Page 120 of Strings
“Really?” Bella says, huffing loudly. “I think he’s made it clear he wants you. Have you seen how he looks at you? I would kill for a man to look at me like that.”
“Um, have you met Michael? He wants you bad. He looks at you like you walk on water.”
“He does? Huh. How did I not see it?” Bella places her finger up to her lips as she thinks. “Anyway, we cool?”
“You mean after you tore apart my apartment?”
She cringes. “Well, technically, it wasn’t actually me. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”
I shake my head. “Forget it. What you did tonight was more than enough. Thank you.”
I take the clipboard from Amy and tear off a piece of paper. I write,I had a reason for you to stay, but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I deserved you. I still don’t. And even though it’s over, I wanted you to know. I love you. I always will no matter where you go or what you do. Thank you for breaking down my walls. The next thing I build will be a new foundation, and I owe it all to you. Goodbye, Sebastian.
I fold the paper and hand it to Amy. “Give this to him, okay? I have to go.”
“No, you can’t. “
“I’ll talk to you soon. I’ve got to get out of here before I explode.”
I walk away from her, and out of the corner of my eye I see her turn left, then run right. She cracks me up.
I make my way along the outer wall of the room, hoping to get to the exit without having to speak to anyone. I’m exhausted. When I get to the back, two men step in front of me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Pearson, but we are under strict orders to detain you.”
“Why?” I ask, trying not to cause a scene.
They look at each other. “Because Amy said so.”
My head rolls back and I fold my arms over my chest. “She can’t do that. It’s against the law. You realize that, right?”
“Look, we’re just following directions. She said she’d be here in a second. Please wait.”
“Distinguished guests, I’m thrilled to introduce the pride of the Los Angeles Symphony, the one and only, Sebastian Corronov.”
The crowd stands and claps as Bordo introduces him. He walks out onto the stage, carrying his violin. He searches the crowd, but I don’t know why.
“Good job, guys!”
I spin to face her. “Amy, you can’t detain me. Why are you doing this?”
“I promised him you’d be here.”
“Promised who?”
She rolls her eyes and points toward Sebastian.
“Why would he want me here?”
“Because. He’s playing for you.”
I turn back around and we make eye contact. Even over hundreds of chairs, I know when he’s looking at me. But this time, it’s not pity I see. He’s smoldering. I know that look. I must be reading him wrong. He’s looking at me like I’m chocolate cake and he’s hungry. Could he really want me?
“I gave him your note. He didn’t read it. He stuffed it into his pocket. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
The piano begins. Sebastian is standing next to an older woman. I’m guessing she’s Dorlene. I laugh at myself. I was jealous, again for nothing. The song is familiar, but I can’t place it. That is, until Sebastian starts to play.
The sound of his strings bounces off the walls and hits me straight in the chest. He’s playing, “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” the Ingrid Michaelson version. But this isn’t classical. It’s supposed to be a classical piece. What is he thinking?
