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23
Weston
Afew days later, my fingers flew across the piano. I was lost in the music, humming the lyrics I’d put to my beat. It wasn’t something that Cosmere would ever sing. Those were exclusively Campbell’s songs, but this was something else. Something important to me.
And something I could currently drive all my anxiety about said band into.
“I like that,” a voice said from behind me.
I cut off playing and found Nora in the doorway to my music room. She was in a white dress with green flowers on it and nude high heels. She leaned her hip against the doorframe and crossed her arms. She’d been swamped with work, and I’d hardly seen her since the championship.
“You’re home early,” I noted.
“Tessi started full-time yesterday. She told me to take the afternoon off,” she explained as she walked over to my upright piano.
“Thank God for Tessi.”
I reached for her, pulling her down into my lap. She laughed but settled into place as I played the simplified chords of the song.
“You’ve played that for me before, haven’t you?”
“I have.” I pressed a kiss into her shoulder. “It’s your song.”
She startled. “My song?”
“Uh-huh,” I said, moving smoothly up the keys and then back down. “I call it ‘Nora’s Melody.’ ”
Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t know I had my own melody.”
“Just something I’ve been working on.”
All the tension left her body, and we sat there, not speaking. I let the music speak for itself. Said all the things about her that I couldn’t get into words. The things that were too tangled up with the fact that I was going back to LA. And that we had an expiration date. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t stop writing about her.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, swiping at her eye. “I’ve never had a song written about me. Does it have lyrics?”
I shrugged. “Something I’m still working on. The keys are easier for me than words. I’ve always understood the music.”
“I can tell. It almost doesn’t need words.”
I moved back up the keys as I came toward the conclusion. When I landed on middle C, the note long and mournful, I pulled my hands back and wrapped my arms around her.
“Can we stay like this?”
She dropped her head back and tilted it to look at me. “If only.”
I drew her mouth to me, pressing down firmly. “What’s your plan for today? A whole afternoon off.”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking of going to see Apple.”
I blinked at her. “Apple?”
She laughed. “She owns the nursery I frequent. She’s probably confused as to why she hasn’t seen me in months.”
“Of course you’re on a first-name basis with the nursery owner.”
“You’d like her.”
“I think you’re right.”
“You could come with me.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “What do I need with a plant?”
She came to her feet and rolled her eyes at me. “What? Would you rather mope in this room the rest of the day?”
“Ouch.”
She wasn’t wrong. I had been moping. I’d been moping all week since Campbell had gone back to LA without me. He said he had some stuff to work out with the band. I offered to go with him, but he said that he didn’t need me. And I’d tried not to flinch at those words.
They’d needed me for so long. Michael had left the band, and I was the one who had stepped up to make sure Campbell’s vision was realized. I’d recorded with them. I’d played with them in New York City. And now, I wasn’t needed. It brought out the darker side of my personality to know that my art had been good enough, and now, it wasn’t.
Nora had told me that wasn’t at all the case, and a part of me knew that she was right. I was self-aware enough to know that I was dealing with imposter syndrome. It didn’t make any of it any easier.
She dropped her hands to my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just so sad.”
My hands returned to her hips, drawing her back into me. “I’m an artist. Sad is when I work best.”
“I guess so. I don’t like to see you like this.”
“And a plant will fix it?”
She laughed and nodded. “It works for me.”
