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It’s that fury I’m feeling when I sit in front of the piano and rest my fingers on the keys, when I begin to play a fast-paced and bitter song—the noise angry and full of dangerous intent.
I don’t even know what song I’m playing. It’s certainly not one I’ve ever heard or written before. My fingers seem to be moving of their own accord, tapping out a quick-paced, angry melody.
I close my eyes and begin to sway as I allow all my pain, rage, and grief over the past few months to pour into this one piece. But then the music turns softer, almost gentle, when I think about my guys.
They saved me.
Loved me.
Forged me into the woman I am today.
This time, the music could best be described as a love song, each note representing a different guy.
Landon.
Powerful and domineering.
Dominic.
Sweet, soft, and gentle.
Ryker.
Dark, angry, but rife with passion.
Beckett.
Slow and sensual. Maybe even a little bit lively.
Zane.
Playful and fast-paced.
Mania.
Mine.
My fingers slow as the song comes to an end, and I feel open and raw. Vulnerable. I don’t even realize I’ve begun to cry until I blink away the tears in my eyes.
I lock gazes with Dominic first, surprised to find that his own eyes are glossy. He knew exactly who my song was meant for.
Harvey’s voice has me reluctantly peeling my gaze off Dom to focus on him. He’s on his feet, clapping erratically, a wide smile on his face. “Bravo! Bravo!”
Bravo? Really?
Who the heck says bravo in real life?
“That was incredible,” Harvey gushes, stepping toward me. “You truly are as incredible as everyone says you are.”
Everyone says I am?
I don’t miss the strange phrasing of that statement, and neither does Dom. His brows scrunch together as he considers his father.
But before he can ask any questions, Dana is stalking forward like a damn leopard, her chin hefted imperiously and her eyes glacial.
“If it’s show-and-tell, then I have a new song I want to play for you, darling.” She flashes Harvey a sugary-sweet smile and then smoothly slides onto the bench, very purposefully knocking against me in the process. But she’s given me the exact excuse I’ve needed to get the heck out of here.
“I’m going to head to the bathroom,” I say, blurting the only excuse I can think of. Before anyone can answer, I hurry down the hall and push open the first door I find. Thankfully, it’s a bathroom, and I don’t waste any time slamming the door closed.
