Authors: Charles Sheehan-Miles

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Romance, #Contemporary

Nocturne (50 page)

BOOK: Nocturne

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As the band played its final note, he leaned close, his lips near my ear, and he whispered, “Savannah, I want you to be mine.”

I sucked in a breath at his words. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even see. My emotions were overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed.

“You can’t leave your life ...”

He kept one hand firmly at the small of my back and said, “I already did. I want you to be my new life.”

I felt my pulse in my neck as my hands slid down his shoulders onto his chest. “But ... where will you work?”

He chuckled softly. “I was principal cellist for the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I can work anywhere I want.”

I shivered, because I knew he was right. And I could not get my mind around the idea that he’d walked away from it.

“I … live in Moscow. I’m not planning to be here for long, but I’m not going back to the States.”

He shrugged then whispered in my ear, “We can go anywhere we want, Savannah. Anywhere. Just … let it be together.” His voice dropped to a low growl, the same early-morning voice, which sent shivers down my spine every single time during our months together. “Savannah ... I’m begging you.”

I pulled him tighter, and his arms tightened on me as I whispered, “I’m afraid, Gregory.”

“Don’t be afraid. Because I’ll always be there. I belong to you now. And forever.”

My chin quivered as I briefly examined what my life would look like without him. Always wondering. Wishing. Regretting. My lips twitched into a smile, my eyes filling with tears.

“Forever,” I whispered, pulling back so I could kiss him the way I’d wanted to since I spotted him across the ballroom.

The room had emptied, the call for dinner had come and gone, but Gregory and I held onto each other, and our promise, until the musicians took their places once more. A waltz closed out the last portion of the evening, and Gregory led me. The music sounded different, even though the same ensemble was on the stage.

Music always sounded better with him.

With us.

Gregory

T
he cool September breeze
blew off the River Thames to the fifth floor balcony where I sat, drinking a cup of tea. Our flat on Chicheley Street, right in the heart of London, was little more than six hundred square feet. Six hundred square feet of joy that we’d rented not long after Savannah was offered first chair with the London Symphony.

I’d never forget the day she got the call. The pride in her glistening eyes as tears ran down her face. The pure joy I felt for her at the realization of her dreams.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she’d asked.

As if I could possibly mind. Savannah was at the top of her career. Every single day I was stunned by her talent, her beauty, her love. Every day.

Today I was nursing a little bit of a hangover, but that would clear soon enough. I took out my phone and scanned through the various congratulatory emails and messages. Some of them, such as those from former students and friends like Joseph McIntosh.

But the last two years had changed that in so many ways. And
that
made me grateful for the friends, like James and Madeline, who had stuck it out with me, who had stayed friends, who had brought their own wisdom and love and care to my life.

The door opened, and James stepped out on the balcony. He set his coffee down and took a seat. He was already dressed. I slid the letter across to him. It was from the National Children’s Orchestras of Great Britain, offering me the position of Principal Director of Music. It would be a change. Instead of being a professional musician, I’d be a mentor, a conductor. I’d be nurturing children who sought careers in music.

James scanned the letter then looked up at me, folding it back into thirds.

“Not what I expected,” he said. “You’ll be teaching only ... not playing.”

I nodded. “I’ll always play. But ... I’ve been there, James. I spent ten years as principal chair at the BSO. I feel like it’s time to give something back.”

He nodded. “I get it, Gregory. I’m just ... surprised. And very happy for you. Can I tell you, I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re so happy it’s almost frightening.”

I chuckled. “You expect me to be tortured? Closeted somewhere with my cello?”

James laughed. “Yes. Generally that’s exactly what I expect of you.” He shook his head and took another drink of his coffee. “Does Savannah know yet?”

“About the job? No. Rather, she knows I’ve been talking with them. The offer came yesterday and I wanted today to be ... about us. Not about the job.”

He smiled. “I’m incredibly happy for you. Madeline is too.”

I leaned forward, took another sip of my tea. “Speaking of Madeline, she’s pretty far along. Do you know if this one’s a boy a girl?” Pretty far along was an understatement. Even though she wasn’t due for another three months, Madeline was as big as an upright bass.

He shook his head. “Not yet. She doesn’t want to know in advance.”

“And how is little Delaney?”

“She took her first steps two weeks ago.” The pride on his face was transparent and beautiful. He said, “What about you two? Any plans for kids?”

I shook my head. “Neither of us is really thinking along those lines. I don’t know what the future may hold, but for now, it’s the two of us.”

Oddly enough, I really
didn’t
know what the future held. I’d never planned on kids, and Savannah hadn’t either. But neither of us was as opposed to the idea as we’d been a year ago. So for the time being, we simply moved forward, and made sure we talked, a lot, about what we wanted.

This much I knew. Savannah and I were meant for each other. Now and forever.

James and I finished up our drinks. He looked at me and said, “Time to get ready, friend.”

I gave him a serious nod, then stepped inside and prepared myself. Freshly shaved and dressed, I rode the elevator down with my oldest friend and we got in the hired car, headed to Wilton’s Music Hall on Graces Alley in the East End.

Steeped in London’s history, Wilton’s was one of the most important and oldest music halls in London. A nineteenth century concert hall was joined by a terrace to the Mahogany Bar. Three houses made a unique, fascinating setting. Savannah and I had agreed almost immediately on the concert hall here for our wedding, because it echoed with the melodies of three hundred years of musicians. And, it was us. It was our life together past, present, and future.

It was a small wedding, but the hall was filled with people we both loved, and who loved us. Taking one last look over the crowd, my eyes rested for a minute on Vita and Malcolm. While Savannah hadn’t attended their wedding, her relationship with her mother was finally on the mend. I doubted it would ever return to whatever it was each of them thought it once was, but it worked for Savannah, and that’s what mattered.

Vita gave me a polite smile, and I returned it before watching her eyes move to the memory candle at the base of the stage. Stephen, Savannah’s father, had passed away the year before after an aggressive battle with brain cancer. Savannah was there at the end, and I was next to her, holding her as she cried for weeks. Getting through that in one piece gave us a strength neither of us realized we possessed together.

The string ensemble took a long pause at the end of their number, and I knew this was it. At their next cue, the doors would open and my future wife would be walking toward me. As the violin led, the doors opened, and I had to stop myself from racing down the aisle to get her myself.

God, she was exquisite. The simple long white dress highlighted nothing but her beauty. I watched her chest rise in a deep breath before she leaned in and gave Nathan a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes never left mine as he led her down the aisle. After a million years she finally got to me, and Nathan held her hand out to mine.

Leaning in, he said, “Take care of her.” He was serious, but not threateningly so.

I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I promise I will.”

With that, he gave her another hug and kiss before he stepped back and left me with Savannah at the altar. I took her hands in mine and she squeezed them tight.

Breaking convention, as she did best, Savannah kissed me once and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered back, ignoring the
Awws
from the guests.

She rested her forehead on mine for a beat and said, “Marry me?”

I kissed her once more. “Absolutely.”

And so I took her hand and we faced the minister. The music from the ensemble in the back of the hall had stopped.

But for us, the music was only beginning.

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Contact the authors

Thank you so much for reading Nocturne. We'd like to invite you to post a review of the book! Book reviews help make the book world go round, and the help of readers like you, spreading the word, is what makes future books possible.

Andrea Randall

http://www.andrearandall.com

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAndreaRandall

Charles Sheehan-Miles

http://www.sheehanmiles.com

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/CharlesSheehanMiles

Acknowledgements

Our thanks go to our amazing friend Maggi Myers, who was the first to support our collaboration and who read the earliest drafts of the book. Maggi, your support and friendship went well beyond the pages of our books and will have a lasting and wonderful impact on our lives. Friends, always.

We'd also like to thank our amazing Beta Readers. They are, in no particular order: Melissa Brown, Michelle Pace, Pamela Carrion, Kelly Moorhouse, Laura Wilson, Beth Suit, Kirsten Papi, Erin Roth and Kirsty Lander.

Finally, thanks go to our amazing cover designer, Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations and our inestimable editor, Lori Sabin.

v090413

ISBN: 978-0-9898688-0-8

Cover Design by Okay Creations

Edited by Lori Sabin

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintentional, with the exception of certain named historical characters.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prelude

Part One