I froze, watching. She touched his arm to whisper in his ear. He threw his head back to laugh, exposing the elegant length of his neck like he was inviting her to kiss it. She curved her body into that telltale S shape that meant “I’m into you.” And then he leaned forward . . . and whispered back.

See, this—this made sense! So much more sense than me and Oscar, whatever we were. They could have such a future together. Midnight music sessions, a joint concert tour, a dozen brilliant prodigy children, who was I to stand in the way? And I’d find someone else. A Joey. Joey was great! Nice, friendly, above-average at math, an easy keel through a normal life . . . it was lovely, inevitable. I would get used to the feeling of my heart hemorrhaging with every beat. Totally fine.

I slid from the aisle the exact moment Oscar turned.

He saw me. And he did not smile. He looked stricken.

He had something to hide. He cared enough to want it hidden.

I started away, but Oscar raced up the aisle, hand outstretched to intercept me.

“You heard.”

“I did.” My voice shook even on those two little words.

“It’s not anywhere close to ready, but they want me to start working it with the orchestra so that I can move on to the second movement . . .”

I had to sit against the stiff back of a velvet seat, I was so thrown. Was he not hooking up with that girl?

“If I’d known you’d be listening, I don’t think I could have gone through with it.”

“The rehearsal? I . . . why?”

He took my hand and ran his rough thumb over it. “Because I want you to think I’m brilliant.”

“You are brilliant.” That’s the problem. That’s the whole stupid problem. “This . . . symphony is . . . it’s true, you know? It has breath in it. A soul. I . . .”

My eyes welled up. I was such a lunatic.

Oscar’s eyes were glistening too. “You like it?”

I could only nod—overcome with relief, with wild affection, with recognition of how much I’d missed this.

“It wasn’t—?” he started.

“It was incredible, Oscar.” I finally let myself smile. “It’s going to be—”

He stopped me with a kiss so fervent, the ground, the chandeliers, the entire hall disappeared around us until all of existence consisted of our two bodies, floating in space. When he pulled away, smoothing my hair, Lilly Hall crept back in, detail by detail, blurry with unreality.

I glanced back at the orchestra and saw the violinist’s head darting quickly away, like she’d been watching. She did have a crush. I no longer blamed her.

“Do you need to get back?” I nodded to the stage.

“No, I’m done. They’re rehearsing Ralph Vaughan Williams next. He couldn’t make it out tonight to conduct.”

“Being dead and all?”