My eyebrows raised at her abrupt stop. “An asshole?”
“Your words.”
“Your thoughts,” I said.
“To me, it feels like you’re trying to make them respect you. But there’s a chance you’re pushing people too far the other way. People aren’t bending. They’re about to snap.”
“They need to be better.” Heat crawled up my neck.
“I understand a little bit more now.” She gestured to my face. “Because you want to…”
“Get to the point, Christine.” I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them, but if she were about to lecture me about presenting a different face to the world, the hypocrisy had to be pointed out.
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be anything you’re not. But let them see your humor. It might get you better results. There’s talks of people—”
“I know what they say about me. And I couldn’t care less. They have no power. They don’t like things the way they are, they can leave. I’m not changing who I am to make them more comfortable. They’re all replaceable.”
A look of hurt crossed her features. “Me too? If I left, you’d easily replace me?”
I went to the cabinet for a glass. “This isn’t about you. You committed to me. To this September showcase. If you can’t handle the pressure, tell me now before we go any further.” I filled the glass of water and immediately chugged it down.
“So quick to anger.” She shook her head, still leaning against the counter. “I’m not saying that. But treating people like they’re instruments, and not living, breathing, feeling humans will only make them hate you.”
My heart hammered in anger. A horn sectioned blared in my ears.
I growled. “Being funny and wearing a mask are sort of contradictory.”
Her gaze moved to my fisted hands before she looked up at me through her lashes. “You don’t have to wear the mask.”
“I think you’re forgetting, I’m the Maestro. The conductor and the composer. Sorry if I made you think anything else.”
Her face drained of color. “I haven’t forgotten. Not for a second.”
Chapter 18
Luck is timing and preparation.
KIM
Our next practice was considerably less awesome.
My comments about his behavior had gone too far. I regretted relaxing so much around him. The veil between here and symphony rehearsal often felt so thin I forgot it was still there. My thoughts flowed so freely. I shouldn’t have made comments about who he should be in rehearsal. So many lines were crossed this weekend.
We rehearsed and I did my best. When we got to the area I had mentioned working on, I had lost the courage to bring up my suggested changes. There was disappointment on his face, but I didn’t have the emotional energy to defend myself.
I didn’t get any feedback when we broke around nine that night. It had been a long time since I’d played that many hours in one day and my body felt it. And though it would make sense that my body would be exhausted, I was filled with anxious energy after dinner—cold cut sandwiches. Separately. He shook off my invitation to share a meal under the pretense of having calls to make. Maybe that was true, but it likely came back to boundaries. Message received.
My body hummed with extra energy that needed to be dispelled. Between the storm trapping us in the house, the rehearsal, and that massage earlier—which I absolutely refused to think about—my mind felt like a caged bear. But not the peaceful sleeping kind; more like the kind left starving and with a raw steak just out of reach.
I went in search of adventure.
The halls of the house were endless. Every turn down a new hall led to more empty rooms and closets. And yet, not a home gym in sight. A body like Devlin’s in a house like this had to have one.
“Can I help you?” His deep, brusque tone cut through the air.
A yelp escaped me. My hand shot back from the door handle to the next room. It was as though he’d materialized by my thoughts alone. Thank God, I didn’t actually have that super-power, or he’d pop up embarrassingly often.
“I was looking for a gym. Since I’m stuck here another night, I need to work out,” I said, sounding short to my own ears and with just a pinch of salt. It wasn’t his fault we were trapped another night and yet …
