Page 40 of Not Another Love Song

“Yep.” She grinned and patted her tote bag. “Just finished.”

His eyes locked on her bag, and for some stupid reason, she dragged the binder out and flipped it open. Like he wouldn’t believe her, so she felt the need to show him.

His head tilted at the first pages, trying to read it upside-down. He looked up at her, asking silently. Gwen turned the binder around and extended her work toward him, like a third grader with an apple.

His fingers slipped through the music, dragging over the staves and pausing on the rests. She felt his breath syncing with the bow markings, inhaling on the ups, exhaling the downs. He turned a page and paused, blinking down at the place she had erased the up and replaced it a measure later. The ghost of that decision was still on the pages in lead smudges.

“What made you second-guess yourself?” he mumbled, flipping back to the previous page and tracking the full progression again.

This couldn’t be happening. Three people—all incredible musicians, all interconnected with Gwen as the axis—all of them fixating on the same point in the music. She echoed Ava’s reasoning back to him.

“It supports the next phrase better. It’s much easier for the full group to play the allegro.”

His eyes glanced at her before returning to the page. “My mother has already looked at this.”

Her breath caught. “Yeah, we met this afternoon.” Gwen shifted her bag on her shoulder. “She mentioned that most violinists appreciate a breath before an allegro—”

He chuckled, eyes still on the page. “Most violinists, maybe. But the Manhattan Pops is supposed to employ violinists of a certain quality, right?” He scoffed. “Can’t get twenty-two well-trained musicians to all swing their bows at the same time?”

She bit back a grin, feeling a spark of satisfaction in her veins. Alex Fitzgerald would have agreed with her markings. But she also wondered what reason he had to help her. Maybe he wasn’t helping her. She felt suddenly antsy to get the binder back before he had the opportunity to sabotage her. She gestured for it, and he gave it back.

She fumbled it into her tote bag. It was silent for a moment too long, until they spoke over each other.

“When is the gig—?”

“What are you—? Sorry.”

“Sorry.” She winced and watched him push his hair back, taking a deep breath. “When is the gig?” she repeated.

He stared at her for a moment before replying, “Saturday, but we’re here early for rehearsals.”

She nodded. “That sounds big. Very exciting.” She shifted her bag on her shoulder. “What’s…where is it?”

“492 and 493!” She jumped as the cook tossed their bags on the pickup counter. Xander grabbed both of them.

She reached for hers, about to thank him again and run. Something fluttered in her stomach at the idea that they could hold civilized conversations more often.

“How long are you in town for?” The instant the words were out of her mouth she flushed such a violent shade of magenta, she could almost feel steam rising off her.

She bravely met his gaze and sank into his eyes as they watched her, flicking over her collarbones and lips and that place on her jaw she’d just imagined him kissing.

“We head back to Florida on Sunday.” He was still staring at her like there was a riddle to solve and he was running out of time to solve it.

Nodding, Gwen smiled up at him. “Well, thank you for the tacos.” She took one step toward the exit, and then her body turned back without her permission. “What are you doing right now? Do you want to hang out? Or jam for a bit?”

She felt like a violin string, vibrating. His eyes slid over her, and in the silence, she considered walking into the ocean and never returning.

“That’s…Sorry, that was weird. I don’t even have my violin—”

“I have a violin,” he said quickly, seeming like he wanted to step toward her, but stopped himself. “Electric, though.” His gaze was bright. Eager.

Swallowing, she said, “I’ve never played an electric.”

His lips pressed together, and she listened as he took a measured breath. “Would you like to?”

CHAPTER TEN

They walked fifteen blocks to his apartment. He held her tacos for her. Gwen felt like there was a battle waging in her stomach. She was no longer hungry at all, just…nauseated.

---