Nathan was swaying in the doorway. He didn’t look drunk. But he did look furious.
“Gregory,” she said. “I’m not going to judge you. I’ve known you and Savannah for a long time. And ... when she was a student I did my best to keep you apart. Because it was my responsibility. But … it’s been obvious for a long time. But my support ends …” She paused, and I heard her sniff. “My support ends if you hurt that girl. Do you understand me?”
I closed my eyes. Then I said, “Yes, Madeline. I understand. I’ll call you in the next day or so, all right?”
“Good night, Gregory.”
We hung up. Just in time, because a pugnacious Nathan Connors pushed his way into the room and slung his bag onto the top bunk.
“Nathan,” I said.
“I want to talk with you, Fitzgerald.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”
“You screwing Savannah.”
Something about his obnoxious little face, or the contemptuous wording he used, infuriated me. Not to mention the fact that she’d spoken to Nathan, of all people, about it. I'd been right to be concerned she'd choose him to speak with. I’d have been happier if she’d picked just about anyone else on earth to confide in. Anyone else.
“Don’t you dare speak about her that way,” I said.
His cheeks were red, his eyes wide, aggressive. “That’s a fucking laugh, Fitzgerald. You break my friend’s heart, and you tell me not to talk about her in a way that displeases you?”
I leveled my gaze at him and said, “Nathan, I really don’t have time for this right now. You’re standing in between me and the lounge car.”
“You leave her alone,” he said. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t touch her. You don’t fucking hurt her.”
I’d had enough. I’d awakened that morning in absolute bliss, with the love of my life beside me, only to have my wife destroy that moment. My wife, who was busy trying to get pregnant without asking me. I’d been yelled at, watched Savannah run off into traffic, I’d hit my head, been kept up on a train half the night, been forced to room with a too young and far too irritating member of this orchestra, and now I had to listen to this? I was done.
“Get out of my way. Now.”
He stepped back. The menace in my tone was unmistakable. I held a finger up in his face. “The fact that we’re colleagues does not make you my equal, Mr. Connors. You will never speak to me that way again. I care for that woman more than you can possibly imagine.”
His eyes narrowed, and he took a breath to speak, but I pushed him back. “Don’t cross me, Nathan.”
He muttered, “If you hurt her, I’ll ruin you, Fitzgerald. Your precious fucking career will never survive it. I guarantee you that.”
I leaned close to him and said in a low tone, “Just remember when you make threats, that I was sitting in my seat with the Boston Symphony before you were even old enough to care about girls and their feelings. I have enough pull to make your fucking career miserable. Now back the fuck off.” Then I backed up, opened the door to the sleeper and walked out into the corridor.
I wasn’t proud of myself. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t anything but pissed off and sorely in need of a drink. Five minutes later I found my way to the lounge car. Two minutes after that I’d tossed back my first gin and tonic and ordered another. It was late, and I was tired, and we had a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I was regretting accepting a seat on this roving tour. I was too old for this crap, and the last thing I needed to deal with was Nathan fucking Connors back in my room.
I shook my head. The hell of it was ... if it was true? That Karin had just found out she was sterile, or infertile, or whatever the hell they call it? Then I was stuck with her, at least for the time being. Because what kind of bastard leaves his wife when she's heartbroken?
I stared at my drink. And tried not to think about it. Because one thing I’d always been was someone who could look in the mirror with pride. But twice now ... both times with Savannah ... I’d destroyed that. The first time, when I didn’t risk it. When I didn’t go after her. When I told James I’d cut off contact. It broke her heart, and it broke my soul.
The second time ... hard to believe it was only twenty-four hours ago. Twenty-four hours to ruin my life. Twenty-four hours to break her heart. I loved Savannah, and I’d do anything, anything at all, to have her in my life.
And she was the one thing I couldn’t have.
I tossed back my second drink then leaned my head on my hands for just a moment, rubbing my eyes. I kept them closed, leaning that way. Then I heard a voice.
Her voice.
She sounded exhausted, her voice rough, gravelly almost.
“Another gin and tonic for him. Red wine for me.”
I lifted my face from my hands. And Savannah sat down across from me.
Gregory
Every few minutes a light flashed by, the railcar rocked periodically, and the wheels rattled with their own rhythmic beauty as the train sped through the darkness. I don’t know how much further we travelled before we spoke. It could have been a hundred yards, or it could have been a hundred miles. I stared at her, rocking a little in my seat as the car moved.
She had dark circles under her eyes, which didn’t suit her at all, and her face was even more pale than normal. She sat back and sipped her wine and seemed to study me.
“Does this mean we’re speaking again?” I asked.
“We never stopped speaking. I just needed time to think.” As she said the words, she looked almost drained of emotion. She let out a long sigh, and I must have mirrored it, because her mouth quirked up on one side in a tiny smile.
“Tired?” I asked.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she replied, raising one eyebrow. Her tone was light, and she looked at me over her plastic wine glass as she said the words.