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I can’t believe I’m sitting here gossiping about what the girls said about me in the car, like I’m twelve years old or something. And I don’t even care. I’ll take any fucking scrap of her I can get, even if it’s regurgitated conversation from when I wasn’t there.
A sound makes both Curse and I turn our heads at the same moment. Deirdre is back, wearing a set of pink silk pyjamas. She’s carrying her violin and bow.
Curse slips silently from the room. The only reason I know he goes is because I hear the door to the hallway click shut behind him.
“What’s all this?” I ask, waving my splinted hand in the direction of her instrument.
“I feel like playing tonight,” she says. “And I figure that I should, since I promised I would last night, anyway. But you fell asleep.”
Maybe she’s had a little water, and her buzz is wearing off a tiny bit. Because, though she’s still flushed and a little looser in her movements than usual, she’s pretty composed as she rests her chin on the violin and raises the bow. As the fingers of her left hand settle in place against the strings, the diamond of her ring catches the light.
She’s still wearing it.
I kind of figured she would have taken it off in the bathroom.
But she didn’t.
She takes a little breath, shakes a bit of hair out of her face, and then begins to play.
The first notes slug me hard, send me sagging back against the pillows. My breathing quickens in time with the rhythm of the song. I don’t recognize it, but it’s beautiful, quick and lilting. Deirdre’s eyes are closed. Her brows twitch with focus. But her mouth is relaxed. Nearly smiling.
This is it. This is what I’ve fucking wanted the whole fucking time. Her. Coming home to me. And playing for me without being asked or told or punished. Because she already knows that she belongs to me.
My eyes swing back and forth from her face to the glint of the ring on her fingers. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t seem to be bothering her while she plays, and that fills me with satisfaction.
It’s been so long since I’ve heard her play. Even longer since I’ve seen her play like this. Unafraid and unselfconscious, spilling her soul out onto the strings. It’s like she’s forgotten that I’m even here.
But I know she hasn’t. Because she said she’s playing for me.
And I want to do so many things at once. I want to lie here and let those notes keep slicing at me until I fucking bleed. I want to get out of bed, put my fingers round her throat, and crash my mouth to hers. I want to fall asleep to her song. I want to never close my eyes again so that I don’t miss a single second of her.
The notes stretch out and slow, and Deirdre seamlessly transitions into a new song. This one is haunting. I don’t recognize this tune either, but it sounds like it could be a lullaby.
I try to keep my eyes open. She’s so fucking pretty when she plays. But I can’t. Now that she’s back I can finally relax, and the enormity of my weakness crashes down on me. It feels like my weight suddenly doubles, like something’s sucking me down against the mattress and pillows. My eyelids slide, and no amount of effort in the world can hold them open.
But I can still hear her. Hear the sad-sweet melody she’s pouring through the air.
Sleep comes for me. And even in that darkness, music follows.
Chapter 25
Deirdre
It’s a couple more songs before I realize Elio’s fallen asleep. When I notice, I immediately cease playing, lowering my bow and my violin to my sides. My arms tingle, and there’s a lightness in me that isn’t just the giddiness of the alcohol. It felt good to play like that. I can’t believe it, but it felt good to play for him.
I thought he’d ruined violin for me, maybe forever. I thought I’d never get back to the heart of it, never be able to love it again. The one talent I shared with my beautiful mother. I thought he’d ripped it away.
But he hasn’t. I actually wanted to play for him tonight. And seeing how relaxed he is, how the slower music helped him fall asleep, makes my chest feel like it’s filled with warm honey.
Quietly, I set the violin and bow down. As I do so, I’m surprised to see something sparkling on my left hand. The ring. I never took it off.
I forgot to. How the hell did I forget to? When Elio gave it to me, I told him I’d only wear it for a little bit. And now, it’s like it’s a part of me. I didn’t even notice it was there.
I should go take it off. And head back to my own bed. Elio is sound asleep, his big, bare chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. I won’t wake him if I leave.
Which I should.
But…
