The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,12
held on a second longer. He tucked his head into my neck and groaned a little as he squeezed me tight. Him being back and knowing he saw my solo tonight added to my already muddled brain.
“God, look at you.” He finally released me, his eyes glinting as they moved over my face. “You haven’t aged a day.”
We held each other’s hands and grinned like children as we shared looks of happy disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” I asked finally.
“I’m in town visiting my folks. They wanted me to see Carla’s solo. They want me to represent her.” He grimaced. “But then you came up. I knew it was you the second I saw you. My God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
I blushed. It was Roddy, all these years later. Roddy from orchestra camp. First chair violin. Adored by all, and my first boyfriend. My guardian angel. He’d been the one to keep me going with his words. Even after Jethro and the time at the retreat. It was his notes I had pulled from my memory to keep me going.
He interrupted my thoughts. “You were amazing tonight. Perfect. Nobody could tear their eyes away from you.”
“Thank you.” I shook my head. I hadn’t been perfect at all. I was sloppy from nerves, especially at first.
It was hard to be complimented on my talent. I took it with a combination of modesty and deflection. “I’ve been practicing a lot lately.”
“It shows,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“I can’t believe you’re back. You’re so huge now.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I mean successful.” I had heard that Roddy had left playing music himself to manage soloists instead. “I’ve heard of some of your clients—Markus Savagno and Caroline Tetch. She’s touring Asia right now, isn’t she? So impressive.”
His dimple appeared with a sheepish grin. “Just lucky.”
“Luck is timing and preparation,” I said quoting one of his notes from so many years ago.
I quoted them all the time, but only I knew that.
He shuffled with hands deep in his pockets and smiled at the ground. “You’re right. Thank you. They’re amazing clients. But tonight is about you. That performance. You should hear the buzz … I can’t believe you’re Christine Day. When did you change your name?”
“My parents thought I should have a—a stage name after …”
He cut me off. “We don’t have to talk about all that.”
Most people never wanted to discuss the darker parts of my past. It was a blip on the radar and people preferred to ignore it. Christine Day was all that mattered now. But maybe Roddy and I could talk about it. Maybe he was back to finally help me move on with my life. My chest lightened for the first time since Carla had missed practice.
“We should go out.”
“Now?” I glanced longingly again at the snacks.
“Are you too busy to celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?”
“Your successful solo.”
I frowned at that. It should have been Carla’s solo. My stomach growled loudly, and I made a face.
“I was actually about to get a snack.” I thumbed behind me to the vending machine.
He grimaced. “Don’t eat that. Come back to my box. My parents had it all set up. I have real food.”
Roddy tugged me away down the hall and I mourned the trail mix still in the snack machine. By the time we climbed back up the flights of stairs, made small talk with a few acquaintances, and wound through a pressing crowd, I was pretty dizzy. With how regularly I worked out and practiced, my blood sugar tended to be an issue. I knew better than to wait this long to eat and drink. I was highly susceptible to coquettish fits of fainting. It was pretty embarrassing actually, so I was diligent about snacking regularly.
Roddy’s box, or rather, his parent’s box, sat just left of the stage, high up with an amazing view. The room spun a little as I plopped into one of the chairs. I’d never been so grateful to stop moving.
He handed me a glass of champagne. I held up my hand and shook my head. “No thank you. I don’t drink.”
“Not even to celebrate your fantastic performance?” he asked.
I didn’t feel like arguing. I just smiled and accepted the glass.
“Cheers.” He tinged his glass against mine and took a hearty gulp. He eyed me closely, raising his eyebrows. I brought the glass to my lips and took a tentative sip.