Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Sweetheart, I appreciate your concern, but I can plan my days just fine.”
She tucks her chin like she did when she was young.
“You’re too old to pout.”
“I’m not pouting,” she says in a pouty tone before sighing. “Where is she?”
“She?”
“The woman you met in Boone?”
He shrugs. A lie. Jackson knows she took a position at a university in New York. He knows she bought an older three-bedroom home. He knows she joined a yoga and Pilates studio. And he’s pretty sure she has his piano.
“You haven’t thought about looking her up?”
“Why would I do that? She probably lives on the other side of the country. And I live in Boise with my family.”
“Well,” Livy stands and wraps her hand around his wrist while kissing his cheek, “Slade and I will be here raising our family, doing everything you’ve already done, so feel free to come and go as you please. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Where do I have to go?” He eyes her over the rim of his coffee mug.
She shrugs, heading into his house. “I’m sure a smart guy like you is only a quick internet search away from that answer.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
FRANCESCA
Back to the basics.
Today, I’ve chosen a lecture on advanced aural skills. It’s a ninety-minute lecture, and I call for class participation to keep everyone focused. Since I offered extra credit for attendance, the auditorium is packed for the first time this semester.
“In conclusion, honing your skills for critical listening, notating four-part chromatic harmony and melodies, as well as advanced rhythm, meter, and instrumentation, will be invaluable assets for many of you in your future careers. Thank you for attending today’s lecture. Can we get a round of applause for the willing and not-so-willing volunteers?” I smile and clap.
Laughter follows with a big applause before chatter erupts while the students gather their belongings to exit the auditorium.
As I collect my things, sliding them into my messenger bag, several students line up to ask questions. While addressing the last student, my gaze flits to the lone person sitting in the lecture hall.
“Thank you, Professor Holter. Great lecture,” the young woman says, slinging her bag over her shoulder before climbing the stairs to the exit.
“Thanks.” The delayed sentiment falls from my parted lips, eyes unblinking, after she’s ten steps away from me.
When the door clicks shut behind her, I search for my voice, but it’s nowhere to be found.
“You’re a sight to behold,” he says.
I laugh, but it sounds like a sob as I blink back tears. If I can hold it together, today will be the perfect day. Maybe the best day of my whole life. “You stole my line.”
“Professor Holter, I could listen to you all day. Extraordinary as always.”
It’s a nearly impossible feat to keep from crying. He’s alive.
And he’s here.
“Thought you were dead.” I set my mic and battery pack on the table with shaky hands.
“Me too.”
I climb up the middle aisle of stairs and slide into his row, legs getting shakier with each step. Jack doesn’t move. He waits patiently in his chair like a good student.
“I’m glad you’re not.” I sit beside him, hugging my bag and staring at the lectern.
“Me too,” he whispers.
“What brings you to New York?”
“Fall foliage.”
I grin without taking my eyes off the lectern. When I focus on it, my emotions stay in check. “It’s stunning,” I murmur.
“Stunning indeed.”
A silence seeps between us for a long moment.
“Dark hair,” he says.
I touch my hair. “It’s my natural color. I decided blondes don’t have more fun.” I cringe. “Sorry. I know your wife had blond hair, as does your daughter and grandson. I just meant it wasn’t for me.”
“I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time. And … I’m speechless,” he says.
That thing in my chest that’s supposed to keep me alive feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. My watch vibrates with an alert. “I have meetings the rest of the afternoon. Are you, by chance, staying around for a day or two?” I stand, sliding the crossbody strap over my head.
“By chance, I believe I will be here for a day or two.” He rests his hands on the arms of the chair and stands. Just his proximity could burn me to the ground, not to mention his grin.
These arms of mine want to wrap around him, but I won’t be able to let go. And I do have meetings.
“Where are you staying?”
“Cheap motel.”
My lips roll together to hide my grin as I nod. “Sounds like you. If you’d like a step up from a cheap motel, I’d be happy to offer you a room at my house.”
“Is that so?” He slides his hands into his pockets. He’s not in black. I’m not sure I’ve seen him wearing blue jeans. I definitely haven’t seen him in a white undershirt and a blue checkered button-down. White sneakers. A little gray in his five o’clock shadow. He looks like life.