Page 40 of Serving the Maestro

“A funk, huh?”

Her eyes softened a fond smile on her face. “You’re not denying it. We all go through...periods.”

“I just hit a rut with my music, Avery.” With a one-shoulder shrug, I glanced toward the piano, thought of the project I was working on and of the new music, something of my own I was slowly putting together. “I’m working through it.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“I’m fine, Avery.” More than fine, really. Staring absently at the far end of the couch where Avery sat, my thoughts drifted to the afternoon Jazz and I had shared, the movie marathon we’d enjoyed—I’d sat in that spot right there, Jazz cuddled against me, and it was one of the best afternoons of my life.

“So you haven’t been suffering from some...ennui?”

“Ennui? You think my life lacks excitement?” Laughing, I relaxed back in the chair and stretched my legs. “Maybe I did, for a while. But I worked through it, and I’m good now. It’s sweet of you to worry, but I’m fine. How did you even know where I was?”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. At forty, she was still gorgeous. When she smiled, she was stunning.

But that smile didn’t hit me like it once had.

“I sort of tricked it out of Stephen.” She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t sure what floor you were on, but the concierge was kind enough to call up.”

“Yeah?” I grinned at her, well aware of how much of a flirt she was. “How much did you butter him up?”

“I barely even smiled,” she said in a lofty tone. She settled more comfortably on the couch, looking around with open curiosity. “This is a lovely apartment. You did nicely getting this job, honey.”

She wasn’t lying. “How long are you here for?”

“Only a few days. I just wanted to check on you, see if I could cheer you up.” She lifted a brow, “You don’t seem too down.”

“Like I said, I’m fine. Where’re you staying?”

She winked. “With you, silly. I’m sure you won't find me an imposition?”

Fuck. “Of course not.” I most certainly did, but I couldn’t tell her that.

“Oh, lovely! Can you show me around?” She clapped her hands, then stood, walking over to the wall of windows beyond the baby grand piano. “This view...”

Once she wasn’t looking at me, I sighed and shoved a hand through my hair.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The timing of this was...fuck.

As Avery continued to talk about the view, asking questions and then moving on before I could answer, I shoved to my feet.

“You want something to drink, Avery?” I asked. “I’m going to grab some water.”

“That sounds lovely, Trent.” She still had her gaze locked on the view outside the window.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I headed into the kitchen. The timing. Frustration twisted through me, and on the heels of it, guilt. All the plans I’d made for the upcoming weekend, and just like that, everything fell apart.

I couldn’t tell Avery I already had plans.

Fuck. I pinched the bridge of my nose as the reality settled in.

I was starting to feel something for Jazz, and I had no right. No right at all.

I had to cancel my plans with Jazz—and somehow, I had to stop feeling these...feelings for her.

The painful ache in my chest spread and grew heavier.

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