Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(91)

I wanted every sigh. I wanted my skin against hers. I wanted to touch her.

Eventually, that time would come, and I’d wait for it patiently and gladly. Because the truth was that I loved her. I loved her, and someday, I would say those words written on my heart.

And in the meantime, I would show her with every action, every kiss, every touch that I was hers.





26





First and Last





Annie

A river of sound spilled from the piano at my fingertips as the Rachmaninoff sonata came to a close, echoing from the walls, filling the room with its ebb and flow until it drifted away, note by precious note.

I smiled and stood, bowed to the audition committee with wobbly knees as they thanked me for the hour-long performance, their faces unreadable though pleasant. I made my way down the line of them and shook their hands through a fog of adrenaline. And, having nothing to gather but myself, I left the audition room.

Greg jumped to his feet and swept me into his arms, spinning me around in the hallway. “God, Annie, that was beautiful.”

I laughed and kissed him. When I pulled away, I gazed up into his adoring face. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t tell if you messed up. It went too fast.”

“I did but nothing major. I don’t think it will crush my chances. At least, I hope not. Anyone who could perform for that long and not mess up would have to be superhuman, and if they’ve got mutants at Juilliard, I’m probably better off elsewhere.”

Greg hadn’t let me go yet, and I stood there in the halls of Juilliard with his arms around me and mine around him.

“You did it.”

I smiled. “I did it.”

“You tired?”

“A little bit. But I’ve done nothing for the last week but practice the whole run-through. It’s like training for a marathon but for my fingers.”

“Are you still up for today?” There was trepidation in his voice, behind his eyes. He was giving me an out.

I smirked. “Why? Trying to back out on me?”

A little laugh puffed out of him. “Never in a million years. I just want to make sure you’re ready,” he added with sincerity.

“I’m ready,” I answered without hesitation.

His hands moved from my waist to my cheeks, which he held with reverence as he kissed me gently, sweetly. “Then let’s go.”

He took my hand, and I followed him out. I’d follow him anywhere.

The sky was blue and cloudless and as high as my hope as we walked toward the park. My chin lifted, eyes up, admiring the shade of blue, and when I sighed, Greg pulled me closer.

“I’m trying to decide just what color the sky is,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist with my gaze still up. “It’s like Caribbean ocean on white sand or the color of rock candy. Or spun sugar, soft but…electric, layers and layers of color so deep that it almost seems endless.”

“I don’t know how you do that, Annie.”

“Do what?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

“Make the ordinary extraordinary.”

My heart sang, my face angling for his. He took the signal, pressing a swift kiss to my lips.

“You live out loud,” he said when we settled back into our pace. “It’s just like your list says. Just like your dad would have wanted.”

“I wish you could have met him.”

“So do I,” he said quietly.

“You would have been friends. He would have approved of you. He might have tried to scare the shit out of you first, but once you understood murder was on the table in exchange for my virtue and honor, you would have been thick as thieves.”

Greg chuckled.

“Anyway, I think I’m going to retire my list.”

“Oh?” The single-syllabled question was laden with curiosity.

“I started the list as a girl who wanted to start over, move on, live a life that was full of intention, and I am. Its purpose is fulfilled. In fact, I think its purpose was to lead me to you.”

He pulled me to a stop on the sidewalk, his eyes bright with love and adoration, his heart shining behind them as he held my face as he so often did, as if I were precious and fragile and priceless. And when he kissed me, I knew he loved me. The words had never been uttered, but I knew it all the same.

Once I was safely tucked under his arm again, we headed into the park. I didn’t have to stop once to rest, never had to catch my breath, didn’t break out into a sweat or need to down a gallon of water. That was still a marvelous thing in itself.

Over the last week, I’d felt so good that Greg and I had even gone for a jog just to see if I could.

I could. I also discovered that running was the actual worst and vowed never to do it again unless someone was after me with a weapon.

But through it all, through good days and bad, Greg was there with warm hands and deep eyes and lips that I needed and wanted and dreamed of.

Today was a day to celebrate, and we had big plans.

A wild, late season flurry had dropped nearly two inches of snow the day before, blanketing the city in a colorless layer of magic. Of course, today it was a sooty, filthy shade of slate, pushed off to the gutters and clinging to the feet of the buildings. But the park was untouched by a thousand boots and tires and exhaust pipes.