Page 59 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Bobbi sniggers.
Thankfully, Tony comes home with a box of chocolate cupcakes. I could kiss him for that, because I so need some sugar. We go to the kitchen together, leaving Bobbi and Julie in the living room.
He brushes his thumbs under my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a little tired,” I say.
“Why didn’t you nap?”
I don’t want to tell him. Tony isn’t too crazy about Byron, and I know that dislike affects how he feels about Julie. “It’s a long story.”
Before I can steal a bite of one of the cupcakes, Yuna arrives, Mr. Kim following in a conservative suit. She’s in a fitted shirt, cropped jeans and casual wedge sandals. Good. I don’t feel that underdressed anymore.
Tony hands me a small glass of grapefruit juice, which I chug down. “Does anybody want anything to drink?” he asks.
“After we’re done with Rachmaninoff,” Yuna says.
Julie purses her lips. “I don’t think Iris is ready.”
“Sure she is,” Yuna says airily. “It isn’t like she’s never played Rachmaninoff before.”
“She doesn’t like duets!”
“It’ll be different now. She has me.”
Scowling, Julie stands between the digital piano and the white Steinway. Giving her a funny look, Tony sits next to Bobbi.
Yuna flexes her fingers and warms up on the digital piano for a bit. “Not bad,” she remarks after a few scales and arpeggios.
“They did a good job setting it up. Which one do you want?” I gesture between the digital and the baby grand.
She shoots me a cocky grin. “I’m going to be nice and let you take the Steinway. Ready?”
I sit at the piano. Julie sits next to me on the bench and opens the music to the right page. I shoot her a quick smile of thanks. “Whenever you’re ready,” I say.
“Presto,” Yuna says.
I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or out of habit. If we’ve played it enough for me to be able to pull it off, she should know I know the proper tempo.
She starts. It’s as though the few rumbling notes are waking up some dormant part of my brain. I pick right up and play the next part, and we’re off in rapid notes and powerful chords, perfectly synced. My fingers are totally loose, and they fly over the keys easily and comfortably, like I’ve done this hundreds of times before. Julie’s flipping music—about half a measure too slow—but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need it to play the piece. It’s like my hands know exactly what to do.
Exhilaration rushes through me. My heart is buoyant. I feel like I can fly. It’s fun playing with Yuna. She’s matching me note for note, beat for beat. Not even the digital piano can lessen the vigor and verve of her performance. Even my scalp tingles with excitement. We’re complementing each other perfectly.
Six minutes later, we’re done. I’m panting softly. I turn to look at Yuna, who’s staring at me with a huge smile and tears pooling in her eyes.
“Told you,” she says, choked up.
“You did. I just never…” I place a hand over my mouth, unable to continue.
We get up and hug each other like we’ve just had our first successful Carnegie Hall concert, hopping and squeezing.
It’s incontrovertible proof—that she isn’t just making crap up but truly was my best friend from Curtis. That we spent months practicing together. That a past I don’t remember is still in my head—just ready for me to dig down and discover it all.
