Want (29 page)

“Yes, sir. Actually,
you’r
e the reason I love Rachmaninoff. I saw your performance on TV when I was little—the one at the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. You played Sonata No. 2 in B-flat Minor and that was it. I’ve been in love with him ever since.”

“Juli, tell Sasha what you’re playing for your last piece today.” Isaac winks and puts a reassuring hand on the back of my neck.

I blush again and look at the floor. “I’m playing Sonata No. 2 in B-flat Minor, sir.”

“Indeed? What a treat this is! I look forward to it.” His eyes twinkle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the next audition is about to begin, and I mustn’t neglect my duties. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

As soon as he’s out of sight, I turn on Isaac and smack him with the sheet music I’ve twisted into shreds. “Isaac Laroche, you have a lot of explaining to do! Why didn’t you tell me you know Sasha
Rozum
? And you told him about me. And you knew he’d be here!”

Oh, I’m an idiot.

“You knew all along,” I say, “even last night when we went to see him. How could you keep that a secret? I am so going to kill you. When we get out of here—”

“You’re welcome.”

Hands in his pockets, he smiles down at me with what Granny called a shit-eating grin. And I melt.
Right into him.
I’ve gone from smacking him like Forehead Boy to Blondie-the-hugger. R.J. is the only person I ever hug—like,
reall
y hug—on a regular basis, so I expect this to feel foreign. I’m surprised how well I fit into his contours.

He doesn’t push me away. Instead, he wraps his massive arms around me, one around my shoulders—no wincing this time—and one cradles the back of my head. He smoothes my hair and tucks a strand behind my ear. I listen to his heart quicken a little, his breathing even like waves on the shore, and I wonder what’s changed. Why he’s suddenly so comfortable touching me when he’s spent the past eight months pushing me away.

I don’t want to believe it, but a voice that sounds a lot like
hers
echoes in my head. It tells me that when this is over, when I’m done with the audition, he’ll drop me again. He’s only pretending to help me through the next hour. I decide I don’t care. I press my hands into his back, both of us motionless except for Isaac’s thumb occasionally brushing my cheek. Minutes tick by and I’m calmer than I’ve been in months. Hard to believe it’s all an act.

And if that’s true, then why—

“Julianne Casquette?”

I draw in a sharp breath.

It’s time.

It’s time.

It’s time.

“Are you coming in?” I ask Isaac.

“Can’t. Against the rules.”

I nod. The folded note in my pocket makes me smile. Just a little. I can do this.

Isaac squeezes my hand and I enter the Keller Room on shaky legs.

***

I exit the room on even shakier ones, but for an entirely different reason. Isaac leans against the wall directly opposite the door. His arms are crossed in his classic battle stance, though his face is a mask of gentle concern and anticipation.

God, he’s beautiful.

I take five confident strides until there’s only a whisper between us.

“They loved me.”

He smiles and the small movement of his lips displaces what little air separates his from mine. A throat clears behind me and Isaac’s head jerks up. His smile widens.

“Isaac, you did not exaggerate. She is brilliant. Her sonata rivaled mine. I should dock you points, Julianne, for besting me. However, because you admit to being a fan, I’ll let it slide.” Sasha winks and shakes hands with Isaac while I twist a curl around my finger to keep my head from detaching and floating away. “I assume I’ll see you again soon,” he says, first looking at Isaac and then turning to me. “Both of you.”

He walks down the hall, and the two of us watch him go. I turn to Isaac, whose heavily lidded eyes tell me exactly what I want to know.

“Kiss me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Just before our lips touch, he grins and whispers, “No biting this time.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Tell me what they said.”

After a lingering kiss and a shout of “Get a room!” from Forehead Boy, we’re on the train back to the hotel. I hold the pole with the hand of my good arm, Isaac’s hand a good foot above mine. He hovers behind me like a second skin.

“The Bach was fine. So was the Mozart. They thought Sibelius was an unusual choice, but they liked hearing something off the beaten path.”

“And the Rachmaninoff?” His warm breath tickles my ear. The new, gravelly tone of his voice rumbles all the way to my toes, and I lean back into him. He groans.

“I had them eating out of my palm. The model B really handled it well. It was all I could do not to lick the damn thing.”

He closes his eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

I smirk. I thought yesterday was the best day of my life, but today is neck-and-neck. I wonder what else it has in store.

“Isaac, they gave me a standing ovation.
Except Sasha.
He had his head on the table.”

Isaac laughs. “Excellent.”

He spends the rest of the ride nuzzling my neck. When the train stops, he takes my hand and leads me back to the hotel.

“You hungry?”

“No. I should be, but I’m still too keyed up.”

And too nervous about where this is going.

We step into the hotel elevator, and as the doors close, he backs me into a corner and leans down to kiss me again. I giggle. At the last minute, a man in a brown suit shoves his arm through the gap and worms his way in. He blushes when he sees us, punches a button and stares at the floor for the rest of the ride. Isaac doesn’t try to kiss me again, but his hand wanders south from my back.

When the doors open, the man in the suit scurries out. We follow at a slower pace.

Until now, I’ve been on an adrenaline high, soaking up Isaac’s attention like a love-starved puppy. But as we approach our hotel rooms, I have no idea what my next move is, or how I should respond to his. I think of R.J.’s not-so-subtle advice about what I should do with my legs and feel a twinge of guilt.

Turns out I worried for nothing.

“Juli, sorry to do this to you, but I promised Conrad and some buddies I’d meet them for dinner. Said you weren’t hungry, but you’re more than welcome to come with us.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s all catching up to me now. I need to relax for a bit.”

Disappointment settles across his face, and for a moment I reconsider.
No, I need to think.

“Okay,” he says. “See you when I get back?”

“Definitely.”

He raises a hand to my face and brushes my lower lip. Just to be a tease, I bite his thumb. I hear his teeth grind, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the tortured look on his face.

“Go,” I whisper.

I can tell it takes all his self-control to back away. It takes all of mine to not drag him back for more.

Inside my room, I sag against the door. On the floor rests a small piece of paper with my name on it. Inside is a note from the front desk—I had a delivery while out. I call downstairs and in less than a minute, an employee hands me a giant vase of orangey-pink roses. The card says, “Saw these and they reminded me of your hair. See you bright and early, kitten. Love, Dave.”

Crap. Dave. I’m supposed to sightsee with him in the morning before we head back to Mobile, but what I really want to do is figure things out with Isaac. I need to think. And I need to know why he’s so different now.

With Isaac gone and my adrenaline maxed out, I’m exhausted and hyper at the same time. The way my head swims, I’m not sure I can hold it together much longer.

I decide a bath is my best bet. “
There are few things on this earth that a hot bath can’t fix,”
Granny always told me. I strip off my black pants and top and turn on the faucet to full blast. I had the forethought to bring my favorite rose-scented soap. Mama says it smells like an old lady, but I think it’s romantic. The heat and steam loosen the muscles in my shoulder.

When I come out, the whole suite smells like roses, and I’m a good bit calmer than when I went in. I’m drowsy and content. The audition is done.

I slip on the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobe and turn off the lights. I open the curtains wide. It’s night now, but not dark. The lights from the city illuminate the room and cast beautiful arcs of color on the walls, the ceiling, and floor. I watch the tiny cars below and the people who dodge in between. Isaac probably won’t be back for another hour or two.

I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.

I barely hear the faint knock on my door. It takes all of my strength to peel myself off the bed and, even then, I can’t seem to wake up. I straighten the robe and quickly run my fingers through my mess of damp curls. A look through the
peep hole
reveals Isaac with a take-out box, bless his heart.

When I open the door, he pauses for a minute, taking in my appearance. His eyelids droop and he inhales deeply.

“I, uh, I figured you had to be hungry by now.” His gaze slides past me. “Who sent you the flowers?”

“Um, my daddy?”

He makes a face. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Fooled you a couple of times.

He hands me the box and wanders over to read the card. Nervous, I try to change the subject.

“Did you have fun with your friends?”

“Yes. No. Thought about you the whole time,” he drawls. He talks and moves like he’s in
slow-motion
. I feel stuck on fast-forward.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

The way he says it—like a warm balm soothing my frazzled nerves—tells me I have a decision to make. I thought it through during my long bath, and technically, I slept on it during my short nap. The next few minutes will tell me whether or not I made the correct one.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He looks over at the box on the
night stand
, the card still in his hand. He flips it over and over, up and down his knuckles.

“I’m meeting him tomorrow morning.” I nod at the roses.

“I know.”

Charged seconds tick by. I try to read him, but he won’t look at me. Frustration begins to boil under my skin.

“He’s been a good friend to me.”

“Know that, too. Better than I’ve been.”

“In many ways, yes.”
Look at me, dammit.
I want his full attention and I want it now. I won’t settle for anything less. I’ve earned it. I take two hesitant steps toward him and practically choke on the words I’m about to say. “But you know what he’s not?”

He finally puts the card down and looks at me. His gaze lingers where the robe makes a deep V. He doesn’t say it out loud, but there’s a question in his eyes. I hope he’s ready for the answer.

Tell him.

“He’s not a challenge. He doesn’t put me in my place or tell me I can do better. He doesn’t piss me off, doesn’t make me want things I shouldn’t want, and he doesn’t make me
feel
.” I reach out and place a trembling hand on the side of his neck. “That’s
you
.”

My voice wavers at the end. Despite my confession and intimate touch, his expression doesn’t change at all. I made the wrong decision. I withdraw my hand and cradle it against my chest. My heart drops into my stomach and I resist the urge to clutch my robe shut at the neck.

My eyes slip closed and I will away the tears forming there.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

I hear a slight rustling sound. My back hits the cold window before I even know he’s moved.

***

I’d like to say he’s gentle and makes it as easy as possible for me. I do think he tries, at first. But his self-restraint doesn’t last long and there’s no slowing down what we’ve finally,
finally
started.

I’ll be honest, it hurts like hell, but after a while I match him measure for measure. Afterward, he holds me close and apologizes for not taking greater care. We’re both spent, physically and emotionally, so we doze for a while, waking to grumbling stomachs. The food he brought earlier is cold, but I eat it anyway, not wanting to go out or call room service. To open the door would break the seal on what we’ve just done.

Instead, he sets an armchair in front of the window, pulls me into his lap and wraps a blanket around us. We stay like that for most of the night, watching the neon lights fade and the sun come up.

Toward dawn, the questions in my head get the better of me. It’s now the day after. It’s all those things people say after a life-changing experience.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What changed? With me, I mean. When did you…did it become okay?” I brush my finger across his stubble.