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After practice, he walks me to my room, or I walk back with him to his townhouse which is always empty. I haven’t bumped into his father or Carmela once. Either way, we stay up for the majority of the night wrapped in each other, neither of us getting anywhere near enough sleep before waking back into Belrose the next morning with zero indication of what happens behind closed doors.

If I’m being completely honest, it’s beginning to grate on me.

The secrecy of it all. Keeping this—us, whatever the hell we are, completely hidden from the rest of the world.

I haven’t brought it up. I don’t know how to start that conversation without opening a door that I'm not sure either of us is ready to walk through yet, so I keep tying the bow in my hair, walking through the doors, playing the Nocturne, and pretending that everything is completely fine.

It is fine.

It is also the furthest thing from fine.

Our last session before Christmas break falls on a cold Thursday evening.

We play through the full Nocturne six times in a row. The fifth run through is easily the best we have ever rehearsed—the violin and piano weave together so seamlessly it gives me actual chills. When the final notes slowly die away, Julian rests his hands on the keys, staring at the piano in silence.

“That’s the closest we’ve been,” he says.

“I know.” I lower my violin bow, my shoulder humming from the effort. “We are finally getting there. Thank God.”

He glances at me and smiles.

“But, two weeks without practice is going to set us back,” I state.

“It doesn’t have to,” he offers. “We can rehearse online—run through it separately and then come together. It’s not ideal, but it keeps the momentum going."

I watch him closely. “You’ll have time for that?”

For me.

“Ellise, I’m going back to Greenwich to spend Christmas with Carmela and Mystery.”

“Mystery?” I frown slightly. “Who’s Mystery.”

The corner of his mouth tugs upward. “My horse. I didn’t mention Mystery?”

“You have a horse?” I declare. “Julian. We spent the majority of the time at Greenwich in your bedroom. Talking was a bit limited.”

“True,” he grins, a wicked flash in his eyes. “She’s a gold mare. Bad-tempered and hates everyone on the planet except me.”

“She sounds… delightful.”

“Hey.” He laughs, a genuine warm laugh that fills the room. “She actually is.” He nudges my arm playfully. “Anyway, yes. I will have all the time in the world for online rehearsals over Christmas break.”

“Okay. That works.”

“The showcase doesn’t stop for Christmas, Vance.” He winks, stepping back to grab his leather jacket. “We haven’t put all this work in to fall backwards over a couple of weeks.”

He walks me back to my building.

My corridor is eerily quiet. Most of the students have already gone home for the holidays, and the few remaining are packing. The usual high-stress rush of Belrose has completely dissolved for the winter break.

“When do you leave?” he asks as we reach my door.

“Tomorrow afternoon. My mom needs extra help in the shop before Christmas. Hopefully it will be busy this year.” I glance at him sideways. “You?”

“Monday morning. I’m in no rush.”

Looking up at him in the dim hallway, I feel the crushing weight of what two weeks without him is going to feel like. It’s the exact feeling I’ve been trying desperately to ignore all week.