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The living room is dark too, and for a moment, my chest constricts with the fear that Grigory might have gone home after all. It’s not like him to go to bed this early.
But then I make out the form lying on the couch and release a loud breath.
“Come here,” he says, startling me.
I only need a second to recover before I scurry across the floor and crawl under the blanket he holds up in invitation. There’s only just enough room for us, but I don’t care. When Grigory wraps his arms around me, everything inside me settles, and I quickly fall asleep again—this time, a calm, deep sleep.
— CHAPTER 31 —
CLARA
I stir awake from steps thudding against the living room floor.
“You need to get up,” Grigory says.
I rub my eyes and look up to find him watching me from across the room. His hair is wet, jaw clean-shaven, and his fingers are working on the sleeve buttons on his white shirt.
I frown a little. Judging from the light drifting through the curtains, he should have already been out for his morning walk and coffee. But it seems my unsettled state has bent Grigory’s routine.He’s not entirely superhuman, after all.
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight. We’re leaving in half an hour. You don’t need to worry about breakfast, but you do need to get up now.”
“Where are we going?” I say with a sleepy grunt.
“I have a meeting at nine, then rehearsals. In the meantime, you’ll practice piano in my office, so remember your sheet music.”
“Can’t I just practice here?” I did like coming with him yesterday, but the idea of getting up right now is less than attractive, and I think he could do with a break from me and my gloom.
“No,” he simply says.
Still, I try to talk him out of it. “I’m good to stay here today. Yesterday was just a bad day. I hadn’t slept. I’m better now, so you don’t need to worry.” I force a smile in an attempt to drive my point home, but I don’t think it’s very convincing, and it probably wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
“Out of the question,” he says with a sudden bite. “You’re coming with me. End of discussion.” With that, he leaves the room, and I’m left staring after him, stunned by his sudden change of mood.
***
Once I’m in his office and he’s left for his meeting, I’m more than happy he shut down my protests and brought me here. I might feel better today, but that doesn’t mean I feel good. Far from it.
My body isn’t shivery like yesterday, but my very foundation feels shaky, and anxiety started creeping in on me the moment Grigory left. It scares me. I’m so frail I can’t handle being alone, and I think the only thing holding me together is being here in Grigory’s office, feeling close to him.
I have a hunch that’s why he ordered me to come with him this morning—he knew being here would stabilize me.
But when he returns from his rehearsal, I start to think there might be more to it.
The first thing he does when he enters the room is come straight for me. I’m a bit surprised when he lifts me from the piano bench with a grave expression and carries me through the room. Settling on the couch, he curls me up in his lap and envelops me in his arms. But it’s not a normal embrace, hands gently caressing and muscles relaxing. No, Grigory actively holds on to me, like he’s afraid I’ll slip out of his hands if he relaxes for just a second. It’s almost like he needs me close as much as I need to be close to him.
We sit like this without saying a word, him clasping me and me clinging to him. The only sound is our hard breaths and the faint hum of traffic from the street below. It’s sort of peaceful, yet achingly emotional. I don’t ever want it to end, and Grigory doesn’t seem to want it to either.
With a reluctant sigh, he finally eases his grip on me. “I need to work. But I can get the rest of it done from here. I’ll have my secretary order us some lunch. You can play the piano or read if you’d like. You’re welcome to scour my shelves for sheet music if you need something new.”
I nod eagerly. “I’d like that.” I’ve been eyeing those shelves the last few times I’ve been here, wanting to inspect them further. Plus, I could really do with some new music after barely having played anything but my four audition pieces for half a year.
I end up picking a Debussy piece I’ve wanted to play for a long while. It’s his Prelude from “Suite Bergamasque.” I probably should continue with the piece I started the other night when I couldn’t sleep, but it reminds me too much of the hollow emptiness I felt that night, so I start from scratch with this piece instead.
We spend several hours in his office. A middle-aged woman with a kind smile brings us lunch early in the afternoon, and we both eat at his desk, him typing away on his laptop while I read. Then I start working on the Debussy piece at the piano.
Grigory clearly can’t help himself, shooting comments my way as I go. I think I become quite the little distraction for him. He ends up joining me at the piano, teaching me the techniques I should use and helping me find the right fingering.
