“I can’t play.”
Naz blinked at the woman standing just beyond the front door of his apartment. “Roz?”
It wasn’t that he was unhappy to see her there. Quite the fucking opposite, really. He missed her like nothing else. But he’d been so damn busy with handling his business, and the extra work put on his shoulders by his father for his fuckups that other than a call or text, he didn’t get to see her much at all. An hour over the week to sit on her parents’ porch, and watch the fucking sky, but that was nothing. Nothing that he wanted to do, anyhow.
Roz looked him up and down like she was just seeing him standing there in nothing but boxer-briefs, and not as though she had been standing in his doorway for a whole minute staring at him. “Did you just get out of the shower?”
Naz dragged his fingertips through his wet hair to slick it back out of his eyes. “Yeah—came running when I heard the door. Shit’s crazy, babe, so it could have been anybody with something for me to do.”
Because that was his fucking life now.
Not that he wanted Roz to know it.
He really didn’t want this girl thinking that just because he was too wrapped up in her to take care of other business that it was automatically her fault. It wasn’t. None of it was her problem. This was all on him, and he needed to handle it one way or the other. Like his father said … find a balance.
“I called you earlier,” Roz added. “You didn’t pick up.”
Naz let out a slow breath. “I just got home, and went straight to the shower. My phone has been going off nonstop, and it might have gotten lost in the other shit. Sorry.”
She frowned. “Oh.”
“Hey, don’t do that.”
“No, you’re … busy. Like you said. I don’t want to bother—”
“Roz.”
Her head snapped up, and those beautiful, big blue eyes of her latched onto his gaze, and held strong. He refused to let her gaze drop, too, as he stepped forward with arms already open. She let him take her into his embrace, and he dropped a quick kiss to her forehead. Nothing felt better to him than having this woman in his arms, and it was strange as hell to him how that worked.
His whole life was one giant ball of stress right now. He couldn’t fucking escape it if he tried. Not even a quarter of a bottle of whiskey before bed would do the trick, because fucking right, he’d even tried that.
But just having Roz there, and his arms around her … shit was good again. His chaotic mind stopped the continuous chatter, and went silent. She was there, and that was all that mattered to him. It was no wonder that he had been so willing to just let shit slide in other points of his life when this wonder was what awaited him.
“You’re not a bother,” he promised. “And I was going to call you once I jumped out of the shower, anyway. I might have had a whole evening to myself if nobody calls, so I thought maybe you’d want me to spend it with you, huh?”
Roz nibbled on her bottom lip, and peered up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
But his evening wasn’t really a guarantee, either. All it would take was a call from a Capo, or his father, or even Zeke … and shit, there he would be, sent running somewhere again. It never ended, it seemed.
He also didn’t have anyone to blame for that but himself, too. Naz was quite aware of that, so he didn’t bother to complain. It wouldn’t do him any good. He was going to handle his business like he should have done in the first place.
Naz didn’t care about any of that right now though because he was a little concerned with the anxiety he found staring back at him from Roz. He wondered if that anxiousness had anything to do with her greeting—that wasn’t really a greeting—when he’d first answered the door for her.
I can’t play. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She kept quiet, but Naz didn’t need her words to confirm what he felt. In his heart, he just knew something was off.
“Everything,” she finally whispered.
“Not us,” he returned easily.
Roz smiled a bit. “No, and yes.”
Naz didn’t like that at all. “Come in, and give me a sec, yeah? Just gotta make a call.”
She nodded, and he stepped aside to allow her into his apartment. Dropping another quick kiss to her forehead, Naz left Roz to take off her coat and shoes as he headed further into the apartment. He found his phone where he’d left it charging on the bedside table. A quick press of his finger against the screen, and the phone dialed a familiar number.
His father picked up on the second ring.
“Naz, what can I do for you?”
“Give me the night,” Naz replied. “Call off any Capo that might need me, or send me running. I just … need one night.”
“Can’t do that, son. Sorry.”
Naz let out a hard breath. “Listen, I wouldn’t ask, but—”
“No, you know the rules, Nazio. Handle your business.” Cross cursed under his breath, and then muttered, “Give me a minute—Zeke’s calling.”
He tried really fucking hard not to glare at the wall while the phone went silent, but it was difficult. He didn’t ask his father for very much, but especially not when it came to the mafia. He knew he had to do this thing—get his button—on his own because if his father handed it to him, no one was ever going to respect him for that. But this wasn’t the same thing, and he really just needed Cross to shut up and listen to him for once.
Okay, that was a little unfair. His father did listen to him, but Naz was aware Cross also had to act as his boss, and not just his dad, too. That couldn’t be easy.
Naz told himself to remember that fact when his father came back on the line with a heavy sigh that echoed.
“Is Rosalynn with you tonight?” his father asked before he could say anything. “You know that was Zeke, and he was curious if I’d heard from you tonight because Roz took off. Apparently, her mentor came into town.”
Naz blinked. “Doesn’t he live in England where she goes to that school?”
“He does.”
“Why would he come all the way—”
“Is she there?”
“She is. Just showed up. That’s why I called. Something’s … not right,” he added quieter just in case Roz was somewhere near his bedroom and listening to his call. “With her, I mean. She seems off.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s having a moment that’s not my business to explain. Ask, son. And since Zeke thinks a night away might do her some good, but especially some time with you … you get your one night. Expect a call at five in the morning. Understood? Business as usual as of five, Nazio.”
He blinked again. Like a fucking idiot.
“What’s going on?”
“Ask her. I hear she has a big audition coming up.”
His father hung up the phone without letting Naz ask another question. He was left staring at his phone with more questions than he had answers, but he figured the girl wandering around in his apartment might be able to provide him with the information he needed.
Except … Roz wasn’t wandering his apartment. He found her sitting at the piano that his grandfather had passed onto him. Her fingers slid over the keys as though to ghost overtop them, but never actually pressing down to make music.
She didn’t need him to make a sound to know he was in the room. She started speaking without a word from him.
“I can’t seem to play,” she whispered. “I sit at my piano, and I stare at the ivory. I hear these notes in my head, and I see them flying past like I always do. That’s how I compose, but then I sit down to play … and nothing comes out.”
Naz fought the urge to frown as he came to lean against the piano. “Why?”
“At first, I wanted to blame you. I thought because I was so distracted with you that my desire to make music was just … gone for a bit. But that was an excuse, and not a reason.”
Naz leaned over to let his fingers drift over the keys. He played a simple tune that only took three of his fingers, and a couple of keys. Nothing too serious. He wasn’t very fucking good at this anyway.
“So, what’s the reason, Roz?”
She glanced up at him, wild-eyed and scared. He thought she looked scared. He didn’t like that at all. “I have a deadline coming up. The piece had to be original. Amazing. It’s a once in a lifetime shot, and the longer I took to feel right about this piece, the worse I felt about it. The more I changed. It wasn’t good enough, and because it came from me—”
“You weren’t good enough,” he murmured. Roz shrugged, but stayed quiet. “Roz, you have to know—”
“I’m my own worst critic, and you can tell me I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard, but that’s not going to change what goes on inside my head. It doesn’t change what I tell myself.”
Naz straightened to his full height, hearing what she said and understanding that better than she knew. Maybe it was because he’d watched his mother go through her own battles throughout his life with things like anxiety and depression. But he got it even if she thought he didn’t.
“So, then we start by rewiring,” he said, coming to sit beside her on the bench. “For every negative thing we hear inside our minds, we tell ourselves five positive things. You hear, I’m so terrible. And so you say, No one else sounds like I do; no one else creates what I do; I am talented; I am worthy; and I can do this. That’s what you do. We can start now.”
Roz glanced over at him, and laughed. “Naz—”
“I can do it for you, if you want. You tell me the bad things, I repeat the good things.”
She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
Not at all. “I’ll do it but on one condition.”
Roz grinned. “What’s that?”
“For every time we have to do this—you say something bad, and I return something good—then you have to play that piece you composed for the audition in Australia.” At her curious glance his way, he shrugged. “Your brother mentioned it to me a while back, but when you didn’t say anything about it, I figured you didn’t want to talk about it. I take it that’s the once in a lifetime thing, right?”
Roz sighed. “I’m going to fuck up so bad.”
“You’re going to nail it. You’re going to have the whole fucking crowd on their feet. You’re going to be beautiful. You will be amazing. You are amazing, Roz.”
It took her a second, and then two.
He’d done what he said. She said something bad. He came back with five good things.
“I can do this all night,” he murmured, “but you know the deal. Your turn, baby.”
Her hands found the keys again, and music came out. Hesitant, he thought. He heard the missteps she made, but he thought that might have just been nerves because he was sitting so close to her, and didn’t she usually do this sort of thing on her own?
“That was horrible,” Roz mumbled when she finished.
“Better than what I can do,” he countered. “And it came out of your head, no one else’s. You did that. You created something. That talent is yours. You own this, Roz.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. Play. That’s the deal.”
Roz’s fingers hit the keys again, but this time, she looked at him while she played. “I love you, Naz.”
Naz grinned. “Good fucking thing, huh?”
“Can I do this?”