Page 25 of A Wish for Us

I stretched my arms over my head. I saw her watching. When I met her eyes, she moved them down to the music. “Is it awful?”

“Not awful.”

“But not good either,” Bonnie said knowingly and sat back in her seat. She looked dejected. Her mouth opened, like she wanted to say something. I knew it would be about Friday night. The anger that usually controlled me began to rise in anticipation. She must have seen something in my face, as she said, “Cromwell, I think we should go to Lewis and ask for new partners. This”—she pointed between us—“isn’t working.” She kept her eyes down. “We’re not on the same page when it comes to music.” Her finger traced a vein of wood on the table. “Are…” She swallowed. “Are you still only wanting to contribute using electronic, or have you changed your mind?” I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale. I had asked her not to go there.

I couldn’t fucking go there.

And she was right. We weren’t well suited. Our tastes were different. I wouldn’t go down the classical route. Yet even knowing that, the thought of her partnering with someone else, someone like Bryce, had every cell inside me fighting back. “There’s no switching.”

The fight left Bonnie, and she leaned forward. “Then help me.” She ran her hand over her forehead. She looked tired. A deep breath followed. “Again, do you still only wanna do your side electronically?”

“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.

I saw the disappointment settle in her eyes. “Cromwell…” She shook her head. “The way you can play…” She reached out over the table and ran her fingers over mine. Her fingers were so soft. Her voice was quiet. Soothing. Sad. “I don’t know why you won’t play. But what I heard the other night…” Tears welled in her eyes. She put her free hand over her heart. “It moved me. So much.” My heart beat out of control. I couldn’t calm it down with her touching me. With her telling me how my music made her feel. I saw her. I saw the hope in her pretty face. Hope that I’d talk to her. That I’d say yes to composing with orchestral instruments.

Then my father’s face flashed into my head, and I frosted over like a branch of a tree when a snowstorm hit. Anger infused my muscles and I ripped my hand back, rolling my tongue ring just to keep from exploding. “Not happening.”

“Cromwell, why—?”

“I said it’s not happening!”

Bonnie froze. I looked around the coffee shop and saw all eyes on me. I leaned in close. “I asked you to forget what you saw and not bring it up again.” I screwed up a napkin in my hand. “Why can’t you just do as I ask?” I had intended for my voice to be hard, to scare her away. Instead it was broken and raw.

“Because I’ve never heard anyone so talented in my entire life, Cromwell.”

Each one of her softly spoken words hit me like a missile, trying to tear down my protective wall. “Drop it,” I said. I felt my throat tighten, the leash pulling tightly.

The clearing of a throat broke the tension. I kept my eyes on Bonnie, seething, as Sam, the wanker with the coffeepot, asked her, “Everything okay, Bonn?”

“Yeah,” she said and smiled. My stomach squeezed again. It was the second time today I’d seen her smile. And neither time was at me.

That bothered me more than it should.

I could feel Sam eyeing me. “You going to the concert this weekend?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

“Gotta work. Oh, before I forget, Harvey wanted to speak to you.” Bonnie got up and followed Sam. I had no clue who Harvey was. I finished the last of my coffee and looked down at the sheet of manuscript paper that was still lying on the table, staring at me. My hand tapped on the table as I stared back at it. I glanced around the shop and saw Bonnie near an office, talking. I fought against the need to grab the pen, but in the end the need to amend the composition won out. I crossed out the notes she’d roughly penned and replaced them with ones that flowed better.

When I finished, I stared down at the sheet and quickly got to my feet. My heart slammed too quickly in my chest. I shouldn’t have touched it. But I had to write them down. The notes, the melodies. Everything.

I needed to leave. I meant to take the sheet with me and chuck it on the way out.

“Shit,” I said, hissing as I burst through the door and realized I’d left the music behind. I looked left and right, deciding where to go. But then a text came through my phone.

Suzy: You around now? My roommate’s out all day.

Through the window, I saw Bonnie walk back to the table and pick up the manuscript paper. My heart was in my mouth as her eyes scanned the pages. Her hand went to her chest, making mine tighten in response. Then she raised her eyes, scanning the coffee shop. I knew she was looking for me. My pulse raced and my feet itched to walk back in and work with her. To show her what her music had inspired in me. To show her where I’d take the piece. What instruments I’d use. How I’d conduct.

But the tether that held me back, the one that controlled me, that kept me from sharing anything, pulled tight, keeping me still. Keeping all my anger locked inside.

My phone buzzed again.

Suzy: ???

I looked up at Bonnie and saw her pretty face. Saw her eyes drinking in the notes I’d written. And I knew that it was her that was challenging the walls I’d kept around myself for the past three years.

And I had to let it go, or I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope with what would spill out.

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