Page 26 of Not Another Love Song

She went to the chairs set aside for them and started setting up her music, unable to listen as he complained to Ama about her unsuitability.

It wasn’t until she opened her violin case that she realized she was about to play violin in front of Alex Fitzgerald. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get control of her breathing.

She heard the swish of a cello case being unstrapped from a muscular back. Sucking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and turned to him just as he pulled his Ray-Bans off. His gaze was locked on her.

“Um, Ama called me. She said they wanted a violinist on this too,” she explained, as if she were a child caught with her fingers in the cookie jar.

He nodded, and she tried to read his expression. She thought maybe his jaw was tense. Or maybe that was just his jaw. Were his eyes focused on her because he wanted to intimidate her?

“So you said yes to first chair,” he said flatly. He paused, like he’d asked a question she should answer.

“Yes.” She sat and rifled through her music pages. “They offered it to me, and I said yes.”

She listened to him set up, aware of every breath he took, every slide of his fingers over the neck of his nine-hundredthousand-dollar cello. She wanted to ask about “Alex.” She wanted to ask what it was like growing up as Ava Fitzgerald’s child. She wanted to know why he would want to go back to violin after such a successful cello career, why first chair meant that much to him.

“Why?” he asked, and she had to remember what they were talking about.

“I…it’s an incredible opportunity. How could I say no?” His gaze was sinking into hers, burrowing. “Even if I’m just a pretty face on the brochure,” she said, punctuating it with a page turn. He didn’t take her bait. “So, you’ve always wanted to be first chair of an orchestra?” She searched for the accusation, like he was saying he could prove he wanted it more. But it wasn’t there.

“Not always, no. I just want…stability. A career.”

“And you have no interest in standing out? Being special?” He glanced at her, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Her brows drew together. “I will stand out. I’ll have solos as first chair—”

“Having solos doesn’t make you special, Gwen,” he said softly. The sound of her name in his low voice confused her. “It makes you first chair.”

She parsed his words, trying to figure out how much he was insulting her, if at all. Ama interrupted her thoughts.

“Hey!” She was rushing by with an armful of programs. “I know you two didn’t get to rehearse, but you work together already, right? You good?”

Gwen smiled at her. “Yep.” No point in mentioning that, no, Xander Thorne and she didn’t “work together.” Not really.

Ama scurried away, looking like she could really use four extra sets of hands, and Gwen turned her attention to the music binder. If they were really about to do this, she figured she might as well try to make nice.

“Did you practice, or are you just going to wing it?” she asked lightly.

“Did you?” His eyes were bright with something.

“Yeah, I practiced.” She swallowed.

He ran his cube of rosin over his bowstrings, and she watched the vein in his arm pop for absolutely no reason at all.

A soft wind pushed through the cherry trees, and pink flowers rained down softly.

“Is there anything you’d like to go over before the guests get here?” she asked. “What tempo for ‘Marry You’?”

“You tell me, concertmaster.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

And she realized that he was going to let her lead.

Because she was first chair.

Gwen thought her gulp was probably audible. She was so, so glad he wasn’t going to be in her string section next year. This was torment enough.

She set the pace for the Bruno Mars song, and brought her violin up to her shoulder—which was already incredibly tense at the idea that she was about to play violin in front of Xander Thorne. Cello started the arrangement, quick percussive pulls, almost like a bass guitar. Xander’s eyes were on her, not the music, and she hoped that meant he was watching her for tempo.

She came in on top of him as the voice. She would switch with him later, but for now, she was lead, her violin singing as Bruno Mars did. Keeping her eyes glued to the music, she followed the violin line with precision. He kept tempo below her, powering through complicated rhythmic sections.

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