I’d wanted space this summer. I’d found other things—but I hadn’t found that. And if it was only for a couple weeks . . . ? I could survive it, the distance.

An ache tore through me at the prospect of missing Oscar. And that scared me more than anything. Could I be on my own? On top of everything else, was I now incapable of even that?

A whisper shuddered out of me. “Is this an offer or a demand?”

Dad stayed silent, and that was his answer.

I stayed silent too. And that was mine.

“I’ll book it,” Dad finally said. “They’ll be glad to spend some time with you.”

He stood slowly, hunching to fit through the open doorway. “You’re a good one, Ruby.”

A good what?

I bludgeoned myself with the question as he plodded downstairs.

But soon I would be somewhere that rendered it moot. No instruments. No debuts. No busy busy, no self-importance, real or false, no champagne teas, no photographers, no casual lies, no manipulation, no confusion.

No music. No Oscar. My breath left me again at the thought of it. It hurt. Too much.

I dragged a roller bag out of the pile in Win’s bedroom.

•   •   •

“Two weeks?” Oscar paced the sidewalk, pulling his collar. “That’s . . . you’ll be getting back right before the concert.”

“They haven’t seen me for years, so I owe them a long visit. And honestly, Oscar, this will be good for you. A chance to focus and get the rest of it finished. I’m distracting you from writing—”

“You’re not distracting me from writing the symphony, Ruby, you are the symphony.”

He stopped pacing and stood staring at me from five feet away. A clutch of commuters passed, swerving in both directions.

I felt like I was being crushed by the air between us. I took a step forward and it got worse.

“The third movement could be about us missing each other.”

“The capitulation should be hopeful,” he said. “Not . . .”

His eyes had drifted. He was considering it.

“I have to be honest, Oscar, I need to get away.”

He gave a surprised blink before his expression closed off.

“Not from you!” I reached for him. “From the city, my usual life. I’d thought I could figure some stuff out this summer from home, but it hasn’t happened, so maybe I’ll get some perspective while I’m there. I’m trying really hard not to say ‘find myself’ because oh my God would that ever go on the list of things white people say.”

Oscar smiled back absently. “Yeah, that’s . . . that’ll be good. You should do this, it’s important. It’s pretty sudden, but—yeah, it’s all good.”