Rock Wedding(2)

Her voice echoed in the silvered darkness.

Wondering if he’d left the house, gone drinking on the town or out with one of his bandmates, she padded back into the house. She flushed when she realized she’d tracked a little dust inside, quickly went back outside and brushed off her feet on the mat by the door. Sometimes she thought she’d never figure out how to be refined and ladylike and look as if she belonged in Abe’s world.

Not the glittering, hard-edged world of a rock star. That, she could fake.

No, it was the world of the Bellamy family that left her feeling lost. The world of Ivy League educations and old money and people who used words she’d only ever read in the novels that had been her friends throughout life. At least, because she read so much, she understood the words even if she couldn’t pronounce them. That was good.

Once, when she’d dared mention to Abe how out of her depth she felt, he’d given a bemused shake of his head. “You’re perfect, Sarah. Smart and beautiful.” An arm around her neck, tugging her to the muscled warmth of him. “I don’t have a snooty degree either, remember? Stop worrying.”

That had made her feel better. But still, she couldn’t do as he’d said, couldn’t stop worrying. Because while Abe had forgone a degree to pursue a career in rock music, he was an accomplished classical pianist, had been playing since he was a child. And unlike her, he could go to an Ivy League university if he wanted to. His mother, Diane, was proud of his stellar school record, had told Sarah of it.

Of all the people in Abe’s world, it was Diane Bellamy whom Sarah most admired. Abe’s mother never had to raise her voice to get attention; she did it by dint of her presence and her quiet grace. Sarah wanted so much to be like her, to have that elegant confidence and certainty about her place in the world.

After using a tissue she had in her pocket to brush away the dust she’d tracked onto the gleaming wooden floors, she scrunched up the tissue and put it back in the pocket meant for a phone and ID when going clubbing. There wasn’t much else to this strapless sequined dress—she’d worn it tonight because it made her feel pretty, but mostly because the last time she’d worn it, Abe had hauled her close and kissed her stupid.

“Abe?” she said again, her hopeful tone starting to tremble.

A knot grew in her throat.

He’d left her alone again, gone off to deal with his demons on his own—or in the company of the people he did love. Fox, Noah, and David, his bandmates and best friends.

Sarah knew she should be grateful, and she was. Anything that helped Abe, Sarah would accept. She just… She just wished he wouldn’t shut her out. His reserve was like a stone wall she couldn’t penetrate no matter how hard she tried.

Despite all the good times in their marriage, all the times they’d laughed together, all the nights they’d spent tangled in one another, the closest they’d ever been was on the night they’d first met.

He’d been alone that night and so raw in his pain that she’d wanted only to comfort him. She’d held him, then later given him her body. She hadn’t known it was the anniversary of Tessie’s death then, but she’d known he needed her and she’d wanted only to give to this man who made her soul come alive. Even the knowledge that he was out of her league hadn’t stopped her, Sarah the moth to Abe’s flame.

There you are, a hidden part of her had whispered the first time he spoke to her. I’ve been waiting so long for you.

But last year on this date, he’d spent the night away from her. The four members of Schoolboy Choir had recorded all night, gotten Abe through the anniversary while Sarah walked alone in the house.

She’d never known it was possible to be lonely in a marriage until she’d married Abe, married the man she loved beyond life.

Eyes burning, she touched careful fingers to the piano, not wanting to leave fingerprints on the glossy finish but unable to resist its beauty. It was such a lovely instrument, but she’d never heard its song. Abe had never, not once, played it in the time since she moved into his home.

It seemed wrong to her that the instrument had been silenced.

Taking a seat on the piano stool, she looked at the pristine black and white of the keys. She hadn’t had the chance to learn music as a child, but she’d made a real effort at learning the piano since marrying Abe so that she could talk to him about his passion. Her teacher had declared that she was “pedestrian but stubborn.”

That was fine with Sarah—she had no dreams of being a great musician.

Her passion was Abe; music was just a way to get closer to him.