owed him an apology.

  I pulled open the door, and my heart fell. It was Greg, and the strain around his eyes gave away he hadn’t slept well either. “I’m glad you made it back.” His clothes were rumpled and his hair askew.

  “You ditched me! You ran away.”

  Greg pulled at his hair, trying unsuccessfully to tuck the ends behind his ears. “I’m sorry about that. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I took off and walked home.”

  I couldn’t deal with this. I slammed the door in his face to prevent losing any more heat. I’d brought most of my favorite clothing to Kieran’s. We were leaving the next day for the tour. I showered and put on an outfit that didn’t fit right.

  Since I couldn’t tell my mother about the party or how I’d been living with Kieran, I called Julia instead. She’d understand. While I explained about Kieran and Greg, I tried to sort my feelings.

  Finally, Julia interrupted. “You haven’t told him you love him?”

  “Of course not. He wouldn’t react well.”

  Julia sighed with irritation. “This is the last thing you want to hear, but he’s bad for you. Like bad for you. You can’t see it, but I do. He’s cute and smart and some musical genius, but I want you to be happy. Every time you’re around him, you seem upset.”

  My sister’s response floored me, and my disappointment cut sharp. “I can’t stay away from him. We’re going on tour tomorrow. He’ll be in my face. I can’t avoid it.”

  “You can’t ruin your life over this guy. I met him. I get it. He’s smoking hot, and he’s sweet and charming and, geez, that accent is panty melting, but you need emotional distance. Get your head back into the space before you realized you loved him. Be professional and borderline cold to him. Don’t let him get you hot and bothered.”

  Julia then told me about a bad relationship she’d had before she’d met Tom.

  I couldn’t shake the depressing idea that when it came to Kieran, I always made bad choices. I kept pretending I could handle the relationship we had, in whatever form that took, but proving time and again that I couldn’t.

  I’d always want more from him. I’d always want him and no other.

  I downed a few more glasses of water and considered my sister’s words.

  But nothing would get rid of the heartache.

  12

  Kieran brought my bag to the airport, wheeling it to me. “Good morning, Rae.” He set it upright, and I took the handle from him. He’d dressed for travel in dark-wash jeans and a pale blue quarter-zip pullover that showed off the leanness of his body.

  His friendly tone lacked its usual warmth, and it killed me. I ached. I’d been a jerk to him after he’d left his party to rescue me. Even though my sister might’ve told me she approved of the split, my heart hadn’t come around to the same conclusion. “Hello, Maestro.”

  There. We’d been professional, and we’d broken the ice after the way we’d left things. We’d get through this trip, and then we’d move forward with our lives separately.

  Separately. I hated the idea of it and I patted my hair self-consciously. It hadn’t been cooperating this morning and between that, and my loose jeans and sweater, I wanted a do-over.

  The orchestra gathered in the airport. I had their boarding passes arranged alphabetically by last name, and I handed them to each person.

  Pretending to be fine when I obviously wasn’t would become second nature on this trip.

  I’d booked my seat far, far away from Kieran’s, the one benefit of traveling with the orchestra and making the arrangements. Vanessa traveling with us would defuse the tension. I’d train her to help Kieran and the orchestra moving forward, but I wouldn’t need to help Kieran directly. Thinking of the next three weeks in those terms helped.

  Vanessa sat next to me on the plane. “Tell me about this crazy party.”

  “What crazy party?” While the orchestra was invited to many events while on tour, none could be described as crazy parties.

  Vanessa leaned closer to me. “Glory said you were in trouble or something on New Year’s.”

  I winced, hating that I’d pulled Glory into it. At the time, I’d had no choice. I groaned, hoping she’d drop it.

  Vanessa giggled. “That good, huh? I was at the same party with David. People were all over the Maestro, practically hanging on his every word. Then we get the call that you’re in trouble, and he gets moody and flies out of there to rescue you.”

  She said “we” like she, Kieran, and Glory were a team.

  Vanessa was taking over the role I’d had. It’d been my choice, on my terms, to leave, and I had to let go of the petty jealousies that lingered inside me. I tried to make light of it. “A party I was at was broken up by the police, and they wanted to be sure everyone got home safely.”

  Vanessa sniffed. “Good for you. I was thinking you were some Goody Two-shoes sitting in Kieran’s lap, panting for him, but turns out you have a life of your own. Guess you’re not sleeping with him.”

  I forced a bright smile. “Right. That’s what I told you.” She didn’t need to know that for a few days, I’d lived with him. I didn’t want to fixate on that, not now when I’d somehow managed to bungle everything.

  “I’ll tell you, he was upset about it. Glory told everyone he had a family emergency, and that’s kind of true. You are like family to him. I get it.”

  Right. Like family. Another way to think about it, but not exactly comforting.

  * * *

  The biggest problem with music tours was the maddening, crazy, hectic schedule. The performances, the travel, the interrupted sleep, and the late nights wore people down quickly. They got edgy and snappish, and many of our already volatile and emotional musicians lost their cool.

  I tried to make sure they had coffee and water and snacks, which curtailed some of the drama.

  Their f
irst performance was scheduled shortly after we’d landed in Vienna. The musicians had traveled with their instruments, and their luggage was on its way to their hotel.

  A bus picked us up from the airport. I called the hotel to triple-check the rooms and the pickup of the luggage.

  Feeling reasonably sure it’d work out, I focused on getting to the performance hall.

  If anyone felt off their game, they didn’t let it show while on stage. They played to a packed house, and the music was wonderfully exhilarating. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed listening to them live.

  I stood off to the side and ignored Kieran when he glanced at me. After the first few times, I moved to stand behind Vanessa, who played with her phone, trying to connect it to the local network.

  Didn’t she realize the greatest musicians of our time were performing? Who cared about the posts on her social media feed?

  After the show, the musicians and I headed toward the bus destined for the hotel. Vanessa had been the first on. “I have the worst headache. Jet lag overkill. I need a glass of wine and to lie down.”

  The only person missing was Kieran.

  He was speaking to the niece of the chancellor, a knock-out redhead in her late twenties or early thirties who giggled and held on to him. Then she stroked the side of his face, and my stomach churned.

  She was exactly what he liked: long hair and a tight dress, huge breasts and a tiny waist. I turned away. I couldn’t watch.

  I didn’t bother waiting for him to get on the bus. He’d get where he needed to be.

  Pressed against the window with Vanessa next to me, I feigned exhaustion and closed my eyes. I didn’t want anyone to ask me about Kieran or to talk to me.

  After making sure everyone checked in and had their room keys and that their luggage had made it to the right rooms (only two bags needed to be switched), I went to my quiet room, with only the hum of the heater to soothe me to sleep.

  I slept terribly. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Kieran on top of that gorgeous redhead from the performance, his mouth between her legs the way he’d done with me, forced itself into my brain. I pictured his hands touching, stroking, and I wanted to run to his room and yell at him, even if he was in the midst of things. He’d wanted me on this trip, and as a concession to me, he shouldn’t sleep with other women.

  He’d said there was just me, but I’d seen Kieran’s emotions turn quickly.

  I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve withstood the pressure. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.

  With regrets ricocheting around my head, I trudged down to breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Everything in the lovely spread made my stomach turn.

  Kieran entered the dining room. Alone.

  If he’d come into this restaurant with the redhead, I’d have left. Sounds dramatic, I know. His hair was damp from a shower, and his eyes seemed to take in everything around him. The smile playing on his face indicated he’d slept well, which pissed me off. Why couldn’t his regrets keep him awake like mine had?

  He sauntered around talking to the members of the orchestra, while I pretended to ignore him. Vanessa plunked down across the table from me, chatting about an actor who’d spoken to her in the lobby the night before, and who she planned to meet up with later.

  Vanessa flicked her silky brown hair over her shoulder and her smile reached her catlike eyes. “How cool would that be to have an Austrian lover?”

  She could get anyone to fall in love with her. Women like her, those who owned their sensuality, could do anything. What arrangements she had with David were none of my concern. “Go for it.”

  Kieran sat next to Vanessa, in a spot harder to ignore him.

  I should’ve fled when I’d had the chance. The number of should’ves in my life raged out of control.

  Vanessa nudged him with her elbow. “Guess you had a good night.”

  His navy sweater made his brown eyes darker somehow. He dragged a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “The performance was good. We’ll be better tonight. It’s always touch and go the first night out.”

  I couldn’t meet his gaze or I’d cry. I handed him the folder with the information for the day, including the notes he and I had previously made on the evening’s selections.

  He took the folder. “Thank you, Rae.”

  I didn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t. I didn’t know if I’d yell or slap him or burst into tears. None struck me as the right option, just the impulsive one.

  Vanessa took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t mean the performance. You know, after. That redhead was all over you. Do you know that I met someone too?”

  I wanted to be sick at the mention of the redhead. I took a deep breath and worked to keep my face totally neutral.

  Vanessa launched into her story about the man she’d met at the hotel, her cheeks flushed with delight and a huge smile on her face. Guess she was over David.

  Examining the notes, Kieran turned a sheet of music toward me and pointed to a notation I’d made about the prior night’s performance. “This was slow?”

  “You gestured for the woodwinds to start, and they didn’t. Half a beat late.”

  Vanessa peered at the music, but she couldn’t read it fluently enough to see what we were discussing.

  I took a sip of the bitter coffee. “I need to show Vanessa a few other things about how I merge the notes.”

  Kieran set his hand on the table, and the tops of his fingers brushed mine. “Rae, look at me.”

  I slowly lifted my gaze and met his stare.

  His firm masculine lips were red. From kissing the redhead? Chapped from the cold? I wanted it to be the latter, but I couldn’t be naïve and couldn’t ask. “Can we meet when we arrive in Munich? I want to speak to you before the performance.”

  I gestured to Vanessa. “We’re at your command.”

  “Thank you.” He stood, taking the papers with him. Talking in front or near the orchestra meant we couldn’t talk openly. Many of our conversations took place in private.

  Being alone with him would do something to me, test my emotional control. Thankfully, Vanessa would be there.

  Vanessa gestured to his retreating back and me. “Are you two in some kind of fight? He seems tense, and you seem angry.”

  I shook my head and forced a smile as if everything was okay. “Not a fight. I try to stay focused on the road.”

  Vanessa didn’t seem to believe me, but she nodded. “Travel is stressful.”

  But the travel hadn’t caused my anxiety. A buxom redhead stood between us now.

  * * *

  We arrived at the hotel in Munich, and I checked into my hotel room. I entered the room, and a wave of dizziness hit me. Close on its heels, nausea. I raced for the bathroom.

  I’d planned to drop off my bags and meet with Vanessa and Kieran in the lobby.

  Twenty minutes later, sweat covered my body as I lay on the cold tile floor of the bathroom. I peeled off my black sweater and tossed it away. Even in a gray spaghetti-strap tank, heat pulsed through me and my skin burned.

  I closed my eyes, trying to muster energy and regroup. Food poisoning? A bad reaction to the lack of sleep and travel?

  A pounding on the door awoke me. I must’ve drifted off to sleep for a few minutes, cold and shivering, and somehow also sweating and flushed red.

  “Rae? What’s going on?” Kieran’s voice. “Are you in there? I have the hotel manager with me. If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.”

  As embarrassing as this was, I didn’t have the strength to get up. The door lock clicked open, and then Kieran and a portly, bearded man I didn’t recognize stepped inside.

  Two strides brought Kieran to me, and he knelt by my side.

  “I ate something bad. Or I have the stomach bug. Stay away from me.” I gagged, dry-heaving.

  Kieran set his hand on my forehead. He said something to the hotel manager in German. The manager left, and Kieran took a fresh washcloth from the
towel bar and wet it at the sink. He dabbed my forehead and neck. “Does that help?”

  The coolness of the water on my skin relieved the burning sensation. “Yes.”

  He left the washcloth on my head and strode to the minibar, returning with a bottle of water.

  My stomach turned. “That’s a ten-dollar bottle of water that I’ll throw up.”

  He twisted the cap off the bottle with a click. “I’ll pay for it. Just drink.”

  “I can’t.” Our eyes met. “I’m sorry.”

  I owed him an apology for New Year’s Eve, but also for this. I’d pushed him away. I’d expected too much of him. I’d known who he was from the beginning, but I’d let myself believe this fantasy. I’d done this to us, brought us to this bad place, and now I clung to the hope that what we’d had meant something to him. As it was too difficult to speak the question, I whispered another apology. “I’m so sorry.”

  He set his fingers lightly on my bare shoulder. “I know.”

  Then I dry-heaved again.

  “The manager is getting the on-call doctor. He’ll come to examine you. Let me help you to the bed.”

  Kieran’s strong arms pulled me to my feet. He lifted me and carried me to the bed and tugged down the covers. Secure in his arms, I wished he hadn’t touched me. I didn’t want to feel safe and cared for with him. I should feel that way on my own, even in a foreign country while sick in a bathroom.

  He settled me on the mattress. “Do you want the covers on?”

  “I’m cold and sweating.”

  He frowned then pulled the sheet and blanket up around me. He should go so I could sleep, and this would pass.

  I pointed to the door with a shaking hand. “You need to go to the performance.”

  He sat on the edge of the mattress, making it dip under his weight. “I’ll cancel.”

  He’d never canceled, especially not during an overseas tour and a sold-out performance. “I’ll be fine. I need to sleep, and I can’t do that with you hovering over me. The orchestra needs you.”