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Steph let out a small scoff. “That’s why you’re here auditioning for the sixth time, and he’s in fucking Paris leading the world’s most famous symphony.”
I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know what Nicolai was doing now. I couldn’t let myself care. If I got this job—if this turned into something real—there was every chance I’d see him again, and I needed to purge everything left inside me that was still attached to him.
The other man just scoffed and walked over, extending his hand to me. “My name is George Mason. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Adamos. I saw you play in Moscow three years ago, and I was completely inspired. Your solo moved me.”
I blinked at him, a little startled because I wasn’t used to being recognized. Ever. I was always Nicolai’s partner, Nicolai’s muse, Nicolai’s project.
Nicolai’s castoff.
I shook his hand, then pulled away when I realized mine were still sweating. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“I doubt you have a reason to be, but it’s an honor to be here with you today,” George said.
Steph side-eyed me, and I knew there was no gaining ground with him. Not with one of my ex’s fanboys. But that was fine. I didn’t need him. I said nothing as he stood up and walked out of the room, and George chuckled softly as he took Steph’s abandoned chair.
“Ignore him.”
“I’m used to it,” I said, picking up my rosin again. I ran my thumb over the delicately carved bridge, and George’s gaze followed the path of my thumb.
“That’s incredibly beautiful.”
I clutched it harder and tried to hide my smile, but it was difficult. “Thank you. It was a gift. He made it for today.”
“He must love you a lot.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that no, that was impossible. We’d never even met face-to-face, and the one time I tried, he couldn’t open the door. But that wasn’t fair to Forrest and whatever he was dealing with.
“It’s…a different relationship than any of the ones I’ve had in the past.”
“Better than that smarmy asshole, I’d wager,” George said, and when I tried to look surprised, he rolled his eyes and laughed. “You can’t fool me, son. I’ve known too many men like Ivanov. Power rammed right up their ass, turning them into monsters. And they always get a pass when they’ve got a pretty face like him. Mediocre talent hidden behind the others around him who do all the work.”
“Why doesn’t anyone else see it?” I asked.
I felt very young suddenly and very lost. I had a lifetime of experience in the handful of years I was with Nicolai, but those paled in comparison to all the years someone like George had actually lived. But why did he see it and no one else could?
“They do,” he said, and my heart sank. “They just don’t care. They’d rather not rock the boat. They figure you can just pick up the pieces when it’s over and move on. They don’t understand…” He trailed off and glanced away. “Was he cruel?”
I shook my head. “Not in the way you think. He just…made me feel small. He made me feel like I’d be nothing without him, and that was the hardest thing to unlearn. I’m still working on it.”
“He was nothing without you, and one day, he’s going to realize that and feel very sorry for what he did,” George said firmly. There was a light tap at the door, and a harried looking woman with long dark braids thumbed over her shoulder, then disappeared. “Looks like it’s time. Please take a breath, Mr. Adamos. You’re going to kill it out there.”
As I rose, I realized that was the first time I’d stepped outside of my little self-imposed bubble and let someone with attachments to my past judge me. And while there would probably be a dozen or more men like Steph who looked at me like I was the sum of my one mistake with Nicolai, there would be more like George.
There would be forgiveness, and grace, and room to find the cellist I was meant to become.
And that’s what saved me from running as I picked up my instrument and followed the path toward the stage.
* * *
My whole bodyfelt like it was shaking, but the only visible tremble was in my fingers. Somehow, I’d managed to hold off the adrenaline and fear and self-doubt until I was finished playing, taking a bow, and walking off the stage.
Then it hit like a freight train.
There had been a handful of people in the audience with the audition panel sitting in the back of the theater, but I couldn’t see any of them with the lights up. Had Forrest come? Was he sitting to the side watching me for the first time?
A smattering of applause followed my set, then a low murmur of voices as I somehow managed to find my way back to the little green room where my case was waiting. It took me several tries to get my instrument back in, and I said a small prayer that no one would interrupt me until I’d collected myself.
I had no idea how it went.
