I took a deep breath and tried to diffuse a potential scene. “James and Madeline have just gotten married, Karin. They’ll be on their honeymoon when the tour starts in two weeks.”
I agreed to participate in the tour before checking with Karin first. The idea of checking with another person for professional decisions still seemed foreign to me, even after three years of marriage. And then Karin declared during the winter that while the BSO was on break for the season in the summer, we would start trying to have a baby.
A baby.
Something she wanted without a doubt, and something we hadn’t discussed much before getting married. Any time I tried to have a rational discussion with her about it, she became defensive and overly emotional. Those discussions were short.
The conversation about my joining the tour during what was deemed by Karin to be a very important summer in our marriage, however, was anything but short. We’d just discussed it this morning, too. I told her this was beyond being important for my career, that it was important for music as a whole. Not something I expected her to fully understand, not being a musician herself. But something I thought she could accept. Staring at her in the middle of our friends’ wedding, with all of our tablemates’ eyes on us, however, it was apparent she did not, in fact, understand.
As the band cued up and the dancing started, I saw the blue eyelet dress twirling on the far end of the dance floor and I had to get out of there.
“Excuse me.” I set my napkin on my chair, adjusted my bowtie, and headed for the bar. Karin wasn’t far behind me.
“You can’t run away from this, Gregory,” she snapped as I waited for the bartender to mix my drink.
“And you can’t run away from my decision, Karin. This tour is important.”
“To you!” Her voice was louder than I cared for.
“To music,” I shot back through gritted teeth. “If you don’t understand that …”
“What? If I don’t understand you placing the tour … this life over our life? Over starting a family?” Her blue eyes filled with tears.
I leaned in close, not wanting to invite an audience. “Karin, we never discussed having children. I’m open to the discussion, but not open to being forced into fatherhood.”
Her eyes cast to the floor for several seconds. When they looked up they were devoid of tears. Of any emotion at all. “I’m going home. I trust you can find your way there when you’re finished up here?” She looked past my shoulder waiting for an answer.
I nodded. “Yes.” At my response her eyes shot to mine as if she were shocked by my reply.
“Wow,” she sighed, “you have no fight left in you for anything but music, do you?” She picked up her purse and made her way toward the exit.
“Sir?” the bartender called out, handing me my drink.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, shoving a twenty into his tip jar before searching for a way outside that wasn’t the way Karin went. I needed fresh air.
Leaning against a rail and taking a long sip of my gin, I thought about this summer. I was going. There wasn’t much else to think about. Some colleagues I’d worked with during my days as a student at the conservatory who’d gone on to other orchestras would be participating, and it would be good to catch up. Before I could give it much more thought, Savannah’s melodic laughter burst through the French doors opposite where I was standing. She and Nathan were fanning themselves and looking up at the starlit sky. This afforded me an extra second to take in the way her neck glistened under the moonlight before they saw me.
“Oh!” Savannah seemed startled as her smile faltered on her lips. “Sorry.” She looked around the open space.
“No need to apologize. I’m just getting some air.”
I didn’t like the way Nathan Connors was eyeing me. It likely had to do with whatever Savannah told him about the last time we saw each other face-to-face, as I recklessly dismissed our relationship on the steps of my townhouse. I wondered if Savannah had received any of the emails I sent her in those first few weeks. She didn’t reply to any of them. Once Madeline told me Savannah had left for Europe, I stopped emailing. Putting an ocean between us was signal enough. She wanted nothing to do with me.
“Can you give us a minute?” Savannah turned toward Nathan, who looked shocked at her request.
Not as shocked as I felt.
“Savannah …” Nathan cocked his head to the side as he took a frustrated breath.
“Nathan …” she retorted mockingly, mimicking his head tilt.
“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, gave her a playful smile, and headed inside without another word.
The click of the doors shutting behind him lingered in the space between us, as she slowly turned around to face me. Her eyes were dark, longing, as she walked slowly toward me. My heart echoed the sound of her heels clicking against the paved patio as she walked toward me. Uneven steps. Uneven beats.
“I’m sorry I rushed off at the beginning of dinner,” she started.
I waved my hand. “No worries.” She laughed. Oh, her laugh. “What?” I asked.
“That thing you do with your hand. You do that when you’re annoyed. You did that at my audition … and any time I came to your office.”
“Any time you came into my office, Savannah, you were ready to argue points that didn’t need arguing.” I chuckled, sipping more of my drink, until the ice clinked against my teeth.
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “How have you been? You and Karin, huh?” Her eyes were honest, endearing. With just a hint of the fire that sucked me in the first time I ever saw her.
“Yeah …”
“Everything okay?” She crossed her arms and took a step closer. Just close enough for me to smell the lilies.
“I’m sorry, Savannah,” I blurted out as I set my glass down behind me and shoved my hands into my pockets.
She swallowed hard, her cheeks turning pink. “Gregory, you don’t have to—”