The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,27

sent me into a tailspin. If she walked away now, after I admitted all this to her, where would that leave me? I regretted saying so much. I should have just forced her to do it.

But then her features smoothed and she nodded. It was just like the night of the solo, when she understood that she was doing it to help and not to take. “You need me to help you. This is for your success. I understand that now.”

Chapter 12

Feel the composer’s meaning.

KIM

Devlin needed my help. The choice was mine. After he’d admitted to watching me play, I’d left the room under the guise of needing a break and come back to the guest room to think. I was too floored to process. Well, let the processing commence. If I was alone and at home, I’d change into my softest sweatpants, make a cup of tea, and binge-watch crappy TV. But no. There were no distractions to aid in avoiding the thoughts and fears that caused a downward spiral of self-doubt and panic.

I was curled in a ball on the window seat watching the heavy rain fall outside. It had been an exceptionally cold and rainy start to spring. The dreary weather only added to my melancholic state. All that was missing was Adele to sing along to, and my self-indulgent pity party would be complete.

I inspired him. Those words were on a loop in my head.

It would be easier if he demanded from me. If he told me I had to do it and pointed out everything on the line. I wanted the Devil of the Symphony as he presented himself; demanding and sure of everything. He seemed convinced that I was the key to his success, and more alarming than that, vulnerable to my rejection.

I longed for the safety of home and my strict schedule.

My phone buzzed with a text. I jumped at the sight of Devlin’s name popping up. It was still so weird to get messages from him. A tiny frission of something happened in my body.

“Lunch is ready.”

I blew out a long breath through pursed lips and tossed the phone to the side. I wasn’t ready to see him. But I was super hungry. My stomach grumbled and I acquiesced. I dramatically rolled off the window seat and shuffled to the door. If nothing else, eating always helped motivate me.

I kept my ears perked for sounds from Devlin as I made my way down to the dining room table. My jaw dropped. Heavy wooden blocks were stacked high with several types of olives. Hard and soft cheeses with waxed edges had been laid next to fat, dark purple grapes and little green ones. Almonds, cashews, and Brazil nuts piled in small mounds were tucked between decadent chunks of dark chocolate topped with flecks of sea salt. Slices of fatty hard salami and prosciutto were splayed next to whole grain round crackers. It was a Caravaggio painting come to life with rich colors, abundant textures, and enticing smells. My eyes could hardly register all the treats spread before me.

My stomach growled loudly in approval.

Next to a stack of plates were three silver buckets of ice with bottles in them at the end of the table, along with toothpicks and napkins. I was happy to find a sparkling cider that I could drink. The rosé I would avoid. Geez Louise, how many people were joining us?

My phone buzzed again. Devlin. What did it mean that a little spike of something flooded me when I saw his name?

“I have work and won’t be able to join you.”

Yes, I had just been distressed at the idea of seeing him again, but truth be told, his message evoked a small pang of disappointment. I was alone a lot. My parents were so close and their love for each other so strong that I had always felt like a third wheel. Well, at least I was excellent company.

I still had the phone clutched to my chest when it vibrated again.

“Enjoy.” The follow up text said.

“Thank you. The food looks amazing,” I sent.

The message showed as read but a second later my phone was forgotten.

“Hello? Hope it’s okay we just let ourselves in—Holy cannoli!”

I spun around at the exclamation to see Gretchen LaRoe, looking as fabulous as ever, standing in the doorway. She nodded with approval at the food piled high behind me as she shrugged out of a floral print raincoat and hung it up on a hook.

“Gretchen?” I

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