The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,26

lunch,” I said.

Kim quietly set her cello down on its side. She had performed adequately but stiffly, like in rehearsals. As I feared, her performance skills had rusted over and she had formed bad habits that would need to be broken in order to be reset.

Only after standing to stretch my neck side to side did I notice she was unnervingly quiet. And in fact, upon replaying the last few hours in my head, I could not remember the last time she bit out a snarky comment. Her eyes were low and focused on the task of loosening the hair of her bow. She would not meet my face.

She sniffed and I reared back. Was—was she crying? Why?

“No,” I said, short and unexpected as a gasp of surprise. She shouldn’t cry. She should never cry.

“I can’t do this,” she said quietly, still not lifting her head.

“Do what, exactly?”

“This. All of this. I’m not to this level.” She gestured to the cello. When she finally brought her face up, her eyes were glossy and her pale skin grew splotchy. Her attention was focused behind my head, not looking directly at me. “I don’t understand why you asked me to do this.”

“Don’t cry,” I snapped. “We’ve only just started.”

“I’m not crying.” She shot back, her bottom lip jutting out and quivering. “If it seems like that it’s only because I’m angry and my stupid face makes me look like I’m crying.” She sniffed.

I didn’t like that she called her face stupid. I didn’t like that she was acting like this. “Where did this come from?”

“I’m humiliated. I’m not at this level.” She took a deep breath in. “Did you bring me down here just to show me all of my shortcomings? To remind me that I’m a second rate professional?”

“I would never do that.” Inexplicably, my heart started slamming against my chest, rattling me like a gong. I could handle ego and temper tantrums, but I couldn’t handle Kim’s self-doubt. I didn’t recognize this person. I stood, aware that my hands had fisted at my sides.

“Just explain it to me then. This isn’t an attempt to fish for compliments. I genuinely do not understand why I’m here.”

My heart was now racing at climactic tempo, slightly erratic and running away. I couldn’t hold her gaze.

“I don’t pretend that I’m not talented. But Maestro, you have to see that I’m not the best for this.”

“This is why you practice,” I growled the words.

She gripped her bow brandishing it like a knife. “Why not Carla or Barry? Why not audition people for this? There are thousands more talented than me.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.

Her nostrils flared even as the rest of her face started to crumple in dismay. How did I communicate this to her? With every second she questioned me, my panic grew.

She took a deep breath and held my gaze. “I can see that you’re frustrated with me,” she said. “But getting angry isn’t helping me understand. I hate that I sound so unsure of myself. There was a time—” She shook her head. “But you have to give me something more to understand.”

She was humiliated. I was too, but she didn’t see that. She only saw the anger. I needed her. My heart hammered. I had to give her something. I couldn’t risk her saying no. Rejection from her of all people might break me.

“It’s not always about talent. It’s about potential.” I began tentatively, trying to explain some without giving too much away. “You’re dedicated. You’re punctual. You’re available.” These were all facts that were true, but they weren’t selling her. The trepidation was still there in her quivering lip. I lifted her chin, touching her again before realizing it. “Some people have a spark in them. I’ve heard you practicing at night when you think nobody can hear you. You have that talent, but more importantly, you have passion.”

Her eyes widened.

I went on, “There is something locked inside of you that is desperate to be free. When I heard you play …” I swallowed down the fear in my dry throat. “You inspired me—my music. That’s why I need your help.”

Her mouth closed as she processed. My heart raced as though I’d confessed all my sins. Her head just shook like she wasn’t sure of any of it.

I swallowed. Go big or go home … alone. “I can’t do it without you. I need you. I’ve tried and failed on my own. I’m stuck. This is my last chance.” The confession