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Chapter Three

"Absolutely, you must do it!" Abigail demands exuberantly, causing me to pull the phone from my ear with a grimace. Already in a taxi on my way to the theatre, I nod to myself, having already known what she would say. "What do you think he wants?"

"I've been trying to figure that out all day... All I can think of is that he's going to try and worm his way out of the mess he created."

"Hey, we created it too. Don't give him all the credit."

I roll my eyes, sighing. "I'll see you a week from now."

"A week?"

"Thanksgiving? Remember?" I chuckle. "A time where you celebrate being with family and friends?"

"I know what Thanksgiving is, smart ass... Why do you need a week to celebrate it?"

"I told you this a month ago, Abigail. Were you not listening to me?"

"Probably not," she admits. "But don't take offense. I do that occasionally with everyone. My husband hates it."

"Gee, I wonder why... I'm flying to Georgia to see my parents."

"That does ring a bell, I guess... Well, keep your phone on you, at least."

"Will do." I wait for her end to hang up first before placing my phone into my clutch on my lap. My fingers smooth against the black satin silk I changed into before I left work. I, of course, hid from my sister, knowing I'd be cornered into questioning. The dress is ankle-length so not skimpy. He won't think I'm expecting anything.

Which I'm not... I think?

I roll my eyes and place my head into my hands. What am I doing? What possible good can come from going to see him perform? I can barely control myself when he's just talking... conducting an orchestra is something else entirely.

There is nothing I've ever experienced quite like it.

There's a vibration on my lap and quickly as we near the theatre, I pull out my phone, opening up the text waiting from Danny.

Sorry, babe. Not going to make Thanksgiving. Got a gig. Tell the fam I say hello.

A gig? For a whole week? Alright. I don't bother writing back now, stuffing the phone back into my purse as the car nears a halt. People are filing into the theatre by the dozens.

Breathe... Just breathe.

                                            * * * *

"Excuse me?" I sputter, struck with awe. The attendant glances back down at my ticket and smiles, nodding.

"You are in box one."

"Um..." I glance around awkwardly. "Okay."

"You're just down the hall. Enjoy the performance." She hands me back the ticket, smiling wide. Blinking, I turn and walk ahead, looking down at the small rectangular paper in my hand.

This guy. I shake my head, smiling suddenly.

Alright... I'll bite.

                                           * * * *

Matteo steps out into the light, just like the night before and the spotlight dazzles against his hair, deep like espresso. I suck in a breath, unprepared to be here once again- so soon.

The audience roars, on their feet as he walks calmly to the platform. His head, bent towards the ground, suddenly rises and my clapping begins to cease. His eyes, his dangerous hazel pupils, pierce mine momentarily before they dart away back towards the darkness of the audience.