Page 163 of Perfect Pitch

“I need to make a change in the contract before I turn over the final score—even though we all agree the songs are done.”

A hush comes over the room. It’s Simon who asks caustically, “What kind of change?”

My father’s arm drapes over my shoulder. “Well, you see, I didn’t write the last few songs by myself.”

Evangeline’s lips twitch. Her eyes meet mine and I’m bedazzled when the full force of her smile hits me. “Had a little help?”

“I did. And I want the credit—and the royalties—to reflect that.” My father squeezes my shoulder.

I catch on to what he’s saying, and my head falls back against his arm. “Dad, you did the majority of the work.”

Since my parents reconciled, my father and I have spent more time together than ever. When we were tooling around on his first purchase—an upright piano he keeps under lock and key in his music room—I started playing a melody I had stuck in my head that I couldn’t get out.

My father sorted through a stack of papers until he came across some lyrics.

Then he added some harmony.

It took hours, but we sang the first stanza together by nightfall. By the end of the next day, the closing number to Broadway’s newest show had been written.

“Kid, there’s no way I would have made the deadline if it hadn’t been for you.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

There’s a lump in my throat I try to swallow. Over and over, I try to get my voice to work. Then I meet Mitch’s eyes across the room where he’s standing near the door, and the pride in them causes my emotions to overflow.

This life I’m leading is so blessed, I muse as Simon agrees to modify the contract.

“I have an idea,” Evangeline suggests. After I listen to her suggestion, excitement begins to thrum in my veins.

“What do you think?” I ask my father, hoping like hell he’ll say yes.

“A chance for you to play with the most talented musician... Oof!” I interrupt his self-aggrandizing remarks by elbowing him in the stomach. He hugs me close before telling Simon and Evangeline we’d love to play at their opening night.

“And maybe a few others?” Simon pushes.

Beckett smirks. “Maybe.”

Dazed, I find Mitch’s lips fighting back a smile. Surreptitiously, I pinch myself. Yes, this is my life. It’s a far cry from the pain I left behind in Texas. It’s fresh, new, and exciting.

Above all, it’s filled with love, and right now, I crave that emotion from someone, somewhere, since I’m terrified I’m going to lose it.

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

MAY

Local OB-GYNs have indicated last year’s #thundersnow #showers led to this spring’s #babyshowers

—StellaNova

Not since I started dating Mitch did I ever think I’d be grateful for being left behind when my boyfriend was on a trip with my parents.

Never.

Not until today.

I’m sitting on the floor of my bathroom with my leather pants unzipped—because I cannot zip them. Scattered all around me are all my jeans, dress slacks, and slim-fitting skirts.

None of them close.

---