Page 175 of Pervade London
“I’m sorry for my part, too,” admitted Kitty. “When you’re dealing with situations of this sort, there’s bound to be a few bumps in the road.”
These were not bumps, these were craters.
“It’s good to talk.” Xavier pulled a chair back for her. “Want a beer, Kit?”
Her hesitation gave her away.
“You can’t drink can you?” I pushed away from the table and walked by her. “Because you’re on duty.”
I headed up to bed.
“Emily.” Xavier called from the bottom of the stairs.
He ran up the steps and closed the gap between us. “Listen, I want our life to be like a meditation. As enlightening as it is peaceful.”
“I want that, too,” I whispered.
“I just wanted to say that,” he whispered. “Before tomorrow.”
Tomorrow…the day I’d missed that all important concert.
“Go to bed.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I’ll join you soon.”
As I made my way down the hall to our bedroom, his words resounded in my head like a prayer.
Penn-Rhodes peered at me over his round-rimmed glasses. “You’re going to have to help me understand, Emily.”
His office was tucked away in the rear of the music department. I wondered how he could bear such a small room—though most of his time he was out teaching in the classroom. He graded papers in here and did all those other things instructors do when they weren’t wrangling students.
This man was a renowned violist and had toured the world with the Vienna Philharmonic, one of the finest orchestras in the world. So yeah, he deserved a room with a window.
I met his perplexed gaze. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”
“Are you serious about your career, Stellina?” He’d softened his chastisement by calling me his little star in Italian, the way he did once before—the day I’d been accepted into the Academy. Penn-Rhodes had been the one who’d told me I’d landed a scholarship within these hallowed walls. The warm memory of that day stayed with me. These were the weeks that counted, when the end of our time here neared and we were meant to spread our wings and make the school proud.
“There’s some things going on in my personal life,” I began.
He studied my face. “Who gave you the Stradivarius?”
“A friend.”
His scrutiny stayed on me.
“I’m working through something,” I admitted. “Just need time.”
His hand shot up to stay me. “You can’t let anything get in your way if you want a professional career.”
“It’s just that…”
“Say it.” He snapped off his glasses. “Is it Salme?”
“No, I mean she’s…you know.”
“Oh, I know.” He sighed heavily. “I deserve an explanation.”
“I’m sorry I can’t make it, but…I’m not comfortable with the location. ”
He rose and rounded the table, standing closer to me.
