Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

actually started out as a violinist, you know. When I was a little girl.”
    “You did?”
    “Yes. But I gave it up when I realized I’d never be more than competent.”
    “Being a competent violinist isn’t anything to sneeze at.”
    “No, but it would have broken my heart. Bach deserves to be played like...well, like we heard tonight. I was twelve when I quit, and for a year I didn’t play music at all. Then I got my first guitar.”
    “And you knew you’d be more than a competent guitarist?”
    “No, it wasn’t that. It was more like...it didn’t matter if I was just competent, or even less than competent. I just had to play it. You know?”
    “I know. I love watching you play. When you hold your guitar, it’s like it’s a part of you. I’ve seen surgeons hold their instruments that way.”
    “That almost makes me want to observe you doing surgery.”
    He grinned at her. “It wouldn’t be like watching a musician perform.”
    “Probably not,” she agreed. “On the other hand, music has never actually saved anyone’s life. So far as I know, anyway.”
    A little later Jenna was lying on her stomach with her head pillowed on her arms, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Michael was lying beside her, stroking her back softly.
    “Why did you get this tattoo?” he asked suddenly, tracing the notes with a fingertip. “Out of all the music in the world, why do you love this particular concerto so much?”
    She turned on her side to face him. “Why do you love it?”
    “I don’t know. I just always have. But I thought you might have a better reason than that,” he added with a smile.
    She felt an odd reluctance to talk about it. “Well...it’s actually an unusual piece of music. Most of the time, when there are two leading parts like that, the two lines aren’t really equal. One of them is always subordinate to the other. Or else both parts are dependent on each other, neither of them able to stand alone. But in the Concerto for Two Violins , neither part is secondary. They’re both equally strong, whole and complete on their own. But when they’re played together, something amazing happens. There’s this alchemy, this...”
    She paused, and for some reason couldn’t finish the sentence.
    Michael finished it for her. “Magic,” he said softly.
    She nodded, not looking at him.
    They lay in silence for a long time. Jenna closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she saw that the first faint light of dawn had crept into the room.
    “It’s morning,” she said, sitting up in bed and wrapping her arms around her knees.
    Michael sat up, too. “Claire’s plane will be landing in a few hours.”
    She nodded, not sure what to say. She’d put off even thinking about this moment, and now that it was here, she wasn’t ready for it.
    Michael got out of bed and started to get dressed. She watched him in silence.
    “Thank you for last night,” she said after a minute, ashamed at how forlorn she sounded.
    He finished tying his shoes before he looked at her. They stared at each other for a second and then he was there, by her side, wrapping her up in a fierce hug. “Thanks for the last two weeks,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair.
    “I loved being with you,” she said, pressing her face against his shirt. “I’ll never forget it.”
    “Neither will I.”
    He hugged her again, and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her forehead. “Claire will want to see you as soon as we get back from the airport.”
    “I’ll be home all day today, so she can come by whenever she wants. I’m excited to see her again.”
    “She’ll be excited to see you, too.”
    He let her go then, getting off the bed and moving towards the door.
    She knew she was only a few seconds away from crying. But he was almost gone—she just had to hang on a little longer.
    Then he paused in the doorway, his back to her. He stood like that for more than a minute. Even from across the room she could feel the tension in him.
    Suddenly afraid, Jenna jumped out of bed and went to her dresser. She pulled on sweatpants and a tee shirt.
    “I still have so much to do downstairs. I should really finish painting the—”
    “Jenna.”
    She leaned back against the dresser. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”
    He turned then, and her heart skipped a beat. “I can’t help it,” he said in a low voice.
    “Michael—”
    “Can’t we at least talk about it?”
    She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It won’t do any