“What if she doesn’t want you to?”
“Excuse me?” Liam could barely breathe at the suggestion.
“What if she doesn’t want to be your prima donna for the next two years? What if she wants to go sing somewhere else? Or do something else?”
Liam scrubbed his hand over his face. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of the possibility, exactly, especially given her mention of literature programs in New England. It was more that he hadn’t let himself really entertain the idea. He loved her. And he loved his work. And he wasn’t sure he had enough room to love them both the way they needed him to if they weren’t connected, if he couldn’t love herthroughhis work.
“You have to talk to her. Before you go do something stupid like destroy your career trying to play the hero.”
“She’ll never even consider it if his name is on that building. And I wouldn’t ask her to.”
“Liam,” Noah said gently, “whatever he did to her, you aren’t going to fix it like this.”
“I can sure as hell try,” Liam growled.
Noah was silent and Liam didn’t dare look his friend in the eye. He knew Noah had a point. But he also knew Min would never let him take this risk – and he had to. It was the only way he could make sure Aidan Dietrich didn’t taint everything he was trying to create. The only way he could even consider asking Min to stay. And Christ, he wanted her to stay. Heneededher to stay. They had so much more music to create together. He just had to fix it.
Chapter Thirty-two
Just like that, it was tech week. A week of minor wincing from the podium when the chorus still mispronouncedfumée,costume malfunctions when Lucy’s petticoat got stuck on the set behind her, and light cues appearing three bars too late. The music, though, was as close to flawless as it could be, every note ushered into being by Liam’s deft hand at the podium. They were ready.
As Min approached the spiraling high note at the end of theHoffmann, Liam’s voice echoed in her head:Let go, contessa.She found Liam’s eyes as the reds and purples began to flutter at the edge of her vision, and it was as if the note floated out of her, shimmering as it hung in the air. A note as effortless as breathing. On the podium, Liam closed his eyes, but his baton never wavered. She exited the stage barely aware of the whooping filling the theater from her excited castmates, solely focused on the intensity burning in Liam’s gaze.
They still hadn’t talked about her plans for next year, though with each passing day she felt more and more confident in her decision. She had to find a way to tell him, but it was so damn hard when they made music together like it was ripped from their very souls.
Backstage, Min grabbed her costume for theManonand headed for her dressing room. Jeff was already there, holding out a bottle of water for her. The door had hardly closed behind them when he playfully swatted her arm. “Did you see the way Dr. Sexy was looking at you?”
“Can you please stop calling him that?” Min asked, rolling her eyes as she began undressing. “Shouldn’t you be out there?”
Jeff sat on the vanity table on the far wall, his legs swinging. “Nah, they’ve got it covered. I’m not conducting again until theCarmen.”
He watched her, his head tilted to the side, as she carefully hung up the chemise and the robe and began stepping into the voluminous skirt of her next costume. He wanted to say something. She could see it in the way his lips pursed, in the twinkle in his eye, the nervous energy swinging his legs back and forth.
“Just spit it out already!” Min laughed.
“Bobby accepted a spot in the new grad program,” he said, his Cheshire Cat grin so wide it must have hurt.
Min knew how much this meant to Jeff, how hard he’d been lobbying for her and Bobby to join the new grad program with him. “How? What happened to his plan to apply to Michigan with Phoebe?”
Jeff shrugged with feigned indifference. “I guess he’s less sure about Phoebe than he lets on.”
She shook her head. “You always did go for the unavailable guy.” When he didn’t immediately rebuff her, she glanced at him, taking in the swinging feet and the too-innocent look in his eyes, the self-satisfied twist of his lips. “Unless you aren’t telling me something.”
“Nothing to tell. Yet. But there will be.”
She chuckled as she began undoing the back of the dress. “If and when there’s something to tell, you can keep the sordid details to yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun,” he teased.
“So how’d you convince him?” she asked.
“It was all terribly romantic. Just like one of your Shakespeare plays,” he said with a shoulder wiggle.
“Well, he’s got a girlfriend, and most of the characters in those plays die, so maybe notjustlike Shakespeare.”
“Close enough,” Jeff replied. “I just told him I’d miss him, okay? And he said he’d miss me, too, and I said that maybe that meant he should stay.” He was avoiding her eyes, a blush creeping over his cheeks.
Simple as that, she thought. They’d miss each other, so he’ll stay. Why can’t it be that simple for me?
