Composing Love

And then he hadn’t. God damn it. He was such an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just reacted. It wasn’t about cheating, in the end. It was about how afraid I was that I’d lost the best thing that had ever happened to me because I was too stupid to hang on to it, in the first place. I was hurting, and I did what I always do—I threw up my defenses and closed myself off, because I thought you didn’t understand me. I thought you couldn’t see me for who I really was.”

At that, her face softened, and he felt hope rising.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” she whispered. “But I knew the second I saw your face that you wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t go after you because I didn’t want you to make a scene and ruin your deal with Harmon.”

She was right. He would have made a scene, if she hadn’t borne the brunt of his anger. He’d been doing it for so long, protecting his more vulnerable feelings that way. It would have ruined things with Harmon, too, for sure.

He drew in a harsh breath.

“Minh. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was scared for so long. I was too scared to get rejected for just being me, so I decided to reject everyone else before they could hurt me. You were the first person who saw past that defense. Hell. Even I didn’t realize that it was a defense until I met you. Accusing you of cheating was an excuse. I got carried away. I made a mistake.”

She looked down at her suitcase. Aw, fuck. She was leaving. He’d waited too long and…now what?

“You are…you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, Minh. I’m ready to step into my life too. Just like you said in that song. But I want to take that step with you. If you forgive me, that is. If you forgive me and take me back. I’ll go to L.A. all the time. Daria told me you were leaving and, shit, I don’t want you to go. I don’t. But I understand if you have to. I can’t promise this movie will be a success or that I can even connect you to people who would give you what you want. All I can offer you is me and my—” He stopped and swallowed hard—“my heart.”

Minh dropped the shirt she was holding and stepped toward him. Oh, God. Please. Please let her forgive me.

“No, Chris.”

No? Holy shit, she was saying no. He wanted to cry. He wanted to rage. He wanted to get down on his knees so that he could beg her to take him back and crawl away from her at the same time.

His shoulders slumped, and as hard as he tried to keep his head up and walk away with dignity, he still found it bowing down, feeling heavy—

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

His head snapped up again just as Minh reached out a hand.

“I should have given you more reason to believe in me. I didn’t tell you about this job in L.A. because I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to look like a loser and instead I ended up looking like I was doing the same thing to you that Kendra had done. I should have realized.”

He shook his head, but she continued.

“I was so afraid you were never going to talk to me again. I wanted to tell you so many things. Like that you’ve taught me so much about who I can be. Who I really am. I’ve spent so many years trying to be some ideal that made me unhappy. But you make me happy. You were the one who pushed me to be the best version of myself.”

He took the hand she was offering and pulled her close. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“No way, baby.” She looked up at him and smiled. “You’re my theme song.”





Epilogue


“Sweetheart, you’re hurting my hand.”

Minh made a sound of dismay and immediately loosened her iron grip on Chris’s hand. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Nervous?” He finished for her.

She laughed. “Yeah. Very.”

To be honest, so was he, but somehow having Minh by his side was helping to keep him calm, at least on the outside. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, grinning. “You have nothing to be nervous about. The score is fantastic. Everyone is going to love it.”

They were standing in the lobby of the theater where Phantom Studios had just held their first screening for reviewers. People were streaming out of the show, talking and laughing and sounding overall enthusiastic. One tall, thin man with a shock of white hair made a beeline for Chris and grabbed his hand.

“Wow, Reichert. Amazing. Really amazing. You’re going to be a smash, I know it.”

Chris smiled. “Thanks. That’s really good of you to say.”

“And the score. Incredible. It added so much to the film. Who was the composer? I didn’t recognize her name.”

Chris grinned and gestured between Minh and the man. “Minh Jackson, meet Rogan Thierney. Rogan, Minh.”

The older man began shaking Minh’s hand furiously.

“Gorgeous score. Absolutely gorgeous. You should be composing for anyone but Reichert, here.” He jerked a finger in Chris’s direction, but grinned.

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