Page 70 of Crescendo

I cried, blinked furiously to clear my eyes and hold her in my vision, and my mind filled with a whirlwind of memories: Lydia finding me staring at that clarinet on the first day, her hand on my thigh under a table, the way she held me when I sobbed, crossing the river with her, losing her, finding her again.

The piece ached for her and the clarinets soared— she soared.

Nobody else in the world could have made Across the River sound so perfect, so much like it belonged there, at the Royal Albert Hall.

Not one part of me had really comprehended how this moment would feel, what it was like to hear a real, full orchestra running through my piece.

It was so much richer and more beautiful than the version I’d put together in a DAW.

My insides felt simultaneously like they were buzzing and melting into goop.

As Lydia took the orchestra into the final movement, I realised she’d done it, our promise.

Our names together in music, forever. Whatever I managed in composing, the first performance of one of my pieces would always be Lydia’s major conducting debut, and that was going to last forever, just like she would, just like her music would.

Just like my love for her would.

The piece finished and rapturous applause filled the space.

Most of it was for her, of course, but some of it was for the piece.

They liked it. I’d composed something worthy of the Royal Albert Hall.

My fingers found the tiny pendant around my neck.

A disc with the letter C . Together, we’d made it here.

Our dads were sobbing with pride, my friends were cheering, grinning—crying, in Bansi’s case—and congratulating me.

This whole thing was so much better for having them all be part of it.

Lydia took her bows, smiling like her soul had been set on fire—the exact way she always deserved to look.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Perfect wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her.

She shook hands and shared a few, private words with Cynthia Altman before leaving the stage.

Papa leaned over, clapping a hand to my knee. “The piece was incredible !”

“So, so wonderful,” Dad agreed, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “You were made for this space.”

Papa grinned proudly. “Now, go get your girl.”

I glanced at the others, all of them beaming and nodding at me, squeezed Dad’s hand one more time, grabbed my phone, and threw myself from the hall.

I was pretty sure they preferred you not to leave or enter in the middle of a performance, but I managed to squeeze out of the room just before Cynthia got into position, so I hoped they’d forgive me.

Where are you? I hurriedly sent to Lydia.

I’d willingly run across the entire building to find her but I was pretty sure there were spaces The Lydia Howard Fox got to see that I didn’t—especially when she was one of their conductors.

A conductor at the Royal Albert Hall. She was phenomenal. Who made their proper debut here other than her?

Meet you by door one, she sent back and my heart leapt.

I couldn’t get there fast enough, barely registering the staff watching me race for the doors. It probably looked like I hated the show. At least it was only my own piece that had played so far.

I made it to the doors before her, pacing nervously, and my heart stopped when she finally appeared, laughing.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Ella Hendrickson?” she said, striding towards me with an impossible smile. “Impressing the whole of the Royal Albert Hall with that stunning piece. Look at you go.”

“You’re here,” I said, barely audible. “You conducted.”

“I did.” She grinned, stopping in front of me, a little closer than you would with a friend. “Couldn’t have someone else conducting your piece now, could I?”

I shook my head slowly. “How did you even…?”

“I’m Lydia Howard Fox. I ask and Adam makes it happen.”

That tracked. “But why would you…”

Her expression softened, looking at me besottedly. “Our names together in music.”

I nodded, crying again—though I wasn’t sure I’d ever really stopped.

She reached a hand up to wipe away some of my tears. “I couldn’t let someone else conduct your debut, Ms. Hendrickson.”

“How many people have the person they wrote the song for conducting it?” I asked with a laugh.

“Even I’m not arrogant enough to think it was just for me.”

“Ah, well. A little for Callum, a little for me, but… it wouldn’t have existed without you. The clarinets were all for you. You know that, right?”

The emotions she’d been hiding under her joyous smile flashed across her face—nerves, hope, fear, a whole tangle of things that matched what I’d been feeling for days now.

She nodded and stepped closer. I wanted to fall into her, to breathe her in, luxuriate in the moment of having her back in my arms. The cardigan she’d left me didn’t smell of her anymore. I’d worn it too many times. But she was there, in front of me. So very close.

“Lydia,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

She smiled, softly, sadly. We’d both been so stubborn, so sure we couldn’t make this work, and for what? All it had done was break both our hearts. And everyone had been right—the feelings didn’t go anywhere.

For four years, I’d done nothing but put my life into a tiny, tidy box.

The loss was still real, the fear of moving on, of losing everyone I cared about was still there, but this was living.

And Callum would be so proud. Fall in love, make it messy and real, and make it bigger than the whole world—but make it work, because it’s worth it.

I sucked in a shuddering breath. “You were perfect. You made the piece magical.”

She shook her head, her other hand coming up to cup my face, and I gave in, allowed myself to hold her, my hands gripping her hips. It felt like breathing.

“The piece is perfect. It deserved to be here, Ella. You deserve to be here, to be known and heard.” She laughed and gestured back towards the auditorium. “And every single person in there knows that. You just made a name for yourself and I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

“No, no. They were mostly clapping—correctly—for you.”

“Maybe before the piece they were, but you have no idea how gifted of a composer you are.” She held my gaze seriously and intently. “It was an honour and a privilege to conduct your piece.”

I wasn’t really sure what to do with that. I just wanted it to mean that we got to be together, just like we’d promised. “You’re a very talented conductor.”

“I know, right?” She laughed before shaking it off and looking more sincere. “The orchestra is wonderful, so is the team here. And I’m glad it was your piece.”

My insides were humming at a fever pitch, making me feel like I’d pass out, and I couldn’t resist any longer.

I slipped my arms around her back and pulled her into a hug.

The way she wrapped around me, breathing me in too, felt like something vital slipping into place in my being, and I sobbed unreservedly into her shoulder.

“You know,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears, “Cynthia suggested she might like to invite me back to work with the orchestra again…”

My breath stopped. I pulled back to look at her, so vulnerable, so expectant. She was finally asking.

I’d tried so hard not to push, not to act like she needed to give up her life for me, but maybe we’d both been coming to the exact same conclusion while being apart.

“Take it,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “Tell her yes.”

A fresh set of tears ran down her cheeks as she laughed. “She hasn’t actually asked yet.”

“Yes, she has. Basically, anyway.” My hands clutched harder at her clothing. “Say yes. Be here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

She laughed again. “Are you telling me you want to see me in London, darling?”

I sighed, my knees weak. “ Yes. And I know it’s not going to be easy, but I talked to Arundhati. We’re trying to work something out. I could be a doctor for half the year and… a composer, I guess, the other half.”

“Ella,” she gasped. “What?”

“I know. I know. It’s… messy and ridiculous, and there are so many logistics to work out, but… I want to try. With you.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Hell, here I was thinking I was the one surprising you.”

“Oh, you did.”

“Good.” She grinned. “But, wow, you sure know how to stun a woman.”

“LA is far, and we both have big, busy lives, but… I don’t know, that life is so much better with you in it. I need you in it. So, please, figure it out with me?”

She stared at me for one, wild, long moment, and, then, her lips were on mine, pulling me in, taking me home, making me feel impossibly alive again.

I’d missed her so much. Nothing felt right without her, and everything made sense with her. Even if none of the last few months felt like they should have made sense.

We broke the kiss but she held my face between her hands, our foreheads pressed together.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I was supposed to be coming here with the grand romantic gesture, asking you to make it work.”

“I think you coming out as the surprise conductor for my piece is the grandest romantic gesture.”

“Mm. No. It’s definitely you rearranging your life for us, for your music.” She pulled back, staring at me like she was mesmerised. “You’re going to set the musical world on fire. I’m going to be out of a job.”

“Let’s not be ridiculous right now.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling. You really did it.”

I bit my lip, too overcome to say anything at all.

“We’re really going to figure this whole thing out,” she said.

“We are.”

She was overjoyed, dazzling. I couldn’t get enough of her. And I knew I never would.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to Cynthia,” she said, laughing. “She loved your piece.”

“Ha. Just like everyone else ever, I’m sure she just likes you.”

“Nah. She knows a great composer when she sees one. It was all about the piece. Oh! And the clarinetists. I told them the whole piece rested on them.”

“Oh, my god, Lydia.”

“What? They loved it.”

“They loved Lydia Howard Fox talking to them.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

My eyes ran over her face, drinking in every inch of her. This woman who had changed my whole life. Simply incandescent. “No, I do. It’s my favourite thing ever.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Just talking is your favourite thing?”

“Lydia! Jesus. Not here.”

She laughed and pulled me into another kiss, deep and needy and filled with promises.

I couldn’t wait to spend forever kissing her, composing with her, laughing with her. What a life to live.

When we pulled apart again, she brushed my hair back, looking at me with absolute adoration. “Hey, darling?”

“Mm, yes?” I melted into her.

“I love you.”

I felt like I knew exactly what this moment sounded like in music. Maybe I knew what my next piece would be. Another song for her, something happier this time.

I pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I love you too. So, so much.”

She looked the same way she had on the stage, like her soul had been set on fire. It was a great look on her.

“Do you suppose we should get back inside?” I asked, laughing blissfully. “I think there are some people in there who are very excited to see you. Two of whom seemed to expect you.”

“Didn’t everyone expect me?”

I rolled my eyes fondly. “You know what I mean.”

She laughed, keeping her arms wrapped around me as we started moving back towards the auditorium doors. “Hey, I need your dads to like me, and I had to tell someone what was going on.”

“I cannot believe you all kept that secret from me.”

“Only because we love you and want good things for you.”

I hummed, leaning into her as we walked, my arms tight around her. “I think you’re the greatest thing.”

“Sorry,” a member of staff said as we reached the door, “you’re going to have to wait for a break in the performance.”

“No problem,” I said happily. I wasn’t against standing in Lydia’s arms for however long it took.

Their eyes bugged as they seemed to realise who was standing in front of them. “Oh! Er, Ms. Howard Fox. I, um, do you want… I mean, ordinarily… but…”

I almost laughed. They really would let Lydia do whatever the hell she wanted here.

She waved them off quickly. “No, no. We’re happy to wait here for as long as it takes.”

“Oh. Okay,” they replied before politely and awkwardly turning away as Lydia scooped me up into another perfect kiss.

I had the feeling the piece being played wasn’t going to feel long enough and we’d be swept back inside before I’d had nearly enough of kissing her. But, hey, we had plenty of time to kiss and soar together now, and that was all that really mattered. Lydia Howard Fox and Ella Hendrickson. Together.