Page 171 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“Play with me.” I kiss her once, then whisper against her lips, “Let me play your bass notes.”
Her breath tickles my lips as she inhales and exhales slowly. She doesn’t speak, but she jerks out a nod, and that’s all I need.
I turn back to the keys and find the C-sharp octave once more. When Callie moves over to place her feet on the pedals, I can’t fight the hopeful, upward curve of my lips. When I begin to play, so does she, and though our pace is slower than I’ve heard her play in the past, we’re still beautifully in sync.
When I hear her start to cry, it takes everything in me to keep my eyes on the keys in front of me. Before last week, I hadn’t played the piano in twelve years. If I look away for even a second, I could ruin this moment by fumbling the keys. I will let nothing ruin this moment.
But god, do I wish I could see her face.
She rocks lightly as we play. It’s the same motion I’ve seen from her when she’s losing herself in a piece, and I know the tears streaming down her face are not from sadness. They’re from relief.
I bet her eyes are closed. I bet there’s a serene smile on her full lips. I bet she looks like she’s completely, totally free. Free of heartbreak. Free of pain. Free of dissonance.
Nothing but perfect harmony.
I hope every note chips away at the fear she’s collected over the last five weeks. I hope it starts to mend the cracks in her heart and confidence. I think it will.
We stop playing when we finish the first movement, and for several breaths, we sit in silence. I can hear her sniffling as she works to calm her shaky breathing. I watch her wipe tears from her face in my periphery. I keep my eyes on my hands to give her time. To let her settle into her emotions. I know this was probably overwhelming for her. I want to give her space to adjust.
Slowly, I feel her turn her body toward mine, and I allow myself to mirror the movement. When I settle my eyes on her face, I’m overwhelmed by what I see.
She’s flushed deep pink. Her eyes are red, and her lashes are matted together. Her cheeks are shiny and wet from the tears still falling down her face.
And she’s smiling.
She’s pure joy, and my own smile is unbidden in response. She’s so fucking beautiful in this moment. In every moment, but especially now. This vision of her is one that I will think of often.
“Torren...I...” Her voice cracks, and her words trail off as she closes her mouth around a whimper. “I...”
“I know.” I wrap her in my arms and hold her to my chest. “I know, baby.”
Callie’s body shakes against me as she cries. Her tears seep through my shirt, warming my skin. Out of nowhere, a vision of her from ArtFusion is pulled from my memory. Dressed in feathers and flames, clever and carefree. It’s that memory, that vision of her dressed as a phoenix, that confirms it for me: this moment is a catharsis. A rebirth.
She’s here. She’s safe. She’s alive.
“My firebird,” I murmur against her. “Rising from the ashes.”
She laughs lightly and shakes her head, but she doesn’t pull away. “I love you.”
I smile. “I love you, too.”
44
CALLIE
THREE MONTHS LATER.
“Hey. How was PT today?”
Sav kicks her shoes off at the door and saunters into Torren’s apartment. I guess my apartment now, too, but it’s still weird to say.
“Honestly? Fucking killer.” I flex my hand as best as I can because it aches just talking about it. “But otherwise, I think it’s going well. Dr. Hernandez-Calligaris says he’s really pleased with the way I’ve been progressing.”
“That man is hot.” She bounces her brows playfully. “Don’t tell Levi.”
I grin. “Hiswifeis hot, too. We went out to dinner with them when we flew to Chicago for my last follow up. A whole family of attractive people.”
She heads to the fridge and pulls out a mineral water. She and Mabel have been here so much in the last few months that it almost feels like we’re roommates on the bus again. With all the changes lately, it’s been nice to have something familiar to focus on.
