Nocturne(120)

I didn’t want to bring it up, but for once I had to. “But, your wife …” I swallowed the pain of that phrase and stared straight ahead.

“We divorced. It was final a few days before Christmas.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back.

“So … you didn’t leave because you stayed with Karin and decided to have children?” I’d intended that to be more of an internal, rhetorical thought, but it spilled out anyway. Gregory’s eyes bulged as he leaned his head forward as if he hadn’t heard me properly.

“Children? Savannah—”

“I know,” I cut him off, “I know you said you don’t want kids, but there was no reason for you to leave the BSO, or to sell your cello … or to come here.”

I sniffed as the wind bit at my eyes and nose. Finally directing my eyes back to him, I said, “What are you doing here?” My teeth chattered in the pause before his answer.

“I came here to ask for your forgiveness.”

My forgiveness? “I don’t ... forgive what?”

He stepped closer to me ... an inch? More? I have no idea how close. Then he said, “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I couldn’t put you first. I had … too much … weight in my life. The cello, the career, Karin ... all of it. I … I’m asking you to forgive me for not doing what I should have done five years ago. Because I love you.”

“You—” I wasn’t given the opportunity to finish my thought as he pulled me to his body.

For months I tried to forget the feel of his shoulders and chest, but they felt the same. Just as I’d remembered. He smelled the same, felt the same, and, most disturbing of all, made me feel the same as he always had. Not only could I not look away, not fight him. I didn’t want to. One of his hands slipped around the back of my neck, causing me to lean my head to the side.

“No … you.” His hand gently led me forward, and as I watched his lips part, mine did, too. Then our lips were touching, tentatively at first, and then he pulled me tight against him, his lips insatiable against mine.

I couldn’t have fought it even if I'd wanted to. My lips molded with his so effortlessly, it was like they hadn’t missed a day. Only, they had. They’d missed the last four months and most of the five years before that. Just as the tip of his tongue grazed my bottom lip, I pulled away.

“Wait.” I planted my palms against his shoulders, keeping him at arms’ length. “You can’t leave because of me. You’ll resent me for it. I’ve seen it happen, Gregory, and I can’t let you do that to yourself. Or me.”

“I’d never resent you. I didn’t leave because of you, Savannah. I left because of me. Because of the person I’d become, and the one I want to be. I’m no longer willing to spend my life walled away with just my music. You’ve taught me that life can mean so much more than that.” He leaned in to begin kissing me again, but I turned my head.

“I live here, Gregory. I have an apartment, and a job that fulfills me, and a life that’s mine. I don’t know,” I paused and looked to my left and right before whispering the rest of my sentence, “I don’t know if I’m going to stay with the Bolshoi, but I plan on staying in Europe for a while.”

He gently grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned my head so I’d look at him. “Savannah, haven’t you listened? I’m … I want to be with you. I can play anywhere. Or not. Even if I never join another symphony I’ve had a career I can be damn proud of. I want to support you and love you and … be with you.”

“That’s what my dad said to my mother.”

“Jesus,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug once more and resting his lips against my neck. “This isn’t the same thing. You know that. There’s nothing else I can say to … hey, dance with me?”

“What?” I wiped a stubborn, and slightly frozen, tear from my cheek.

“Come dance with me. Inside.” Gregory stepped toward the door and held out his arm, saying no more.

Wiggling out of his tuxedo coat, I said, “You’re going to need this.”

After fastening the button and adjusting his cufflinks, he placed his hand on the door handle, but paused and took my hand in his. “Before we go in, I want you to know how absolutely stunning you look this evening, Savannah. Now and every other evening since I’ve known you. I never said it enough, because you struck me speechless more than I care to admit.”

My cheeks welcomed the blush overcoming them, and I kissed him softly before opening the door myself. “Thank you.”

Inside he took my hand, pulling me toward the still crowded dance floor. My chest tightened a little as I followed him. Despite his words, the fear of ending the night, once again, with a broken heart, pulled me back. I would dance with him. But I needed more. I needed to know I could depend on him. I needed to know that this was actually going somewhere.

My trepidation ceased as he took my right hand in his left, and put his other hand on my waist. Seconds later we were dancing, and it was as seamless as it had ever been. He stayed quiet, but his eyes said everything. He still loved me, but I wasn’t sure that was enough.

Neither of us really led, because we didn’t need to. Just as we responded to each other without words on the stage, communicating with the notes, the tempo, the harmony, so we communicated on the dance floor with our bodies. Our feet and legs and bodies moved together in unfaltering rhythm, and the longer I looked at him, the longer I felt his body against mine, the longer I smelled him, the less I could imagine letting him leave when the song ended.