When the hall is filled, a violin player enters the stage. Everyone applauds, so I do too. But I don’t see June. They go through some tuning thing before the conductor comes on the stage and the concert begins.
I scan the program and there’s a picture of June.Dang, she’s so stunning. All I can do is wait patiently for her performance. When the moment arrives, I take a deep breath as she steps onto the stage in a long dress that could double as a wedding gown, the color of champagne. Delicate straps of lace and pearls. Her hair is partially pulled up with locks framing her face. Earrings matching the pearls on her dress. She flows with grace, sitting in a chair center stage, poised posture as her body molds to the cello.
When the applause ends, she looks to her right and smiles. I wonder if her parents are at the opposite end, recipients of that smile. As she settles back into her stance, composing herself, her gaze slides along the front row like an afterthought, like she’s not really focusing on the people in the chairs. But her eyes backtrack, landing on me. Her lips part, a tiny line forms on the bridge of her nose as she ever so slightly squints.
I don’t make a big deal of the moment, keeping my smile as subtle as her expression. She closes her eyes, inhaling while bringing the bow to the strings. The song is “Serenade” (Schubert).
One song.
One performance.
A standing ovation.
She takes a bow, leaving me in awe and breathless.
After the show, I crane my neck to see her parents past the sea of people funneling toward the exits. I see Henna’s long, blond hair and Bodhi behind her, but they’re on the opposite side.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” I shoulder past people in front of me, eliciting a few rude comments. By the time I make it to the exit where her parents were, they’re nowhere in sight.
I step to the side, behind one of the ushers, and text June.
Flynn: I need to see u. Where are u?
She doesn’t answer, so I call her, but she doesn’t have a mailbox set up. I shove my phone into my pocket and stab my fingers into my hair, turning in a slow circle and scanning every inch of the crowd. Every door. Every corner. She has to be here, or she’s leaving. Why would she stay?
I find the nearest exit and jog around the building’s perimeter. In a loading dock, Henna climbs into a black SUV with June and Bodhi behind her.
“June!” I call, jogging toward the vehicle.
Bodhi squints, and June says something to him. He kisses her forehead and climbs in the back seat. Her bodyguard shuts the door, standing in front of it with his hands crossed.
I slow my stride as I approach her because she’s not giving me a smile or any sort of vibes that she’s happy to see me. She’s in a simple black sundress instead of her performance gown.
“You were incredible tonight,” I say.
She frowns, looking so sad. “You’re here,” she murmurs looking sadder by the second. “Listen, I don’t know why you came all this way, but my rich parents and even richer grandma are waiting for me in this expensive SUV. We’re driving back to our mansion in Beverly Hills. Back to our life where we don’t have to worry aboutcaring for anything that matters.”
I drop my head. “June …”
“I can’t do it, Flynn. I can’t magically not be wealthy, even if I tried. And I’m not complaining. I’m sure that seems like a real privileged problem to have. It’s just …” She shakes her head.“Since you found out about my life, I feel constantly judged, like I’m walking around on eggshells. If I offer to pay for something, if I enjoy eating at a nice restaurant, wearing a pretty dress … it’s all wrong in your eyes. I know love takes work, and it’s not always easy, but this is too much.”
“June, I’m sorry?—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t be sorry. Not wanting to lose who you think you are and what matters most to you is not a flaw. I don’t want you to change who you are to fit into my world, and you shouldn’t want me to change to fit into yours. Our time was perfect, until it wasn’t. But that’s life, right? Moments that become memories. I like our memories together, and I don’t want anything to ruin them. That’s why I think it’s best if we let go before anyone gets hurt.”
“Hurt? June, I quit my job, got on a plane for the first time in my life, and came her for youbecauseeverything fucking hurts without you.” I take a step backward as if putting space between us will keep me from losing control of my emotions. “I know I’m an idiot. A fool. A coward. And a cruel asshole with a past that’s left me bitter toward a lot of people, maybe the whole world. But I just …” I lace my fingers behind my head and stare at the night sky. “God, I’m terrible with words. I just …”
I’m losing her, and I hate it. But maybe I deserve it.
“I love you.” I let my arms fall to my sides. “I know that’s not original, and it probably means nothing because I’ve already said it. But I’ve never said those words to anyone … and I mean anyone before you. Not a mother or father. No siblings. No family. Not a pet. Not even a fucking imaginary friend.” I hold my fist at my head and slowly shake it. “I love you. And I don’t know why you would love me because there is nothing special about me, but you said those words to me and …”
Fuck …
I pinch the bridge of my nose. No. I’m not going to cry. Not now. Not with that guy standing a few feet behind her. Not with her parents probably looking at us out the tinted window.
“No one,” my voice cracks and I swallow hard, “has said those words to me.” I take another step backward.
She wipes tears from her face, unbothered by anyone seeing her. That’s probably normal. Sharing emotions.Feelingdeeply. I fucking hate feeling anything. But here I am, feeling everything.
