Page 115 of To Bring You Back
Only the conductor, the two percussionists, and she with her bass, were on their feet. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail with soft curls at the ends. Her variation on the dress code of black and white was classy, a silky short sleeve blouse and slim-fitting dress pants, probably paired with flats since she looked as short as ever, especially next to her instrument. Her expression was serious, but she didn’t fidget. She was in the zone, ready to work, but not nervous.
He could applaud already.
The conductor lifted his hands and guided the orchestra into the first piece. Gannon heard nothing but the bass line and didn’t glance at the stage when the curtain opened and the actors made their entrance.
Adeline was performing again, all in.
In many ways, the last eight months had been the longest of his career. Because Adeline wanted to be friends while she pursued other things, he’d known they couldn’t spend hours and hours talking. Their conversations were semi-regular but never as deep as he’d like.
The ache to discuss their relationship and future grew no matter how he tried to curb it. He’d kept busy recording the new album, tapingAudition Room, getting to know Miller, writing new music, the tour. The time had passed, but he was growing too tired to keep the pace much longer.
It’d gotten bad, this friend act. So many times he’d nearly ended one of their calls with an “I love you.” Wherever he went, he knew how many hours it would take to get to her—how many flights, how long each would last, how far he’d have to drive.
He regularly played the recording of Adeline’s bass line for “Phoenix.” Once John discovered that, he’d started blaming any off day Gannon had on lovesickness, and both John and Miller had been laughing at Gannon’s increasingly good mood the closer the calendar got to this trip.
“Why haven’t you married this girl yet?” Miller asked as they boarded a plane for the US, the Asian leg of the tour over.
John had smirked. “She’s just not that into him.”
Was that true? When they’d said goodbye in August, he’d expected her to invite him back into her life long before this, but here he was, just another face in the crowd.
Now, he understood how his fans felt.
He’d promised to let her break his heart one more time, and for all he knew, she would when they saw each other. She’d say he’d respected her request for space so long and so well that she’d assumed they’d both moved on. She’d introduce her new boyfriend, who would’ve attended opening night of the musical.
Okay. Not a boyfriend. That would’ve come up.
But it’d been months.
A couple of weeks ago, she’d told him she missed him at the end of one of their calls. A first. He hoped it meant she missed him like he missed her, but he hadn’t pressed to clarify in any of their conversations since. He wanted to have the discussion in person, especially given he’d already planned this trip.
Tonight, he’d find out what she’d meant. If she remained stuck on the idea of being friends, she’d never get unstuck from it. He’d have to move on.
He didn’t want to. So he’d boarded that plane in Beijing, then another plane. And another. And then he’d gotten in a rental car. On arriving in town, he’d cleaned up at the hotel. Now, here he was, absolutely spent and not sure how she’d receive him, if he should even let her know he’d come or if she’d see this as an intrusion on a process she’d asked to complete without him.
All he knew was that listening to her play felt more like rest than anything he’d experienced in a long, long time.
Adeline rolledthe bass into the classroom across from the gymnasium. The case with wheels had been one of the best investments she’d made in the last year. She maneuvered around Mandy, the cellist, to fit her instrument into a corner.
Jessica cleaned her flute at a nearby desk. “Good job tonight.”
“You too.” Adeline couldn’t stop grinning. The three hours had flown by. She’d wondered if the show would tire her. They’d practiced so much that she’d feared the music might start to bore her. Instead, she felt nothing but energy.
The last time she’d felt this way had been after performing with John, Gannon, and Fitz in high school. They’d made a habit of going to an all-night pancake house after shows. Up until tonight, she’d thought that had been teenage energy at work, but now she understood it as something else. If Lakeshore had an all-night restaurant, she’d get a group together. Maybe she could talk Tegan into staying up to make a batch of pancakes at home.
“Addie, Addie, Addie.” Olivia dodged the last row of desks and clasped her arms. “You’re never going to guess who’s here. Did you know?”
Only one person would elicit this excitement from Olivia.
Gannon had come?
She’d mentioned the musical, but he’d last called from China. He hadn’t breathed a word about seeing her. She couldn’t blame him—he’d been sticking to the relationship she’d requested last fall. But she was ready for more.
So ready.
Maybe he’d lost interest, but Tegan assured her he wouldn’t keep in touch if that were true.
Finally, she’d taken matters into her own hands. Told him she missed him. A lot. Waited to see how he’d respond.
