Page 4 of Accepting Love

What I’m witnessing behind the house can only be described as such—gardens. It’s not an ordinary backyard. It’s well groomed and filled with mature trees, shrubbery, and flowers. There’s even a fountain. No wonder she has positioned the piano facing that view. I might have been inclined to purchase the home for that aspect alone.

I spend only seconds admiring the view before I turn my attention to the most splendid focal point in the room—Carolina Fraser. She’s like a thing of art sitting on the piano bench with perfect posture. Her hands are flying back and forth across the keys, flawlessly.

She looks comfortable and relaxed as the musical piece eases from a fast-paced rhythm to a new section that is slower and romantic.

I’m mesmerized. I can’t move from the doorway. I don’t want to disturb her. I’m rather surprised Ms. Simone even suggested such a thing.

Ms. Fraser’s hair hangs in long waves down her back, thick and dark. It looks perfectly styled as if she spent hours this morning curling it, but I get the impression it’s natural.

The only thing that seems out of place is that one would expect to step into this room to find a pianist in a long black dress and heels. That’s not the case. And why should it be? This is Ms. Fraser’s home. She’s not on stage. She’s practicing in her home on a Thursday morning.

This woman is wearing faded jeans and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt. She also has on pink tennis shoes, which makes me smile for some reason.

I inch into the room just a few steps. I don’t want to risk a floorboard creaking or a sneeze sneaking up on me. What if I clear my throat? I breathe slow and easy to prevent such a thing.

As the piece progresses, I can’t take my eyes off Ms. Fraser. Her skill is undeniable and so beautiful, both the sounds and her movements. It’s art. The most splendid form of art.

When the piece comes to an end, I feel oddly sad—the feeling I get when I finish a really good book and there are no more chapters. I want more. I want another chapter. I’m drained and shaking.

In my forty years, I’ve seen and heard thousands of performances both on stage and in my studio. None ever moved me as much as this heavenly experience.

I must have been holding my breath because suddenly I suck in oxygen, startling Ms. Fraser who spins around on her piano bench to face me.

I blink. Confusion consumes me. My brain feels like it’s broken as two worlds collide. This can’t be. I try to make sense of what I’m seeing—whoI’m seeing. “Hannah?” I breathe the word out almost too softly for my own ears.

Before I finish processing, she jumps to her feet, rubbing her hands together. “Zane…” She licks her lips and glances toward the door before looking back at me. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Her voice creaks. She looks like she’s going to faint. Panic causes her to take a step back, nearly falling on her ass as her legs hit the bench.

Ms. Simone’s voice suddenly fills the room as she rushes in to join us. “I heard the music end. Did I miss introductions? Carolina, this is Kingston Slade from Slade Studios. He’s here to assess the acoustics in this room and—”

She stops talking and steps closer, lining herself up between the two of us, glancing back and forth. “What’s wrong?”

Hannah starts shaking her head. Actually, all of her is shaking. “You’re Kingston Slade?” she mutters.

I wince. “Yes.” There’s no need pointing out whosheis. My head is spinning. What are the chances?

Ms. Simone speaks again. “I’m confused. What did I miss? Do you two know each other?”

Hannah rubs her temples. “You can’t be here,” she whispers.

“Caro?” Ms. Simone says, rushing closer to Hannah. She glances back at me. “What’s going on?”

I shake myself out of my shock, recognizing that Hannah, Carolina, is in full panic mode. And I know why. I need some time with her to calm her down and reassure her. I need Ms. Simone to leave the room.

“Ms. Simone—”

“Audrey. Please call me Audrey.” She glances at me but turns her attention back to Hannah.

Hannah’s face is white and she lowers herself so she’s sitting on the piano bench.

“Caro?” Audrey repeats.

Hannah finally lifts her gaze to face Audrey. “I know him from Surrender.”

Audrey sucks in a breath and looks back and forth between us. “Shit.” Her face turns about as white as Hannah’s and she starts trembling.

I’m taken aback at what Hannah has said. Apparently Audrey is aware of her membership to Surrender. I don’t know what else Hannah’s manager knows, but that’s a lot.

I clear my throat and step closer. “Hannah… I mean, Ms. Fraser… I would never…”

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