No Strings Attached (15 page)

Tree frogs and crickets created an orchestra of their own as we went up one street and down another. The air, even this late at night, was warm, but it sure beat being clammy. Dry heat I could stand, but once the humidity kicked in, I could hardly breathe. Fortunately, we didn't have to worry about the suffocating air for another week or so, but the rising temperatures promised this would be one of the hottest summers we'd had in years.

Casually holding my hand in his own, Thayre looked up through the canopy of branches that happened to grow over the street. Usually, the township trimmed branches such as these, but for now, they offered an added layer of mystery between us and the night sky.

“I still can't believe Tabby,” I said, grinning as much from the scene we came across this morning as the chirping of frogs not too far in the distance.

“She did say it was planned before she signed on with us,” Thayre said, his eyes focused on something I couldn't see.

“Well yeah, I know that. I was mostly talking about her not telling anyone.”

“In her defense, she probably didn't know anything about
The Best Days of Summer.
And while she's lived in town for some time, a lot of the folks who live in the area aren't aware of all the festivities that go on throughout the year. Take Memorial Day for example. Did you know they have a full parade in town?”

I shook my head. “Isn't that meant for the city?”

“It can be, but not always. I think the parades have been going on since before we went to college.”

“Shows how often I get out of the house.”

“Or read the paper.” He gave me a pointed look.

“You know, Tabby wasn't the only decent musician in town today. You ever think of hiring one of them?”

“Without an audition or an application?” He exhaled, then smiled at me. “Okay, so aside from you I mean—no, I never really thought of it. Then again, I never really went looking for musicians while in town. Some of the folks playing in town came from other communities. No doubt they have orchestras or bands of their own.”

I nodded. “Makes sense.” We turned the corner, and I slowed my pace, not quite ready to head inside. “Can I ask you something?”

Thayre went from his usual brisk pace to something less strenuous so I didn't have to struggle to keep up with him. “Depends who's asking.” He met my gaze. “If it's my sub, those things are best addressed indoors. However, if my first violinist wants a word, I suppose I have some time to kill.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “I don't know how to start.”

“You have doubts, I get it. But then, you always have.” He stopped walking, then turned us around and led me in the opposite direction. “You've always doubted your abilities, even in school. You're too hard on yourself, and you should never be worse on yourself than your conductor.”

“Maybe you're too soft.”

“I beg your pardon?” He set a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“You do have a sweet spot for me.” I laughed and ducked right as he went to gently punch me in the arm. “Come on, like you didn't already know this.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough, but I don't think that's what you wanted to talk about.”

I let my shoulders drop and stared at my feet. “How do you know I'm ready for something like this?”

“Because, no matter how bad the nerves might be, every single one of my musicians went through something similar to this before their first big job.”

“But this isn't just any show.”

“No, and you aren't just any violinist, either.” He stopped me and lifted my chin. “Trust me, Moyra, you have nothing to worry about.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I fought them back, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “I don't want to choose.”

“Choose? Moyra, baby, choose between what?”

This is stupid.
He wouldn't understand. Music
was
his passion, and while we'd been together and shared a bed with one another, I highly doubt—

“Moyra?”

I dropped my gaze. Met his again. “Between us and our music.”

He took my hands in his, and at first, I wasn't sure if he'd say anything at all. “Is that what's been worrying you?” He took me in his arms and held me tight. “I would never, ever make you choose between what we have as a couple, and what we share as musicians.”

“But we can't have both.”

“Why not?”

Why indeed.
I didn't have an answer. Whenever I thought of what we had—
everything
we shared—I couldn't see both sides of this relationship lasting. Sooner or later, something would give out. Someone would get hurt. And I didn't want to delay the inevitable. “Because eventually, possibly years down the road, something will happen to take one part of that away.”

“And you don't want to wait and see what happens?” He placed his hands between us, but only so he could step back enough to see my face. “I'm not going to lie—this isn't easy for either of us. Juggling two different lives, especially when one involves a D/s dynamic is a lot harder than if we shared our bed without bondage, whips or chains. But that's no reason to walk away from what we have. Is it scary? Of course it is, but it's also exhilarating. I've never felt this alive playing music. But, Moyra, if I had to choose—right here, right now—it'd be you with all the strings attached. Music will always have a place in my heart, but I don't have to play it to enjoy it.” He lowered his voice, then, pressing his forehead to mine, he said, “I love you, Moyra, and if I ever need to make that choice, I'll always pick you. No matter what.”

I choked on my tears. Sobbed his name, then buried my face in his neck as I cried. And he held me, tight as ever, refusing to let go well after my eyes had run dry and my voice had reached a bit normalcy.

It was then, in the comfort of his arms, that I whispered the words I'd been wanting to say shortly after he brought me back into his life. “I love you, too.”
So damn much it hurts.

Thayre lifted my chin. “Let's go home.”

* * * * *

I
f today's activities hadn't kept me awake last night, Thayre and I confessing our love for one another most certainly did. Lying beside him, I knew he was asleep once his breaths leveled out and he stopped rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. But try as I might, I couldn't sleep. I was exhausted. My eyelids were heavy. But at the same time, I was the most alive I'd been in months. Years.

Submission was one thing, as was trust. But love? Being with Thayre now, I couldn't say I knew what love truly was until we both spoke the words and physically felt it. Bret used to say it to me, and I'd always returned it, but it didn't feel anywhere close to this. It was as though every time I tried to close my eyes, I wanted to stay awake that much longer to watch Thayre sleep. To catch him dreaming, or mumbling something into his pillow as he flipped over from his side onto his stomach.

It was small, and probably insignificant to a more established couple, but those very simple things held my interest well into morning. As the calm whispers of daylight peeked in through Thayre's bedroom windows, I propped myself up on an elbow and played with the curls along the back of his neck.

Music had somehow taken a backseat overnight, but for once, my changing passions didn't bother me. If anything, I was relieved to finally have my heart set on the thing that mattered most.
Thayre.

He'd been the center of my life from the moment he found me out in the rain. And while our love for music had helped me connect with him after so many years, it served as a bridge for us to move away from the strange and unfamiliar to what we had now.

I'd never make him choose between myself or his music, but when he told me he'd pick me every time, he quieted whatever nerves I had left.
Now, if you can work your way through today, you'll be set.

I smiled when he cracked open an eye and shut it just as quickly from the morning light. “Morning,” I said, sitting up to face him.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and, very groggily, got up to join me in a lazy kiss. “You're up early.” He squinted at the alarm clock on my side of the bed. “It's only seven-thirty. Go back to sleep.”

I shivered and played with the blankets that had fallen into my lap. “I'll be fine. So, not much of a morning person today, hmm?”

Usually, he was the first out of bed, but for now, he settled under the covers and buried his head on the pillow to make his point. “Too bright.”

“It's not my fault you forgot to close the shades before bed. Besides, you do remember we promised to help Tabby. You need to get up. No sleeping in.”

He blindly waved his arm in my direction but missed his mark as I got out from under the covers. I pulled on the sheets until his tanned skin was exposed to the filtered sunlight, retreating into the bathroom before he could stop me.

“Not fair,” he called from the other room, his approaching footsteps causing the hairs on the backs of my arms to stand on end.

“Responsibilities, Thayre.” I faced the mirror and worked out the knots in my hair, tying it up in a ponytail once I was satisfied.

He came up behind me to hug his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder so he could kiss the side of my neck. “We don't have time for a shower?”

I frowned. “Between you hogging the hot water until it runs cold and holding me captive in there, we'd be late. My hair is fine, and I showered last night.”

“Aw.” He let his arms drop to his sides, then kissed me again. “After we get home?”

“Yes, after. Now, get a shower and get dressed. It's supposed to be pretty warm again today.”

I headed into the bedroom and made up the bed, all the while imagining every contour of Thayre's body and how the water probably glistened on his skin. I shuddered from the tempting imagery, but I wasn't lying when I said we'd never leave on time if I joined him. He loved his showers, and he loved holding me close under the rushing water even more.

Things I enjoyed on my worst days, but with Tabby depending on us, I figured getting there early was a lot better than arriving late and having to walk all the way from the parking garage.

* * * * *

A
fter leaving the car in a nearby empty lot, we met up with Tabby on the sidewalk. It just so happened we all had on our Transcendence t-shirt, and she was busy reading over her sheet music as we walked up behind her.

“Morning, Tabby,” I said, hugging Thayre's violin case to my chest.

“Morning,” she beamed, blowing a strand of hair from in front of her eyes as she situated her table and chairs. “What's with him?” She nodded in Thayre's direction.

“He didn't feel like being a morning person today.”

“Too bright,” he grumbled, joining us moments later with a viola he had sitting in his studio. “You'll have to excuse me if I hit a few bad notes. I haven't played this thing in months.”

Tabby shrugged. “I doubt that will happen, but if it does, the only ones who will know are Moyra and myself. Don't sweat it.”

“It's like
he's
the one with stage fright.” I hid a smile behind my hand when Thayre glared in my direction. “What?”

“I'll have you know I don't
play
in front of big audiences. I conduct.”

“Meh. Same thing.”

He scoffed, but whatever smartass remark came to mind, he kept it to himself.

We continued our friendly morning banter in-between setting up and getting a bite to eat from the local bakery. It wasn't much, but it would hold us off until lunch.

Still, playing for those who passed by wasn't what had my stomach rolling over itself. On the short drive over here, Thayre had promised to whisk me over to the Music Barn to pick up my very own violin—one of which I had yet to name.

If you don't name it, it isn't yours.

If I didn't name it, I could return it.

“You aren't going to mess up,”
Thayre's voice sung in my mind.

I still had my doubts, but they probably weren't necessary. Even in high school, playing a less expensive violin, I was always afraid I'd miss a handful of notes and, in turn, screw up the rest of our band. It never happened, and the few times one of the other players missed a beat, someone else ended up covering for them.

But you're the first violinist.

I had solos and intros to worry about—two times when it would be me playing while everyone else toned their music back.
No sweat. I can do this. I can do this.

We had a few weeks left until our date at Webster Hall, and every passing day seemed to make me doubt myself a little more.

I can do this.

“You guys ready?” Tabby asked, resting her cello against herself as she tested a few of the strings.

I licked my lips and forced a smile in her direction. “Won't know until we try.”

She grinned, and after looking over the sheet music she had clipped to the stand in front of us, she placed her bow on the strings of her cello. Thayre and I did the same, and after taking a handful of breaths, I set my bow on the A and E and started to play. Unlike our visit to the Music Barn, the song we played out on the curb wasn't nearly as loud, and while the wind may have carried it like a Siren's voice to nearby shoppers, it probably wouldn't compare to when we played at Webster.

Soon, Thayre and Tabby joined in, their melodies enhancing my own as my notes climbed higher and higher. By the time we reached the second chorus, we already had quite the crowd. Smiling faces, some of which I recognized from when I worked at Kimber's, watched us. A couple of kids turned around in circles. And those who couldn't stay to watch picked up a flyer and one of the many CDs Tabby had more than likely burned last evening.

Fortunately, Tabby had brought the rest of our sheet music, so after the third song, any nerves I may have had melted away. Folks crowded around us, and aside from those who took one of the flyers, the others stayed for two, three and sometimes four songs before pulling themselves away from our merry little square on the sidewalk.

“All right, folks. We're going to take a five-minute break, but we'll start up again soon,” Tabby said, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes.