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Sebastian
Sebastian let Maelie leave late Monday morning only because she swore she needed her violin to teach. He tried to convince her she could do without, but she kissed him until he acquiesced.
The second she left his apartment, all the light left with her. The space felt heavy and lonely again, and he sat down on his couch wondering what the hell he was feeling.
It had been quite literally the best weekend of his life. Everything she said, every move she made enchanted him more. And her fucking body ... Jesus, there were no words. Her tits were full, her hips made his mouth water, and being inside her?
He was hard again just thinking about it.
He had had some amazing sex in his life with gorgeous women in exotic locations, but he’d never felt a connection like this. Where one night had usually been enough to quench his thirst before, he felt like he’d never get enough of Maelie. He was like a man caught in the desert with no relief in sight but her.
The fact that a woman like her gave him the time of day at all, much less her body, made his mind reel. He wasn’t worthy of her, and yet she had spent the entire weekend in his arms.
He even had the suspicion she felt the same way. Whatever way that might be.
Wiping a hand down his face, he stared out the window at the cold, grey sky and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do next. He’d never actually dated a girl, never had a girlfriend. He’d had no need.
How did one know when they were dating? Did he ask her? Did he want to? After all, he’d be back with the band hopefully by mid-summer. What then? How would he be able to stand being thousands of miles away from her when he was aching for her now?
Shit. He didn’t have a clue.
The only person that came to mind to ask was Dom. And though he passionately hated the idea, Dom was usually the first place he went for advice. Out of the three of them, he had the most analytical brain. Mason would just poke fun at him for twenty minutes, and he wasn’t in the mood for that.
With a sigh he fired off a text to Dom.
SEB: Hey, free any time this week?
Deciding he should shower, his body ached when he got off the couch. He had made love to Maelie so many times, his muscles felt as if he had been through the Chicago marathon twice.
He let the hot water run over his muscles to ease the ache, and when he got out, he had a text from Dom. And one from Mae. He smiled at the sight of her name and wondered if she was missing him too. He frowned as he realized how much the answer meant to him.
To distract himself, he opened Dom’s text first.
DOM: Sure man, I’m off school today, want to grab lunch?
SEB: Off school, why?
DOM: President’s day.
SEB: Jesus, any excuse to cancel school.
DOM: Absolutely, best part of the job.
SEB: Definitely down for lunch, meet at Hot’s? Noon?
DOM: Cool, man, see you then.
Feeling better already, he clicked on Maelie’s text and his heart filled with happiness. He sat on his bed, still in only a towel, and savored the moment.
MAELIE: Is it weird that I want more of you?
He took a deep breath and responded, smiling like an idiot.
SEB: If it is, I’m guilty too.
MAELIE: I mean, I can barely walk right now...
He laughed, rather proud he had made her that way. He puffed out his chest a little.
SEB: Me either but I’d still love it if you came over tonight.
MAELIE: I mean, we could just cuddle and talk about our hopes and dreams...
He very much doubted there would be any cuddling without a raucous romp first. Either way, he wanted to see her and was shocked to realize he wouldn’t mind an evening of cuddling and talking. It actually sounded, dare he say it, nice.
WHO WAS HE?
SEB: We can do whatever you want, babe. Count me in.
MAELIE: Oooh, I’m going to paint your nails and braid your hair while we watch romantic movies.
He chuckled. Oddly, he was still in.
SEB: You’ll have to bring the polish, I’m fresh out.
MAELIE: Noted, I’ll follow you home from Hanson?
SEB: You’d better.
MAELIE: Deal.
Wiping the stupid smile off his face, he got up and got ready to meet Dom for lunch. He also wanted to get to Hanson early enough to look for the etude and pedagogy books Maelie had suggested.
In less than thirty minutes, he was waiting for Dom inside their favorite Chicago Dog restaurant. Dom actually did a double-take when he saw him already seated at a table.
“Holy shit,” Dom let out as he came through the door of the tiny restaurant. He looked as cool as ever, all wrapped up in a stylish coat and scarf. Seb didn’t think he’d ever seen Dom looking anything less than perfect. As he got older, he looked so much like his father, it took Seb’s breath away. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the new and always-on-time Seb Adams.”
Seb stood up to give him a hug. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you guys didn’t bring it up every fucking time.”
Dom shrugged. “Probably not going to happen, man.”
They ordered their food and settled in. Dom draped his coat on the back of his chair, scooted forward, and cut to the chase. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Can’t I just want to have lunch with my brother?”
Dom shook his head. “Not Mr. Sleep-Till-Two-P.M.” He put his hands on the table. “So, spill it.”
Seb panicked briefly. This was clearly a mistake; Dom would overthink it and tell Mason, and then he would be truly fucked.
Shit.
“Holy shit,” Dom said for the second time that day. “It’s about that violin chick, Mae something or other, isn’t it?”
“Maelie.” He sank in defeat. Dom had always seen right through him. He had been able to fool almost everybody with his cool-guy jazz persona, but not Dom. He braced for incoming jibes.
But Dom didn’t tease him. He did have the type of grin that said both “I told you this would happen someday” and “It’s about time, dumbass,” but he didn’t tease him.
Miracles did happen.
“Well, first of all,” Dom started, scooting in his chair so they could have a private conversation. “I’m happy for you; there isn’t anything better than having a woman you love—”
“Whoa,” Seb cut him off. “I didn’t say anything about love. Back it up a little please.”
His brother didn’t argue with him but had an “I know better” arch to his brow. “Okay, fine,then what is it that you want to know?”
Seb took a deep breath and looked at his hands, suddenly feeling like a teenager asking his big brother about girls. “I literally have no idea how to proceed. I mean, I haven’t dated anyone.” He paused, feeling lame, and added, “Ever.”
“Other than Katie Garret,” Dom pointed out.
Seb gave him an irritated look. “That was sixth grade, man. No one since then.”
“Look”—Dom scooted in even more—“the only advice I have for you is this: if you enjoy being around her and she makes your life better, then spend time with her. All the other stuff”—he made a motion with his hand—“the labels and big moments will happen on their own. You have to trust your gut, and”—he looked around the restaurant before saying in an even lower voice—“don’t ever tell Mason I said this, but you have to trust your heart too.”
Seb pulled a customary look of disgust but quickly realized it was solid advice. As usual, he had been thinking too hard about it. He sat back in his chair. “Honestly, the thing I’m most worried about is what will happen when I go back on tour with the band. What if I get too attached?”
Dom sat back in his chair a little and thought about it. “It’s a valid concern,” he answered honestly. “But if she supports you, and she’s a musician, so I’m sure she does, I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about. And who knows? You might find you want to stay here and put down roots for once.”
Seb laughed out loud at the last part. The Jazzmen was his life. Touring was the only thing he knew how to do, and he loved it. These two months of grounding had been the hardest shit he had ever gone through. The only bright spot was Mae. “That’s not very likely, man.”
Dom was about to answer when the waitress stopped at their table with their order.
They tucked in immediately.
“I’m just saying,” Dom offered around a mouthful of hotdog, “that the right woman can make your priorities change.”
He took a bite of his own and shook his head. Maelie was wonderful, but touring was his life. There wasn’t anything he could imagine that could change his mind about that. Even if she did have killer hips and a smile that made his heart do cartwheels, his first love would always be music.
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Maelie
“Tell. Me. Everything,” Jessie demanded the moment Mae got home from Seb’s. She even followed her into her bedroom in her bright purple pajamas. “I need details, girl.”
Maelie was so full of emotions, she didn’t even know where to start, so she sat on the edge of the bed and told her everything. Almost everything. She didn’t mention the moment they had shared over his composition. That felt too special to share with anyone other than Seb.
Jessie oohed and aahed appropriately, squealing with excitement when she revealed she was going back to his place that night.
Their girly giggles were interrupted by a knock on the front door.
Jessie looked at her with raised brows. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
There was another knock followed by a baritone voice. “Maelie Fabienne Barre, answer this door.”
“Dad.” She groaned and marched to the front door like a petulant teenager.
She flung the door open with a disdainful “What?”
And there he was, in all his coiffed glory in stylish knee-length coat, Burberry scarf, and immaculate leather gloves. His face was full of disapproval. “Is that really how you answer the door?”
She didn’t know why, but his French accent made everything he said that much more condescending. “For you, yes,” she answered dryly and then motioned for him to enter the apartment.
He looked around with a scornful eye. “Maelie, why do you live in such a place? You know I can get you much better accommodations in a better part of town.”
“Yes, Dad, I know.” She slumped onto a corner of her couch. “I like providing for myself. And I like this neighborhood.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, removed his gloves one by one, unwound his scarf, and draped them all over the back of the sofa before he joined her there. He sat on the very edge as if the idea of leaning against anything not made of leather was beneath him.
She reveled in how out of place he was. His discomfort brought her immense pleasure. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re here, slumming it with your daughter?”
He ignored her comment. “I came to discuss your audition with the Phil.”
“I’m not auditioning for the Phil,” she reminded him calmly. He wasn’t going to break her on this. Her book and teaching were more important to her than anything he wanted her to do.
He let out a sigh. “Why are you like this, Maelie? I gave you the best life a child could ask for, the best teachers, the best opportunities. I just don’t understand.”
“That’s just it, Dad, you did. And I’m grateful for the education and the life I’ve had, but I want to teach, I want to create pedagogy books that help children who don’t have the opportunities I had to reach their potential.”
“That store is beneath you,” he cut in, completely missing the heart of her explanation.
She let out a sigh. “Nothing is beneath me, Dad; I don’t set myself up so high as you do.”
She could see the anger start to boil in his face. He turned to her with a stone-cold look in his eyes and spelled it out for her. “If you do not audition for the Phil, with all the strings I’ve pulled for you, I will disown you. Do you understand? He narrowed his eyes before he took the kill shot. “I will take back the Lorenzini.”
She gasped and sat forward. She didn’t care about being disowned, but the threat to take her violin, her Betsy, riled an anger in her she had never felt before. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would,” he assured her, and she believed him. After a beat, he pushed himself up from the couch and started putting his coat back on.
She was on her feet in an instant. “You can’t do that, I’ve had that violin since college, it's mine.”
“Paid for by me.” His voice was calm as he pulled on his gloves. “It’s really rather simple, Mae. You audition, you make it in, you accept the position, you keep the violin.”
She sunk back into the sofa in a daze as he finished putting all of his winter paraphernalia on. “I really don’t understand why you make this wretched city your home,” he commented before letting himself out of her apartment with a slam of the door.
Jessie came into the living room with wide eyes, her hair tied up in a crazy bun. “Are you all right?”
Stunned, Maelie sat there for a moment.
When she didn’t answer, Jessie sat down next to her on the couch. “I accidentally heard everything,” she told her. “Mostly because I was eavesdropping.”
Maelie blinked. He couldn’t take Betsy. They had been together for so long now, they were connected.
“Mae”—Jessie took her hand—“snap out of it. Are you okay?”
She shook her head to clear her brain and then focused on Jessie. “He can’t take Betsy.” Tears and anger bubbled up in her throat into one big painful lump. “What will I do?”
Jessie pursed her lips. “Can you buy it from him?”
She let out a pathetic cry. “I can’t afford her; she’s worth well over one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Oh, shit.” Jessie’s posture deflated. She was quiet for a beat before she asked, “What if you go to New York and blow it? I mean, do terribly so they don’t want to hire you?”
Maelie’s face finally crumpled with the tears she had been fighting. “He said I had to make it in to keep her.” Shit. What did she do? She didn’t want to audition, but she couldn’t let her violin go. And if she went and made it in and spent a year there, her life in Chicago would never be the same. And then there was Seb ...
“Oh, Mae,” Jessie cooed, pulling her into her arms, “it’ll be okay; we’ll figure something out.”
Maelie let her friend hold her as she cried for the next several minutes. She had never felt so defeated in her entire life.
“Maybe you can find a sponsor that will buy the violin for you?” Jessie offered hopefully.
She just snorted, pulled out of her hold, and wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand. “I don’t know anyone that can do that.”
Jessie kept a hold of her hand. “Me either. But stay positive, we’ll think of something.”
She just nodded sadly.
“At least you get to spend the night with Sebastian,” she offered, her voice going up in pitch. “Can you imagine what your father might think of you doing that?”
Maelie laughed outright through her tears. He would fucking hate Seb. He hated everything about jazz and jazz musicians. The idea made her spirits skyrocket. “Well, there is that,” she agreed, cracking a smile.