She took a deep breath and another step away from him. He was losing her. She was disappearing right in front of his eyes and he didn’t know how to stop it. Why couldn’t he stop it?
“I have one more night,” he said, raising his voice over the waves and the wind.
“What?”
“You promised me one more night. You’re still mine until we get back to New York.”
“Noah—”
“Please, Callie.”
She searched his eyes and he hoped she could see all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say. He needed this last night. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—but maybe it would be sufficient to convince her to give him another night. And another. He’d spend every day convincing her to give him one more night if that’s what it took.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. He held out his hand to her and she took it, letting him lead her back up to the reception where they danced every song as if they were the only people in the room, clinging to each other until the very last note had died away.
Chapter 25
“What are we doing here?” Callie asked as Noah led her into the deserted hotel restaurant. The room was dark, the chairs stacked on top of the tables sending long shadows across the floor.
Callie’s feet ached and her lower back was tight in a way that meant she’d have difficulty walking properly tomorrow, but she hadn’t wanted to leave the reception. They’d danced until her legs burned, and when she could no longer dance, she’d sat wrapped in his arms. She needed to hold him close enough that the memory would last after he’d left.
When he kissed her hair and stroked her arm, she told herself that he would come back to her; when the film was complete, he would come home, and they could start again. But she wasn’t sure if she believed it. After all, he’d only agreed to this arrangement in the first place because there was a deadline. As much as it hurt to say goodbye now, it would hurt so much more if they stayed together and he one day looked at her with regret.
“I need to show you something,” he said, flipping a light switch at the edge of the room. A small spotlight lit up above the baby grand piano.
Normally Callie would be excited to hear Noah play, but just then she wasn’t sure she could handle it. The music that had brought them together all those years ago was now taking him away from her. And she was emotionally and physically wrung out. They only had a few hours left and she didn’t want to waste a second.
“Noah, I’m tired.”
He guided her to a wingback chair at the edge of the makeshift stage and directed her to sit. “Just give me a minute.”
She sighed and sank into the chair, letting the fabric bolster her sore muscles. Noah took a seat on the piano bench, the light glinting off the chestnut highlights in his hair, sharpening the angles of his jaw and cheekbones with harsh shadows. He raised the lid on the keyboard and lay his hands on the keys, hesitating for just a moment as he shot her a glance from beneath his long eyelashes.
“It’s a work in progress,” he said. “Just something I’ve been playing with.”
She nodded, determined to be supportive no matter how tired and sad she was.
His fingers drifted over the keys, caressing them in a fluid dance that he always made look so effortless. As he played, he cast furtive glances her way, his eyes soft, those faint laugh lines at the edges crinkling.
It took a minute for her to recognize the melody, the gentle sway of the pitches buoyed by a tinkling accompaniment. Like floating. Like falling.
Her mouth dropped open as he played for her, her breathing coming faster, and tears forming in the corners of her eyes. His hands moved faster, seamlessly transitioning into a second theme, the two melodies combining and overlapping. Like waves crashing onto the shore, continuous, relentless. Cleansing.
She slid onto the bench beside him, needing to see each depression of the keys beneath his fingers. Somehow the songs that had played in her head for so long were now reverberating throughout this darkened space, blending with the moonlight until none of it felt real. She’d never thought she’d get to hear these melodies aloud, to see the notes hanging in the air as he wove the music—her music—around them.
The last note rang out in the empty room. Noah lifted his hands from the keys and slid his foot off the pedal. They sat for a moment, both staring at the gleaming white and polished black of the keyboard.
“How?” she asked.
“You’re always humming.” He glanced at her with a sheepish smile. “I wrote it down for you.”
“I can’t play it.”
“Maybe not. But you can still write.” He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her attention from the silent piano to him. “Those things we said we would do someday? You can still do them, Callie.”
“You wrote my song,” she marveled. “Why?”
“Because I love you.”
