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“She does.” I reply.

“She looks at you like you’re her own prince. How long has she lived with you?”

“Since I was three. She left Italy, probably with the view of going back eventually, but she never did. She stayed. She never left me.” I pause, the weight of the last twenty-odd years settling heavy in my chest. “After Mum died, I don't know what I would have done without her. My father completely checked out, and Carmela stepped up. For years, she’s told me that I’m her son. I wouldn’t be standing here without her.”

Ellise shifts in her chair, her hand moving over mine on the table.

My mind drifts back to her quiet confession in the car.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of peace settles in my chest. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m fighting or running away from anything.

I squeeze her hand, as I lean in to kiss her, delicately on the lips.

“You’re a good man, Julian Thorne,” she murmurs. “Even when you try your absolute best to hide it.”

“Don’t go spreading rumours, Bow-Peep,” I say with a cheeky smile. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Too late.” She laughs softly, squeezing my hand back. “I’ve already seen who you are deep down, and what's hiding behind the armour.”

39

Ellise

This is the last time.

The last time that I will ever meet Julian Thorne at six o’clock to practice the Nocturne that has, quite literally, been our main focus for the past three months.

After tonight, the piece doesn’t belong to this room anymore. It belongs to the stage. It gets handed over to a packed auditorium to scrutinize, but for the first time ever, I’m not terrified. The private sanctuary we built between these four walls isn’t ending. It’s expanding. We’re stepping out there, together.

I pause outside the door for a brief second, a giddy fluttering in my chest. The corridor is quiet, as it always is at this time when the official schedules wrap up and the building shifts into something private.

When I finally push the door open, Julian is already at the Steinway like he always is, waiting for me.

He is sitting on the bench with his forearms resting on his thighs, his jacket tossed on a chair, exposing the dark ink spanning his forearm. The piano keys curling toward his wrist, the music scores winding between roses towards his elbows.

Roses for Roseanna.

For his mom, Rose.

I know every curve of those tattoos now.

I would have loved to meet Rose. She sounds so much like my dad from what Julian has shared with me. They were both the kind of people who gave everything for their children, fiercely protective and encouraged them to the end. His mom was his anchor, the exact same way my dad was mine.

Julian looks up, his intense, dark eyes finding mine.

The heavy, guarded walls that used to make him look so intimidating are completely gone when he looks at me now.

“Hi, Bow-Peep,” he says, his voice a raspy rumble.

“Hi.” I grin, closing the door behind me.

There’s no awkward friction tonight, no agonising silence thick with unsaid feelings. We’ve already laid our cards on the table.

He’s mine. I'm his. The sheer confidence radiating between us feels intoxicating.

I open my case and begin tuning my violin. Julian watches me, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous intensity I’ve come to crave. I lift the instrument to my chin as he drops his long fingers to the keys.

We play the Nocturne once, just once.