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stupid attempt at a
long-distance relationship, and then a breakup. I know. As I’ve since
discovered, I suck at long-distance relationships and that’s why I’m divorced.
So I didn’t say that was a regret because it wasn’t, not exactly.” Aidan sighed
and pulled her back against his chest, securing his arms around her waist. “I’m
sorry we didn’t keep in touch, but I’m glad we didn’t try it, only to fail. I’m
glad that when I learned that lesson, it wasn’t at your expense.”
    Lily thought about that for a moment, putting the brush back
down on the dresser and folding her hands over Aidan’s arms. “I’m glad too, but
I guess that makes me a little sorry for your ex-wife since you did learn it at her expense.”
    “My own expense too. I didn’t want to tell you this,”
he pointed out, “because I knew it would come out all wrong.”
    “I really liked you too.”
    “I didn’t just mean the sex,” he added.
    “Neither did I. But nothing’s changed, Aidan. We still live
on opposite coasts. We can’t even date. Which puts us right back where we were
seven years ago, when we agreed it could only be a one-time deal.”
    Aidan stepped away and Lily’s heart started to break, but he
was only pulling her toward the bed. “We were both wrong about that, weren’t
we?” he mused. “It wasn’t a one-time deal, because here we are. Who knows what
else we were wrong about? We’re both too tired to think rationally about any of
this right now though. Let’s sleep on it.”
    She let him undress her for the second time that night, then
they crawled into bed and fell asleep holding each other, finding comfort where
they could in the face of an uncertain future.

Chapter Four
     
    Aidan took Lily’s advice, much to her surprise. He started
the next day’s rehearsal with a sincere apology to the orchestra, his honest
assessment of the problem, and an admission that he probably felt too much
entitlement about the source material.
    This speech disarmed the musicians and charmed the dancers,
setting most of them to angling for his attention. Lily had to dash the hopes
of several girls and at least one boy, all the while restraining her impulse to
hiss at them all and cry, “No! Mine!”
    Not mine , she insisted to herself, averting her eyes
from the high, tight butt she’d wrapped her hands around so enthusiastically
the night before. Aidan was a very athletic conductor, a joy to watch,
especially in jeans that showed off some of his finest assets to perfection.
    Not mine , Lily’s conscience sang, when she saw Aidan
grin at the first violinist and she wanted to tear the poor woman’s hair out.
    Not mine, not mine, not mine . Even if he kept
catching her eye throughout the rehearsal and doing insanely arousing things
like smiling at her, or biting his lower lip, or raising his eyebrows as if
they were sharing a naughty secret. Even at lunchtime, when she saw him talking
with David and then he scanned the theater to find her, calling out, “Lily,
where do you want to go for lunch?”
    Right in front of David, right in front of everyone. Lily’s
heart soared.
    During lunch, Aidan checked his email on his phone and,
shortly thereafter, Lily’s heart crash-landed into her steak au poivre .
    “Anything serious?” David asked at Aidan’s grim expression
when he put the phone down.
    Aidan glanced briefly at Lily then away, almost guiltily.
“Just a scheduling change. My symphony’s director needs to book our next
recording session a little sooner than planned because one of the principals,
who’s pregnant, is apparently expecting twins and having some complications. He
wants to shoot for a date two weeks from now if I can get back to New York in
time to rehearse for it.”
    Lily’s mouth was too dry to respond, but David jumped right
in. “This works out perfectly. That’s what I wanted to tell you, I found a
long-term replacement. We still need to hammer out the contract, but I’m hoping
to