Page 61 of Saving Mr. Bell

Rudolf had eventually agreed to start with something simpler, but in those expectant seconds, before he pressed down on the first key, I didn’t know whether he’d stick to the agreement or do what he wanted. His unpredictability, as infuriating as it might be, was what made life with Rudolf so interesting and would continue to do so for years to come.

I reached into my pocket and fingered the small box I’d been carrying around with me for the past month. I was unsure of the reception my proposal would get when I finally found the right moment to make it. It could be a yes. It could be a no. Or it could be a quip about Arlo Thomas striking again and a question about whether the ring came with a ticket to Vegas?

As the first strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat major filled the auditorium, I relaxed back in my seat. Rudolf had stuck to what we’d agreed. He played it perfectly, emotion leaching out of every note. Twenty minutes passed in the same vein, Rudolf holding the audience—including me—in the palm of his hand. He reached the end of his current piece and, knowing what was next, I said a quick prayer.

Rudolf paused, tension creeping into his shoulders. His mouth moved over to the mic and the audience leaned forward expectantly. “The last time I played this,” he admitted, his voice loud in the otherwise silent auditorium, “I did things to it I’m sure would have horrified Mozart if he were still alive. So I’ve got to tell you I’m a bit nervous about playing it again.”

“Just do your best,” a woman with a heavy Germanic accent shouted. “Nobody can be perfect a hundred percent of the time.” If she’d been closer, I might have kissed her for choosing the right words at the right time.

“Yeah,” a man shouted from farther back. “We’ll all still love you regardless.” Him, I wouldn’t have kissed because other men telling my boyfriend they loved him was a step too far.

“Thank you,” Rudolf said into the mic. “I just don’t want to let you down. Again.”

The audience surged to their feet to clap and cheer. Once they’d settled down, Rudolf started to play. By the time he was halfway through the piece, it was clear he had nothing to worry about, that lightning wouldn’t be striking twice.

The rest of the concert passed in something of a blur, my judgment that the first half had been perfect sorely tested when Rudolf played even better, and I had to admit that perhaps he’d been right in wanting to get Mozart out of the way so he could relax.

The lights came on as the audience rose to their third standing ovation of the night. Was that some sort of record? Andthen Rudolf was bowing and going off stage and the audience was chattering excitedly, most of it in German. I waited to go backstage until most people had already filed out, security checking my pass before letting me through.

The corridor bustled with people, some of whom I recognized from Rudolf’s team, while others were unfamiliar to me, likely staff members of the Barenboim-Said Academy. It took a lot of “excuse me’s and sorry’s” before I got close to Rudolf’s dressing room.

I heard him before I saw him. “Where’s Arlo? Security has been told to let him through, right?”

“He’s got a pass,” the familiar voice of Sophie said. “It gives him backstage access.”

“So where is he?”

I increased my pace, Sophie looking relieved when I rounded the corner. “I’m here.” I gathered Rudolf into my arms and held him tight, aware of other people being present, but not caring enough about anyone except Rudolf to lift my head and find out who they were. “You were incredible out there,” I whispered into his ear.

“Yeah? I thought they’d resent me for being away so long.”

“There wasn’t one person in that audience who gave a damn about that. They were just glad to have you back playing again.”

“It’s like I told you,” Sophie said, immune to moments she perhaps shouldn’t involve herself in. “People appreciate things more when they have less of them.”

We both ignored her.

I brought the car to a stop in front of the hotel and lowered the window so I could shout out of it. “Hey, sexy man. Jump in my car and I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

Rudolf shook his head wearily as he stowed his case in the boot before climbing into the passenger seat. “If you’d said that the night outside the nightclub—”

I interrupted him before he could finish. “You’d have been in there like a shot and we wouldn’t have had all the drama of you pretending you didn’t want to be there.”

He rolled his eyes. “Actually, I was going to say I’d be single now, that I’d have run so far and so fast that I’d have probably crossed the Austrian border on foot.”

I laughed. “Likely story. Keep telling yourself that.”

During the drive to the cabin, I pondered the ring still burning a hole in my pocket, that perfect moment still not having arrived. What if I waited forever? What if a moment wasn’t perfect until you made it that way? I slowed the car before bringing it to a stop, nothing but trees on either side of us and the road empty of any other traffic.

A furrow appeared on Rudolf’s brow. “Don’t tell me we’ve broken down.” He lifted a hip and maneuvered his phone out of his pocket, releasing a breath as he studied the screen. “Thank God, we’ve still got reception. Who do I need to call?”

I snatched the phone out of his hand and threw it in the back seat. “We haven’t broken down. I just needed to talk to you. Well, to ask you something, really.”

“Yes,” Rudolf said.

I frowned at him. “You can’t say yes when you don’t know what it is.”

“I already did.”

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