Love at First Note (6 page)

“I was going to, but then it just sort of felt awkward bringing it up, and . . . I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“November. That’s not very far away.”

“Yeah, it’s coming up pretty quick.”

“Wow. I mean, that’s big news. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

I tried to puzzle out the emotions battling inside my brain.
Happiness reigned—I knew that much was true. Grayson was a good guy. He deserved a great relationship. I was maybe a little
bitter he’d managed to find his happily-ever-after before I had, but I’d never admit as much out loud. I would admit, as soon as I was home and talking to Lilly, that underneath my shock and happiness and stupid old-
girlfriend bitterness, there was also a tiny measure of panic. I didn’t have anything to wear to a wedding where I wasn’t a hired musician, especially not an evening wedding at the Grove Park Inn. More importantly, I didn’t have a plus one. And if there was one thing that was absolutely perfectly clear in my jumbled-up brain, it was that I was
not
going to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding
without a date. Even if that date was Darren Fishbaum.

Okay. Maybe scratch that last part about Darren Fishbaum.

“So tell me about”—I glanced at the invitation—“about Jane.”

Grayson’s eyes got all bright and happy. “She’s great. She’s my boss’s daughter, actually.” He tugged on his ear. “She dropped by one day
to bring him lunch, and that sort of started everything.”

“Did she grow up in Asheville?”

“Yeah. Then she moved away for school and came back a few years ago after she graduated. She’s the hospitality director at Hotel Indigo. Do you know it?”

“I love the Hotel Indigo. We played a gig there last—oh my gosh. I think I met her.”

“What? You did?”

“She’s teeny tiny, with
dark short hair, right? We were playing for this swanky cocktail party, and she and I talked for a few minutes while we were setting up. She was really nice.”

“Yeah, that’s her. So, are you going to come?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me a hopeful smile.

I looked back at the invitation one more time. “I’ll have to check my schedule. Weekends are generally pretty crazy with gigs
and symphony concerts, but I’ll try. If I’m not busy, I’d love to be there.” I answered him with just enough conviction I almost believed it myself.

Later that night, I sat
across the table from Lilly, enjoying my Dragon Roll—
I love you, Trav—
while she studied the details of Grayson’s invitation.

“Theodore and Agnes Manigault Rockwell. Who even has
names like that anymore?” Lilly reached across the table and snuck
a piece of my sushi.

“The real question is who includes a pronunciation guide on a wedding invitation?”

“
An-
yez
,” Lilly said through her nose. “I want to go to the reception and call her plain old Agnes just to see what happens.”

“At least they had mercy on their kid. You can’t get much simpler than Jane.”

“But she isn’t just Jane. She’s Jane Ravenel Rockwell.”

I tried not to laugh. “I’m sure they’re all very nice.”

“So what are you thinking? Are you gonna go?”

I
snatched the invitation out of Lilly’s hands and gave it another once-over. “I don’t know. I kinda feel like I should, but he didn’t send me an invitation until
now
. Which means the only reason I’m invited is because we’re in the same chamber group and he probably felt guilty. Do you really think he wants me there? His ex-girlfriend? It’s a little weird.”

“It’s only weird if you’re still in love with him. But you’re not.
You’ve moved on; he’s moved on. You should go. It’s free food
anyway.”

“I’m not going to his wedding for the free food. And I’m also not going without a date, which, you know, probably means I’m not going.”

“Why do you need a date? Maybe you’ll meet someone there.” Lilly tucked her hair, still wet from her shower, behind her ear. I hated her a little for looking so good without makeup, wearing old yoga pants, and sporting an oversized sweatshirt. She pulled off messy casual way better than I did.

“That’s true,” I said. “
I’m sure Grayson is inviting all kinds of eligible Mormon bachelors to his wedding.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “You and your stupid requirements. Anybody could pinch hit as a wedding date though, right? He doesn’t
really have to be Mormon. Not to take you to a wedding.”

“I guess not. As long as it’s not my wedding.”

“What about Buster?”

“Trav’s work friend, Buster?”

“Yeah. He’s nice and . . . sort of cute.”

For real? How desperate did she think I was? “His name is Buster.”

“That’s a stupid reason not to like someone.”

“Okay. His name is Buster, and he plays Minecraft twenty-three hours a day. And he smells like mushrooms.”

“But you like mushrooms.”

I pushed up from the table and dropped the sushi to-go box in the trash. “You’re not helping.”

“Fine, fine.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “What about Elliott? You’ve been making out with his YouTube channel all week. Maybe he’d go with you.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response.” It was stupid how quickly my heart picked up speed just because
Lilly mentioned Elliott’s name. It was almost as stupid as her comment about his YouTube channel. Because I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . Or maybe I did. But I was only listening. Not obsessing.

“Oh, whatever,” Lilly said. “You just need to go talk to him again. Give yourself another chance to make a better impression.”

“I’m not
ever
going over there to talk to him—not without a personal invitation or a really good, completely pl
ausible, verifiable-with-physical-proof reason. Even if I did have a reason, I would never ask him to go to Grayson’s wedding. That would just be . . .”

“Amazing,” Lilly interjected. “It would be amazing.”

“I was going to say awkward.”

“Emma, just think about it. Everybody at that wedding is going to remember you as the Emma who was going somewhere. You said yourself Grayson acted like your star had dimmed. Who knows what kind of things he’s been telling people about your fall from Cleveland.”

“I didn’t
fall
from Cleveland. I left. On purpose.”

“I know that, and you know that, but no one else does. What better way to show everyone you’ve still got it than by showing up to the wedding with Elliott Hart?”

“So, use his celebrity to make myself look . . . what, more important? More accomplished? You know that’s not my style.”

She frowned. “Okay, no. It’s not your style. But . . . I dunno. He’d still be the hottest guy at the wedding. It might be fun for that reason alone.”

He would definitely be the hottest guy at the wedding. He was the hottest guy anywhere. But I still couldn’t ask him. Because asking required talking, and I wasn’t plann
ing on talking to him ever again.
It was the only surefire way to guarantee I didn’t humiliate myself.

“Have you seen him around at all?” I asked Lilly.

“Who, Elliott?”

I held my hands up and shot her a look.

“Calm down,” she replied. “I’ve just seen him once. He helped me carry my groceries in yesterday. Have
you
seen him around?”

I shook my head. “Only a few times, but I don’t think they really count. I saw him, but he didn’t see me.”

“Yeah, I guess he wouldn’t if you’re hiding in the bushes.” Lilly stood and stretched her arms over her head,
then stifled a yawn. “Emma, you live here. You can’t hide from him forever.”

“I know! But I still feel so stupid. You can’t know the extent of our conversation, Lil. It was quite possibly the worst conversation I have ever had with a man. Or maybe with anyone. Ever. There is no way to recover from that.” I flipped the light in the kitchen and followed her into the hallway.

“So that’s it, then? You’ll just never talk to him again?”

No.

Yes.

I have no idea.

“Maybe not forever. But the next time we talk, it has to feel completely natural. I just don’t want it to be forced, you know? It has to just happen.”

* * *

The irony of my comment was not lost on me when the following Sunday morning, just after sacrament meeting, old Sister Sheehan snake
d her way through the crowd and snagged Elliott before he’d made it three steps away from his pew. She gripped his arm and had a gleam in her eye as she looked pointedly in my direction. I was in for a confrontation with Elliott that was anything but the organic encounter I’d been hoping
for. With Sister Sheehan at the helm, his second impression of me might actually be worse than the first.

I hid behind the Stevenson kid, grateful for his high-school-linebacker–sized shoulders, and almost made it to the safety of the hallway, now bustling with people. But when my shield stopped to flirt with a girl lingering in the back pew (curse you, high school romances), Sister Sheehan managed to cut me off before I could make my escape.

“Emma dear. I’m so glad you’re here today.” When she finally released Elliott’s arm, he shook his sleeve and shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. He didn’t look annoyed, really, just sort of . . . weary.

“When I saw this handsome young man in the back row, I knew he had to be the piano player you told me about last week. This is him, right? I just wanted to make sure you had the opportunity to say hello.”

I cringed as I heard my own voice echoing back
in my head.
What do you play?
I kept my eyes on Sister Sheehan—dear, sweet, cover-blowing Sister Sheehan—but I could still see the smirk on Elliott’s face. “It’s nice of you to think of me, and I appreciate you bringing him over, but we’ve already met.”

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful.” She turned to Elliott. “You know, Emma is a musician too. She plays the fiddle almost as well as my
uncle Nesbit.”

I tried not to wince. The fiddle? Uncle Nesbit? I couldn’t get to my Sunbeam class fast enough.

Sister Sheehan squeezed my arm, her eyebrows dancing as she grinned. “I’ll leave you young people to it.” She shuffled out of the chapel while Elliott and I stood in awkward silence. I tried to think of something to say that might redeem me from our first encounter, but before I could open my mouth, Elliott gave me a
nod and a brief “Nice to see you again,” then turned and left.

Awesome.

For the second week in a row, I tried and failed to focus on my lesson. I couldn’t think of anything but Elliott’s smug expression. The kids were all over the place, ignoring everything I said, and I could hardly blame them. I wasn’t making any sense. Finally we ate some animal crackers and colored some pictures, and I mentally vowed that next week we’d learn something useful. I looked at the next lesson. “I Am Thankful for Fish.” See? Perfect.

At the end of Primary, I ducked out of church
a few minutes early to avoid the crowds. And by crowds, I meant Elliott. I stopped
by Maple Crescent long enough to grab my violin, then drove to
my parents’ house, hoping Ava still wanted to work on her concerto.
And also
hoping for lunch.

Church in Hendersonville ended an hour earlier than my Asheville ward, so my family was already home and gathered around the kitchen bar, the post-church feeding frenzy in full swing. Dad stood at the counter making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Ava hovered by the open refrigerator, sniffing her way through containers of leftovers. I left my stuff by the door and plopped onto a barstool.

“Hi.”

“Hey! It’s Emma!” Dad called. “Karen! Emma’s home.”

Mom appeared in the kitchen doorway and smiled. She moved around the bar and kissed me on the forehead. “What brings you to our end of the mountains?”

I shrugged. “Ava said she wanted to practice.”

“Are you hungry?” Mom
nudged Ava out of the way and leaned into the fridge. “Your dad made sweet pork tacos for the missionaries
last night. I can warm up some leftovers if you want.”

“That’s what
I
was looking for,” Ava said. She swung her blonde
hair over her shoulder. “Is there enough for both of us?”

“There’s enough for all of us,” Mom said, “though it doesn’t look like your father was patient enough for a taco.”

Dad grinned through a huge bite of sandwich. “This is only my appetizer.”

I took the containers from Mom and pulled a few plates out of the cabinet. “Thanks, Mom.”

She moved to the window seat at the back of the kitchen while I made the tacos—a plate for each of us. Ava took hers to the living
room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my parents.

“So.” Dad rubbed his hands together. “Have you met the rock star yet?” He sat down next to Mom and pulled a cushion into his lap, then lifted Mom’s feet onto the cushion.

“Huh?”

“He’s talking about Elliott Hart,” Mom said. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“He’s in your ward, right?” Dad said.

“He’s in her ward, but he’s also her neighbor. He lives in the same house, right across the entryway.”

Dad’s eyebrows danced playfully. “What are the odds of that happening? When’s your first date?”

“Go easy on her, Jake.” Mom nudged Dad in the chest with her foot.

She was playing all coy, scolding Dad for teasing me, but I
didn’t buy it. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain, fast-forwarding through my potential future with Elliott. I couldn’t
exactly
blame her. I mean, the fantasy had crashed and burned
within ten seconds of meeting him, but I’d still done the same thing.

“Tell me about him,” Mom said. “What’s he like?”

“He’s . . .” I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t say nice because, well, he hadn’t been very nice, not that I’d done much to deserve his niceness. I could say hot; that was totally true, but it was hardly
a description that would satisfy Mom. “He’s . . . very talented.”

She gave me a funny look but didn’t press further.

“So guess who’s in my chamber group now?”

Mom’s eyes sparked with interest. “Someone new?”

I nodded. “New to the group but not to me. He’s filling in while Bruno’s in Florida with his granddaughter.”

“He?” Mom’s eyes went wide. “Is it Grayson? Really?”

I nodded. “He’s getting married
in November.”

“Oh! That’s so good! And such big news.” Ha. She didn’t even try to hide her relief.

Dad gave Mom’s foot a final squeeze, then got up and retrieved his plate before leaving the kitchen. “I’m going to do some reading. Make sure you come see me before you leave.”

I nodded.

“How are you feeling about the wedding
?” Mom asked.

“Fine, I guess. Grayson seems really happy.”

“Are you invited?”

I nodded again. “Yeah, but only just now. I’m sure he wouldn’t
have if we weren’t in the same quartet.”