Reverb (Songs and Sonatas Book 7) Read online

  The driver lets us out at the curb, promising to circle back around to pick me up in a few minutes. Waiting in the check-in line with him provokes a strange sense of déjà vu, only this time he’s the one with the suitcase about to board a plane.

  And while the goodbye is sad, it’s not supposed to be final like our last airport goodbye was.

  As we approach the TSA line, he stops and turns to me, tugging me close by our joined hands. His free hand raises and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and his eyes roam my face. “I’m going to miss you,” he murmurs.

  “I’m going to miss you too.” I have to blink a few times, because this sucks, but I’m determined not to cry about it. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to give our relationship a try. This won’t be our last goodbye. Not by a long shot.

  “I’ll call you tonight when I get home. Once I know what my schedule looks like the next few weeks, we can plan our next meeting.”

  I snort, smiling at his choice of words. “You make it sound like we’re doing business.”

  His serious expression lightens. “What would you prefer? Tryst? Rendezvous?”

  With a soft laugh, I reach up and pull his mouth to mine. He comes willingly, one hand going to my hip, his fingers flexing as his tongue slides against mine. “I don’t care what you call it as long as I get to see you. That’s what matters,” I whisper when he pulls back.

  He presses another kiss to my lips, this one short and sweet, before lifting his head and stepping back from me, even though he still hasn’t released my hand. His chest inflates as he sucks in a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “I need to go.”

  I nod, though I make no move to release his hand either. “I know.”

  “If I don’t get in line soon, I risk missing my flight.”

  Another nod. “I know.”

  He cracks a smile, and once again I admire how gorgeous he is when he looks this happy. He pulls me close again, finally letting go of my hand in favor of wrapping both arms around me.

  I can’t see his face, but his heavy sigh tells me he’s not smiling anymore. I’m not either. Swallowing thickly, I blink up at the ceiling over his shoulder, forcing the liquid in my eyes to drain down my tear ducts. We’re both sticking to the unspoken pact to not mention how much we hate this already. Tears are definitely out of the question.

  After a long moment, and his lips brushing across my temple, he steps back. I do the same, crossing my arms over my chest to avoid reaching for him.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he says, his voice rough.

  I nod once again. “And we’ll talk tonight.”

  “Definitely. Every night from now on.”

  I muster up a smile, though I’m not sure how well it comes off, because Brendan’s returning smile just looks sad. And then we’re both moving into each other’s arms again, a tear-choked laugh coming out of me as his arms cinch around me and our lips fuse together. It’s a fierce kiss, over almost as soon as it starts. He pulls back, looking down into my face, his eyes boring into mine, his mouth open like he wants to say something. I wait, holding my breath, wondering what he might say. The memory of Gabby hinting that he might be in love with me flashes through my head. Is he going to say it right now?

  Instead he closes his mouth and gives a little shake of his head before saying, “I’ll miss you.”

  A tiny shard of disappointment pierces me, but I will it away. It’s too soon. Right? Right. I caress the hair at the nape of his neck before sliding my hand down his shoulder. “I’ll miss you too. But we’ll see each other again soon.”

  His eyes blaze with determination. “Yes. We will.” With one more hug and a final chaste peck on the lips, he turns and walks to the line.

  I stand rooted to the spot, staring after him. It’s a short line, so it doesn’t take long before he’s toeing off his shoes and placing his phone, belt, and keys into a small plastic bowl. He turns and gives me a small smile and wave before stepping through to get scanned. Even so, I wait till he’s all the way through, gathering up his things. He lifts his head and finds me, waving one last time before turning and heading for his gate.

  With a sigh, I turn back to the doors, sending a quick text to the driver that I’m ready to go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brendan

  Doing the long distance thing with Lauren is both better and worse than pretending I was getting over her.

  Better because I don’t have to lie to myself anymore.

  But worse because now it’s glaringly apparent how hard this really is.

  I’ve always hated talking on the phone. And now I’m remembering why. Everything I say sounds boring and inane. Exhaustion from making up for my time off at work only makes it harder for me to come up with anything to talk about.

  Lauren makes an effort, but exhausts her stories about the day pretty quickly. So after a couple of days, our phone conversations are stilted. Short. With long pauses after the first few minutes where neither of us says anything that usually ends with someone saying they’re tired and need to go. Usually her.

  I hate it.

  I know she hates it too.

  The fact that it’s already been almost two weeks since we’ve seen each other only makes everything worse. But The Professor lined up a bunch of projects that he only wants me to handle while I was off with Jonathan, and it’s taking longer than I’d like to work through everything. Especially since he keeps rejecting half my tracks. It feels like he’s punishing me for being out of town for a week, even though he knew when he hired me that this was part of the deal.

  I sit back from the computer in The Professor’s studio, rubbing my eyes with one hand and pulling my headphones off with the other. It’s time for a quick break for my nightly phone call with Lauren. And then I need to get back to this. He wants new versions of the latest rejects by tomorrow morning before the meeting with the label and their newest ingenue who’s supposed to sing these.

  They want hits. Chart toppers. A whole album full of them, basically.

  With a sigh, I grab my phone off the desk and tap Lauren’s picture. I took it the last time we were together. She’s smiling at me over her bare shoulder, her hair tousled and sexy. It’s one of my favorite photos of her.

  Slouching down in my chair, I put the phone to my ear and listen to it ring. She picks up on the third ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Even though I’m bone tired and my eyes ache from staring at sound waves on a computer screen for hours, a smile blossoms on my face at the sound of her voice.

  “You sound tired. Long day?”

  I hum my agreement. “It’s not over yet. I’ll probably be here all night.”

  A low sound of disapproval makes its way over the phone. “That’s not good for you, you know. You need to sleep. Your creativity will shrivel up and die without sleep and food and hydration.”

  I chuckle, rubbing my eyes again, enjoying the fact that someone other than my mom gives a shit about me getting enough sleep. “I’ll take a nap if I need it. I’ve got a pillow under my desk.” Her little gasp of outrage makes me laugh again.

  She’s quiet for a beat. “I can’t tell if you’re joking right now. Are you? Please tell me you’re joking.”

  I glance down at the pillow in question and debate whether to tell her I’m joking or not. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Brendan.” She’s narrowing her eyes at me right now, and I’m grinning like a love-sick fool. “What wouldn’t be the first time? That answer was deliberately ambiguous.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “Oh my god,” she mutters. “You’re completely serious about the pillow aren’t you? Do you regularly sleep under your desk?”

  “Only when I have a deadline.” Before she can get too worked up I try to soothe her. “Think of it this way—the sooner I get through all this, the sooner we can get together again.”

  That seems to mollify her, at least for a moment. “Yeah, but not r
eally. Because then you’ll sleep for at least an entire day before you’re able to function at all again. That’s what happened when you missed my recital.”

  My smile wilts at the reminder. “Yeah.” I clear the gravel from my throat. “That’s true. Although that time I only slept for twelve hours.”

  “Thank you for your sacrifice.”

  Her sardonic tone brings my smile back a little, but I have no idea what to say to that, so we lapse into silence. It stretches, only the sound of her breathing keeping me company.

  “I—”

  “Today—”

  We both start speaking at the same time. I stop and wait, but so does she. “Go ahead,” I prompt.

  “No, you first,” she says. “My thing wasn’t important.”

  “I still want to hear it, whatever it was.”

  She grunts. “Fine. But you first.”

  “I was just going to say that I miss you.”

  “Oh.” The word is a soft exhalation. “I miss you too.”

  More silence.

  “What were you going to say?” I prompt, hoping for conversation. Something.

  She sighs. “Nothing important. Just that I had a few lessons today with new students.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine. Two incoming freshmen hoping to make advanced orchestra in the fall. Their spring auditions didn’t go well, so they signed up for lessons. They have lots of technical problems that are holding them back.”

  “Do you think you can help them?”

  “Yeah.” She pauses, and I hear fabric rustling through the phone like she’s moving around or maybe climbing into bed. “Yeah, I can. If they’ll let me. One of them seems more willing than the other, but we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Anyone else? You said a few.”

  “Oh. Yeah. The other one was Brandi. She’ll be a junior next year. We started working together last semester, so she’s not new. She’s good. Planning on auditioning for All-State this year, so we’re starting to look at repertoire to get a head start.”

  “Sounds smart.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees. More silence. “What about you? Anything interesting happen today?”

  “Uhhh …” I search my brain, hoping for some small tidbit that I can share. “Not really. Unless you think making beat tracks is interesting.”

  “It is. Just maybe not as a conversation topic.”

  I let out a grudging chuckle. “True.” Silence. “I could play one for you if you want?”

  She breathes in and holds it. “Sure.”

  Not exactly the enthusiastic response I was hoping for, but I’m not sure I blame her. “I don’t have to. I just thought—”

  “No no. It’s fine. It’s good. I want to hear what you’ve been doing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Now her tone is verging toward annoyance. “I wouldn’t say so if I wasn’t sure.”

  “Alright, alright. Hang on.” I wake up the computer, set the phone on the desk and put it on speaker, then hit play. The sound of electronic drums fills the air, going on endlessly. Yeah, it changes at key points in the verses and chorus, and again at the bridge. But what the fuck am I thinking? Lauren doesn’t want to listen to this. I cover my face with my hands. Maybe she’s right and my brain is failing from lack of sleep. I’ve only slept a few hours a night for the last few nights, either curled up under the desk in here or on a cot in a recording studio down the hall.

  At the end of the chorus, not that anyone other than me knows that’s what it is, I slap the space bar and turn it off. “So, uh, yeah. That’s what I’ve been doing, more or less.”

  “Cool. That’s, uh, that’s great, Brendan. Really great.”

  My answering, “Yeah, thanks,” is muffled because I have my hands over my face again. I’m a fucking moron, and this is awful.

  She doesn’t say anything as long minutes tick by, and neither do I.

  Whatever chemistry we have in person is dead on the phone. This fucking sucks. But I’m not willing to give up on us, because when we’re together, we’re electric. I’ve never experienced that with anyone else. I’ve tried turning my back on it, and it didn’t work. If this is what it takes to get to the point where we can see each other, then I’ll suck it up and deal. It has to get better eventually …

  She clears her throat, and I know what’s coming. “Well, um, I should let you get back to work.”

  “Yeah.” My voice is hoarse, and I don’t even give a shit right now. I hate this, and if she can hear it in my voice, maybe it’ll make her feel better about hating it too. “I need to finish this.”

  “That way you can see me sooner, right?”

  “Right.” The sound of hope in her voice is enough to bring a tiny smile to my face. A lightness to the weight dragging at my chest. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she whispers. “Night.”

  “I did it,” I crow into the phone when Lauren answers the next afternoon. “I finished everything at like two in the morning and sent the tracks to The Professor. He sampled them for the label today, and they’re going to use them. If these are as big as they’re hoping, I’ll get my name on a hit. There should be at least one out of that group.”

  “That’s great!” Lauren’s enthusiasm is one hundred percent real today, and I love that she’s excited on my behalf. “I’m sure they’ll all be number one singles. The whole album will. You’re amazing.”

  I chuckle, flopping back on my bed for the first time in days. “I’m so fucking tired right now, but I wanted to call and tell you the good news first.”

  “Have you slept at all since we talked last night?”

  I’d shrug but I’m too exhausted. And no one’s here to see the gesture. “Eh. About an hour. Maybe two. I don’t even know.”

  “You should sleep then. Call me when you wake up.”

  “I will. But first, I wanted to tell you that I have the next week off.”

  “You do?” There’s a slight catch in her voice. “Really?”

  “Yup. And I know just how to spend it.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

  I roll over on my side. “Hang on. Are you home? Let’s switch to video chat. I want to see your face.”

  “Uh, sure. Hang on. Let me turn on a light so you can actually see me.”

  Without waiting, I hit the button to switch to video. She gives me a cute little glare when she answers, and the phone is jiggling like crazy as she moves. “I said to hang on.”

  “I didn’t want to wait to see you.”

  Light brightens her face as it softens with affection. “Fine. I guess you’re forgiven.” She settles back against her pillows, the dark wood of her headboard in the background. “Now, what’s this great idea of yours?”

  “Vegas. I want to take you to Vegas.”

  “What?” Her expression is pure surprise, and I can’t tell if she’s excited or totally hates the idea. “Why?”

  “You said you’ve never been. We were going to stop there on the way back to California in December, but we didn’t get the chance. We should go now.” Plus, I figure if we can spend some time together on a trip, just the two of us, like we were in New York, maybe we can recapture what we had. Build on it. Make it even better. Work past this stilted awfulness we have now. Or at least have memories to share when all we have is phone calls again.

  She bites her lip, her brows pulling together. “When exactly would you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow. Tonight. I don’t care. I just want to see you.”

  She’s shaking her head, though, and my grand plan seems to be deflating before my very eyes. “I can’t tonight. I have my own lesson tomorrow. But that’s the last thing on my calendar this week, so maybe after that?”

  Hope flares to life again. “Really? You’re not going to fight me about this?”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

  “No!”

  She laughs, and I do too, relief and ex
citement starting to build. “What time are you done with your lesson?”

  “Two.”

  “Okay. I won’t book you a flight earlier than five. I’ll email you all the details once I buy the tickets, okay?”

  She smiles, and it’s the best sight I’ve seen all day. “Okay. But first, get some sleep. If we’re going to spend the rest of the week in Vegas together, I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lauren

  With my heart in my throat, I have to remind myself to breathe as I follow the signs from the terminal to the luggage claim where Brendan said he’d be waiting for me. And sent a text to confirm it when I deplaned.

  For having two airport goodbyes between us, we’ve never had an airport reunion. And while I’m excited, I’m also a little nervous.

  And surprised. Because slot machines? In an airport? Seriously?

  With a shake of my head, I rejoin the flow of people heading for the luggage claim. I push through the doors behind an older couple, going up on tiptoe to see past their joint clouds of silver hair and scan the area.

  When my eyes find Brendan, everything else falls away. He makes no move toward me, just stares at me, devouring me with his eyes while a slow smile claims his mouth.

  We both start moving at the same moment, his long strides eating up the distance between us faster than I can with my shorter legs and weighed down by my cross-body bag and violin case. He catches me against his chest with one arm, grunting as my violin hits his side. But he doesn’t complain. Instead he covers my mouth with his.

  There’s no preamble, no warmup, just his tongue demanding entrance, the heat of his body against mine. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  For all my bitching about Gabby and Jonathan’s PDA, I’m acting just like them. And I totally get it.

  Being away from Brendan is hard. Harder than I expected, especially given that we’ve basically spent all our time apart since we’ve known each other. But now that I’ve allowed myself to want him, I want him all the time.