Page 43 of Saving Mr. Bell

I was all too aware of the precipice I balanced on, that I risked making things worse when I had zero qualifications as a therapist, which was probably what Rudolf needed. Instead, I was relying on blind instinct, and so far today, that hadn’t served me well, my plan to get him to show me how it was done so heavy-handed that he’d seen through it in seconds. It wasn’t all bad, though. He had opened up and at least talked about it.

And instead of distracting him and doing something fun, I’d dragged him back to the piano. The stool was plenty big enough for two if we sat close. No hardship there. Rudolf sat, but kept his fingers on his lap. My heart thudded in my chest as I rested my fingers lightly on the keys. “Mrs. Shufflebottom liked duets.”

“Did she?”

There was no reading anything from Rudolf’s tone. “She did. And she loved Christmas.”

“I’m still not convinced you haven’t made her up.”

I laughed. “If we’re ever back in England at the same time, I’ll take you to meet her.”

“Is there a Mr. Shufflebottom?”

“Why? Are you thinking of having a crack at her? It was the mustache that did it for you, wasn’t it?”

A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of Rudolf’s lips. “I do like a good mustache.”

I ran a hand over my clean-shaven face. “If only I’d known I would have grown one for you. Maybe you would have fallen in with my dastardly plans quicker if I had.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. Lack of a mustache was the major flaw in your plan.”

I took Rudolf being able to laugh and joke as a good sign. Of course, that might change once I started playing. And there was no guarantee he’d feel any desire to join in. A lot hinged on me choosing the right song. With that in mind, I ran through my repertoire, wishing I’d had more time to add to it over the past few years.

Only when the silence had long since grown sharp edges did I play, launching into the first few notes ofFly me to the Moon. I could tell from the slight lift of Rudolf’s eyebrow that the choice of song had surprised him. He’d probably expected me to go for something classical, something more suited to him. But that was precisely why I hadn’t.

This time, I played to the best of my ability. Which wasn’t by any means expert, but was a damn sight better than I’d been playing while I’d waited to see whether Rudolf would leave the bedroom or choose to ignore me. When I reached the point where someone else would normally join in, I held my breath, telling myself that if he didn’t, it was no big deal. It would just mean I’d pushed him too far, too fast, and he wasn’t ready. He was only twenty-three. He had all the time in the world to get over whatever mental blocks had taken root.

When a tentative hand crept into view and started playing an accompaniment to my notes on the higher keys, there was no holding back my smile. By the time we reached the most energetic part, where we both needed two hands, Rudolf was smiling too, the sight bypassing my cock and going straight to my heart. When the song reached its end, I turned to him. “Was that so bad?”

“It was surprisingly good fun,” he admitted. “What else have you got?”

Over the next hour, we worked through several light-hearted songs, Rudolf easily able to improvise the second part, such was the depth of his talent. We’d tried it the other way round on a couple of songs, but I’d failed miserably, much to Rudolf’s amusement. I didn’t mind him laughing at me as long as he was laughing. Seeing him playing the piano and enjoying it was the only gift I needed this Christmas.

“How about something Christmassy?” Rudolf suggested. “I thought you said Mrs. Shufflebottom, who may or may not exist, taught you some Christmas duets.”

“She exists.” I thought for a moment, knowing I risked ruining everything by playing the song I wanted to when it strayed into classical territory. But how could I not when it was the perfect song? “Carol of the Bells,” I announced. “Or as I like to call it, The Carol of Rudolf Bell.”

“You smooth talker, you.”

“That’s me. I’m wasted making documentaries.”

“You are indeed.”

With it being a classical piece, I got the full Rudolf Bell experience, his fingers dancing over the keys to leave me feeling like I always lagged a step behind. The huge smile on his face as he played said he didn’t mind. Once we’d finished, I sat back with a contented sigh. “I can’t believe I just got to play a classical duet withtheRudolf Bell.”

He gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Shut up.”

“I’d ask for your autograph if I had something for you to write on.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I suppose you could sign my chest.”

“I’ll do something to your chest.”

“Promises, promises.”

Rudolf heaved out a sigh, and I gave him time to gather his thoughts. “So I guess I can still enjoy playing. Maybe I just need a break from my usual repertoire.”

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