Player(91)

Her eyes widened. “Did you?”

I nodded, smiling. “We’ll see what happens. I didn’t want to put this one in a drawer with the others. Because I’ve learned that if I’m afraid to jump, it’s because what I want is worth the risk. It’s worth falling for. It’s worth failing for. Worth fighting for. Now my only fear is of not jumping.”

“Just jump,” she said. “Like you taught me.”

I leaned in for another kiss, saying against her lips, “Like you taught me.”

The brush of our lips was brief and sweet. The music around us came to a close, and the orchestra stood, clapping and whistling. And when the ruckus died down, the crew finally began to pack up. Val did the same, and when her instrument was in its case, I hooked it on my shoulder and pulled her into my side.

We strode out of the theater with her fitted under my arm, greeted by the crisp night.

“I’ve missed you,” she said.

I kissed the top of her head. “You have no idea. I didn’t leave my apartment but once since that night. I didn’t shower for an unspeakable portion of that week either.”

She chuckled. “What were you doing?”

“Writing. Contemplating my life choices. Missing you.”

Val’s free hand wrapped around my middle to join the one already curled behind my back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong—that was all me.”

“I’m sorry that you were upset. I know it wasn’t my fault.”

“I lied to you.”

“You did,” she said. “By omission, but you lied. And you misled me. But you were being noble. A noble, lying asshole.”

I chuckled against the ache in my chest. “He said he was going after you, and I knew he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t give up. But he did it because he knew I wanted you for myself. He did it because he wanted to hurt me. I don’t think he even considered what it would do to you.”

“Why were you friends with him, Sam? He’s so…God, he’s fucking awful.”

“Loyalty, I guess. I’ve seen every side of him, and I thought I knew all his faces. He’s thrown me under the bus before, but usually it’s to save his own ass. This time, he just wanted to watch me fail. He got his wish.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Val. Please. I can’t take it.”

She sighed. “At least you got to hit him. How’d it feel?”

“Who told you?”

“Dante.”

“Ah,” I said with a nod. “It hurt like a motherfucker and was simultaneously the most satisfying moment of my life, besides tonight.”

Another sigh. This time, I could hear her smiling. “You wrote me a symphony.”

“And you love me.”

“And you love me, too. It’s a night of firsts.”

I didn't speak for a moment as we trotted down the stairs to the train. “Did you open your birthday present?”

She looked up at me, her face soft and open. “I did. I cried for half an hour afterward, but I opened it. Sam…they’re beautiful.”

We passed the turnstile. I was thankful for a second to process her crying for a half hour over me. It made me even sicker to consider that half hour had probably only been the tip of the iceberg.

“I used to watch my mom put on her makeup, and I’d dig through her big jewelry box that sat on her vanity. It was full of so many baubles, shiny gems, milky pearls. I used to imagine I was a pirate, and that was my treasure, piles of jewelry and gems I’d collected from the corners of the world. She has dozens of hair combs—beautiful, elaborate pieces. Some were my grandmother’s, some older. But she would always tell me one day, I’d meet a girl and give her a hair comb, and she’d be mine. When she wore it, I’d think of how she belonged to me and how I would belong to her.”

We stopped at the edge of the empty platform, the trough for the train dark and rough, metal and rock and oil. I turned to face her, pulled her flush to me, looked into the depths of her eyes.

“I thought of it like a fairy tale, as real as the possibility of my actually becoming a pirate. And then I met you.”

Her cheek was warm against my palm, her skin soft beneath my fingertips.

“You’re my fairy tale.” I brought my lips to hers as the train flew into the station, the current of air twisting around us as we twisted around each other, lifting her hair, licking the edges of my coat, lifting us with force we couldn’t see.

We felt it all the same.

The train stopped, the doors opened. And only then did I let her go, towing her behind me, then pulling her into me. We didn’t speak. She held on to me, her face pressed against my chest, and I held on to her as the train took off, clacking down the track. Two stops, and we were moving again. Not a second had passed that we weren’t touching other than our passage of the turnstiles. It was too much, the relief. The deliverance. I felt like I was breathing for the first time in a week.

Maybe ever.

In silence, we walked to my apartment, our pace picking up with every block. And then we climbed the stairs, crossed my threshold, closed the door, stood still in the quiet, dark room, face to face.

I traced the line of her jaw, held it in my hands. “I love you, Val. I love every angle, every curve. Every freckle and every curl. Every smile, every laugh, every tear. I love you, all of you.”