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It was the work of a second to push Jules out of the way, to sit down in front of the piano. Jules said something, but Billie ignored it and then Jules was pushing music in front of her. As though she needed it. She’d heard this stupid damned song a thousand times. She could probably play it in her sleep.
With strong, confident fingers, she found the first chord, shifted it down three keys so that the whole song would be lower and gentler and waited for her cue.
WHEN IT WAS over, Billie felt herself fill up with warmth. What had she been so worried about? Why had she ever thought that she couldn’t do this again, that she couldn’t play, couldn’t share what was inside her with others?
It was a relief, almost, like she’d been carrying around a stupid suitcase and had finally had the sense to put it down.
Cora wasn’t wrong. Billie knew that, she’d known for ages. She wasn’t good enough, not in a way that would put her on TV and on stage. But she had music in her, she just had to find her own way of sharing that.
Alea was still singing, her voice melodic and husky in a way that made the hair on Billie’s arms stand on end. When she stood up, she could see Jules at the bar, her eyes almost closed, swaying to the music, then turning and talking and laughing with a man next to her.
Billie smiled sadly to herself. She hadn’t got nothing from this little affair. Her confidence to play had started to return. She’d even, in a way, started to make a home in Whitebridge. But she had lost something too.
She’d lost Jules’s irritating smile, her annoying skin, her disturbing scent. She could see though that Jules was at home here. She could see that Alea was a better choice. How couldn’t she be? That voice, those eyes, the way she moved to her own music.
Billie sat down again, keeping herself hidden behind the piano, waiting until Alea’s voice trailed off and the smattering of applause came.
“You’re not Jules.”
Billie lifted an eyebrow at the face that had popped up over the piano. “That’s a rather obvious statement.”
“Why didn’t Jules play?” Alea asked, frowning.
Billie took a breath and blew it out. “I think you’d have to ask her that.”
Alea bit her lip but nodded. “Alright, I suppose. I mean, I should be thanking you, you did an amazing job, you hit it just right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Billie said.
Alea smiled. “Fancy finishing up the rest of the tour with me and the band?”
Billie laughed and shook her head. “No, but thanks for the offer.” Alea looked over toward the bar and Billie stood up, resting her arms on the top of the piano. “She loves you, you know?”
Alea turned back to her, eyes wide. “She does?”
Billie shrugged. She wasn’t sure why she’d said anything at all, why she was shooting herself in the foot, except that she did want Jules to be happy, she did want whatever came next for her to be a good thing.
Amelia had said that Jules would need taking care of, that she would break one day when she realized her mother wasn’t coming back. Billie wasn’t sure she was the person to take on that responsibility. But then, she wasn’t sure Alea was either.
“She’s not as strong as she seems,” Billie said now.
“I can tell that,” said Alea slowly.
Billie blew out another breath. This was more difficult than she’d imagined. “Um, so, do you like her back?”
Green eyes searched her face and Billie could see the honesty when Alea simply said, “I don’t know.”
“You should make up your mind then,” said Billie sharply. “She’s not to be toyed with.”
Which made Alea frown again until a look of understanding came over her face. “You like her.”
Billie sniffed. “I think our time is done.”
“What makes you say that? I mean, Jules came racing to my rescue, but I assume you’re here for a reason. Which as it turned out was lucky for me.”
“I drove,” said Billie.
“And now what? You’re just going to walk away from someone you obviously have feelings about without talking to them first? That seems… immature.”
