Page 117 of Crescendo

I hit the computer, listening to my piece with the clarinet track silenced, and it came like breathing. Painful, aching,realbreathing. The breaths that stabbed at your ribcage, anguished gasps of needed air.

The clarinet line I’d written in the DAW was wrong. I knew what it was now—now that I’d figured out what the piece was. It was Lydia. Warm, rich, vibrant notes. A light in the darkness of the rest of the piece. Melancholy and heart-wrenching as the music evolved.

The clarinet was the star of the piece. It was soft, easy laughter, tangled up in bed together; steady, constant presence in desolate moments; and deep, desperate regret and hope that battled, begging to love and be loved.

And it was then that I knew the title too. A title that had been there waiting, in the corner of the room, for me to find it and release it.

I recorded the clarinet in, listened to it back, hugged Lydia’s cardigan to my body, wondered whether I could ever send the piece to her.

And I typed its name and saved it asAcross the River.If only the Atlantic were as small as the Thames.

Chapter 25

Lydia

I tried to put on a smile when Natália met me at the airport, but it felt like I was moving my face in a wax mold.

“I thought you were never coming home again,” Natália said, walking quickly across baggage claim to give me a tight, bracing hug. Going from British levels of hugs to Brazilian levels of hugs was going to be an adjustment.

“You know it was only a two-month program from the get-go,” I said, and she pouted.

“Your accent still sounds the same. I was hoping you’d come back sounding all posh British.”

“We’ve… been on the phone. You’ve been hearing my voice.” Still, I squeezed her, hugging her longer and tighter than I normally did, just letting myself sit in the moment for what was probably a few seconds but might well have been hours. It wasn’t about the flight exhaustion. I’d been so drifting in and out of awareness ever since I kissed Ella goodbye that I’d barely even noticed I was in the air, and now, suddenly, here I was, Los Angeles. The fact that it was only half an hour later in local time than the time when I took off didn’t help. Felt like I’d stepped through a wormhole.

Natália stepped back, taking a long breath and giving me her puppy-dog eyes. “You look so sad,” she said. “I didn’t mean to take you away from your girlfriend. I feel terrible, like I should have been able to do this myself, like I should have—”

I put a hand up. “Shh. It had to happen anyway. And I’m happy I can be here for this. Now—enough talk about that. London’s behind me.” I stood up taller. “So… isyourgirlfriend here, or did she have work to do?”

Natália shoved her hands in her pockets, swaying aimlessly, looking away. “She’s in the car. I made her wait there because I didn’t want to be in the middle of a whole fight here in the airport and I wanted to make sure first that you weren’t going to start throwing hands!”

“I’m too tired. I’ll throw hands tomorrow.” I paused. “So, you did go and make it official then?”

She went wide-eyed, staring at me for a few seconds before, awkwardly quiet, she said, “Um… how badly do you want the answer to be no?”

“I’m not going to be mad.”

“Yes,” she said, and I was alittlemad. But not on my life was I going to show that in front of Natália. I strained a smile.

“If she ever treats you badly in any way, or makes you uncomfortable, or if you just don’t feel right—at all—in any way—then let me know. I’ll even restrain my urges to get in a fistfight with her if it does come to that, so we can work it out productively instead.”

She smiled sadly at me. “Thank you. It’s good to have you home.”

Home, huh? Guess it was that.Homesuddenly felt like a thing that was vague and blurry around the edges, but this was where I had to be, so it had to be home. “It’s good to be home,” I made myself say. “Let’s not waste any time. We’ve got a blockbuster to score.”

“Lydia,” she said, fumbling to keep up with me as I started striding towards the exit. “Lydia, wait!”

“There’s no time for waiting.”

“Lydia, don’t you want your luggage?”

I turned around. “Yes, I do,” I said.

It took an eternity for the baggage carousel to spit out my suitcase, or maybe it just felt like an eternity—either way, it felt like the antsy feeling building up in me would explode by the time I got my suitcase and got out to the car, where Melinda had the trunk open waiting for me, and I flung the suitcase into the back before I turned to face her, looking her over. She tried to stand up taller, tried to defiantly match me, but I could see the way she shrank away, just a little, instinctively, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

Natália’s soft gaze, tinged with sadness, looked between the two of us. Girl really did like her.

I stepped forward, and I pulled Melinda into a hug. “Could at least say welcome back,” I said, thumping a hand on her back, and she squeezed me.

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