Page 42 of I Wish I Would've Told You

I’m convinced that I might’ve played too long, but then they stand on their feet and applaud.

For what feels like forever.

I stand from my chair and hold back tears, taking a short bow.

The conductor steps onto the stage and hands me a massive bouquet of red roses.

“I have a bouquet for your parents as well,” he says. “Tell them to meet me backstage.”

“Okay.” I smile. I don’t tell him that I told them the wrong time on purpose, that I saved myself the heartache and allowed them to serve me excuses for why they didn’t feel like listening to “that string stuff.”

“I know you’re going to the University of Alabama next fall,” he says, “but I’ve written a few letters on your behalf for some other programs I’d love for you to consider. With talent like that, I can only hope that you don’t waste it all on marching with a clarinet.”

He walks away from me and steps to the mic to address the audience.

“Let’s have one more round of applause for Miss Scarlett Crane, please.”

I wave at everyone and bow last time before leaving the stage. After packing my violin and saying goodbye to my fellow orchestra members, I take the alley exit.

Easton is leaning the building outside, holding a bouquet of pink roses and a gleaming silver gift bag.

My heart skips a beat, but I don’t say a word.

I just stare at him.

“Why didn't you tell me about this recital?” he asks.

“Because I didn't want you to come.”

“What did you say?”

“I’ll repeat it,” I say. “I didn't want you to come.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is something that’s mine,” I say. “I don’t have to barter with you on a time and place in the shadows, and I don’t have to share it with Tully.”

“Scarlett…”

“I guess you’re the last to know, though,” I say, my voice cracking. “This is the last Thursday I’ll have to enjoy for a very long time thanks to your girlfriend’s newest sponsorship.”

“Can I take you home so we can talk about that?”

“No. I’m going out to celebrate with my fellow violinists.” I shrug. “Please don’t ruin this memory for me.”

“Wait, Scarlett.” He grabs my hand. “Please let me—”

“Leave me alone, Easton.” I jerk away from him. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

I walk away, leaving him standing in the alley.

14

EASTON

Call me back when you see this.

Why is your window locked?

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