Page 13 of Not Another Love Song

“They didn’t give you a plate? What kind of a cheap ass— I’m not talking to you, Jeremy, so you can turn around and sit your ass back in the trumpet section where you belong. Was the wedding dress pretty at least?”

Gwen quickly replied while she could. “Gorgeous. Gorgeous everything. A mansion in Jersey. I think there were swans in a pond.”

“Jeremy! Did you have a wedding at your house this weekend? Gwen says she played at some asshole’s mansion.”

Gwen laughed, about ready to leave Mei to her terrorizing, or flirting—whatever she called it—when the door to the studio was yanked open and Xander Thorne strolled in, Ray-Bans on, cello case on his back. She checked the clock: 9:54.

When she glanced back at him, his head was turned to the violin section, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses still. Gwen sidestepped until she was concealed between the trombones and peeked over Mei’s shoulder while she ranted at Jeremy.

Xander got to his chair and took off his glasses. His eyes roved over the violins, searching. Gwen’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“You sick?”

She turned quickly to Mei. “Sick?”

“You’re flushed.” She clapped a hand to Gwen’s forehead and then her cheek. “And warm. Girl, don’t get me sick.”

“Then stop touching me,” Gwen said, slapping her away. “I’m not sick.”

Their rehearsal assistant raised a hand at the front of the room and called out, “Five minutes, folks.”

Gwen still needed to rosin her bow and tune. She walked swiftly back to her chair, refusing to look up to see if Xander Thorne had spotted her. Going through the motions of setting up her music and unpacking her instrument, she focused on the tuning throughout the room, keeping her eyes down.

Nathan Andrews stood from the rehearsal table and called out, “Welcome, everyone! Good morning.” Murmured greetings sounded from around the room. Gwen lifted her eyes and smiled.

He was an energetic and captivating man in his fifties, thin but round-faced, giving him the appearance of someone much younger. He’d swept into the Manhattan Pops fifteen years ago, fresh off reshaping the Seattle Symphony, and immediately started turning a profit for the Pops. There was old gossip about Ava and Nathan’s torrid romance in the early days—apparently Ava hadn’t been completely divorced, and Nathan hadn’t been completely single—but Gwen didn’t pay any attention to it. It wasn’t her business.

“Did everyone have a good weekend? Anything exciting to report?” He rubbed his hands together and glanced around with bright eyes.

Gwen waited for the inevitable moment. And not a second later, Diane waved a hand two rows ahead of her and shared the news of her family reunion that got rained out that past Friday. Rubbing her brow, Gwen exchanged a look with Mei of utter boredom. Any opportunity Diane had to discuss her weekend, her diet, her disdain for certain TV shows—she took it.

While Nathan politely moved the conversation along, Gwen looked over at the cellos by accident.

Xander Thorne was watching her.

She looked down at her music, pretending to fuss with the pages, and kept her eyes from wandering. She focused on the sound of the orchestra coming together as one, the way the music fell warm and heavy on her skin. The way her violin strings sang with the others, responding to a call from the trumpets, laughing with the piccolos, humming with the violas.

But every time she glanced at Nathan or Ava, Xander Thorne was in her line of sight. It was normal to see him during rehearsals—as first cello he sat directly across from Ava—but she usually didn’t have to wonder if he could see her. When his gaze was locked on the violins, was she just imagining that he was looking past Ava to the fourth row? Gwen felt her shoulders creeping up toward her ears, a sure sign her playing was tensing up.

After working the difficult string section a few times, Nathan said, “Excellent. Excellent. I think I’m hearing too much bass. Ava?”

Gwen watched Ava nod. “Agree. Xander, pull them back. And remember to watch me for cues. I’m not just decoration over here.”

The strings chuckled, and Gwen cracked a smile. She glanced at Xander. He didn’t agree or take the note with a “thank you.” His lips were tight, and his expression was petulant as he stared back at Ava.

“Thank you, everyone,” Nathan said, clapping his hands together in the signal they’d come to know as “rehearsal dismissed.”

As Gwen packed up, she remembered that Ava wanted to meet with her, and her nerves started dancing in her stomach. She was slow to put her violin away, careful with her music, and downright sloth-like in repacking her tote bag.

“You play differently at the Pops.”

She looked up at the deep voice. Xander Thorne stood next to her chair, his cello packed away and his Ray-Bans unfolding between his callused fingertips. Her stomach did a not-so-fun flip-flop thing as she not only realized that he was watching her play, but also that he had hung around to tell her.

She took in his comment and was grateful he’d seen her play the instrument she’d been well trained in for a change.

“Thank you,” she said, all other vocabulary leaving her.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He slipped his sunglasses on, grabbed his cello case, and turned to the door.

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