I can’t believe I’ve never listened to this type of music on my own, I thought. It’s so powerful.

And Carter was missing it all. He had disappeared to the restroom halfway through the quartet’s set and missed the rest of it. I’d applauded along with the rest of the audience when the musicians cleared the stage, but half my mind was on the empty seat beside me.

It was strange that Carter was into this music. Guitars are the antithesis of classical music. There was nothing more modern than the twang of an acoustic guitar or the buzz of an electric.

The box clung to the wall of the big, open space, and sitting there looking over the rows of seats below felt empowering. I had personal space around me and didn’t have to worry about squeezing along a packed row of people if I needed to get out for the bathroom or a breath of air. Even as I watched, attendees who had left during the intermission filed back to their seats.

I hope Carter is all right. He’s been gone for a while. Maybe I should get an usher to check in the bathroom to make sure he’s okay.

Before I could put thought to action, the lights dimmed once more, and the announcer came over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the next performer, Carter Atkinson.”

“Did he just say…” I trailed off and looked toward the stage as applause filled the room.

“After months playing for audiences in every major city in Europe, Carter returns to his native New York. As a famed solo violinist, he not only plays the most intricate older works, but he also composes his own original pieces. Carter will become the newest resident artist with the New York Philharmonic, and he would like to address the audience on this, his opening night.”

Carter walked onto the stage, holding a polished violin. He was looking straight at me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face.

My mind should have been racing, drowning in thought, but I couldn’t do anything other than stare at him, shocked beyond comprehension.

A microphone stood at the side of the stage, and he picked it up.

“Good evening, New York,” he said in his low, measured voice. “Thank you so much for the warm welcome. I am pleased to work with the New York Philharmonic, and I look forward to sharing my music with you over the months to come.”

A polite round of applause greeted his words.

“I would like to dedicate my first performance to an amazing woman who is here tonight. It is an original piece I composed five years ago during a dark time in my life that speaks of love vanquished. Madison, you are a special woman who has helped to show me that all is not lost and there is always hope.”

Carter calmly walked to the music stand as if he hadn’t just said something of enormous import.

The sluggishness that had overtaken my mind faded, replaced with a thousand warring thoughts. How Carter had tricked me all this time into thinking he was a guitar player for a band. How this was so much better. How touching his dedication was, even if it went too far.

His words betrayed his feelings toward me, and I couldn’t believe they were anything other than a dangerous sign of a burgeoning love. That was what the three date rule was supposed to prevent.

My gut reaction betrayed my own emotions. Rapid blinking cleared away tears before they formed, but I couldn’t hide the pounding of my heart from myself.

“Damn it, Carter,” I said under my breath.

“Excuse me,” said the woman next to me. “He’s your date, isn’t he? You’re Madison?”

I wasn’t in any condition to make small talk at the moment.

“I am, yes.”

She smiled and patted my arm. “You’re a lucky woman. There are few men who know how to properly appreciate their ladies, and you should keep hold of the ones who do.”

The woman took her husband’s hand as Carter settled in his seat and raised his instrument.

He set the bow to the strings of his violin, and the music poured forth. It started slow and sweet, a playful melody that teased forth an impression of lighthearted summer fun.

Carter’s fingers were a blur where he held the violin, and the bow arced in graceful movements, at times slow and others dancing so fast that it was difficult to keep track. Through it all, his eyes remained closed and his face carried a pleasant smile.

It could have been the soundtrack to our first date. A light stroll through a park, playing with a puppy, and chatting about superficial things. I could listen to this music in the depths of winter and feel the sun on my face.

Then it changed. It grew more intense. Not all at once, but in a trill here, a note there. From flirting and light, the music grew to be the most provocative and intense I’d ever heard. Shocked by the sheer density of the sound, I had to double-check whether Carter was on the stage alone. His face had changed with the music, become suffused with the fiery passion I knew pulsed through his core.

The notes encircled me, made my blood pound. It held me and promised me the world. It was magnificent and grand, like a soaring cathedral. It was the type of music I wanted playing when Carter made love to me.

A discordant shriek cut through the grandiose melody just as it was building to a crescendo. A gasp rose from the audience as though from one voice.

Did Carter just break a string?

But no, he continued to play, the notes so despondent they melted off the violin.

This part of the song evoked a different feeling. Like a widow standing on a ragged cliff overlooking the stormy sea, peering through the hazardous mists and knowing that her beloved was never coming home. It was a heartbreak that had been transformed into music and sounded just as devastating. It was haunting.

Carter’s eyes were still closed, and his expression once more reflected the music. The pain was apparent even from this distance. It was the type of agony I knew too well, and it reminded me of the deep sorrow I’d seen hints of but Carter wouldn’t talk about.

I kept waiting for the music to perk up again, to show a hint of the hope that had been so integral to the beginning, but the piece ended on a long, sorrowful note.

There was a long, silent pause before the hall erupted with applause.

I stood and clapped with the rest of them, no longer trying to halt the tears that trailed down my cheeks.

Carter stood and bowed, acknowledging the crowd, then he sat and set the bow to his violin once more. The first notes sang out as the final claps faded.

This piece wasn’t as emotionally evocative, but it was technically brilliant. Carter’s violin played notes I didn’t know were possible, and so rapidly that it was difficult to keep track of it all. It was beautiful in an entire different fashion from his previous performance.

As entrancing as it was to watch Carter play, it was fascinating to look around and see how the others in the audience reacted to his music. The older couple beside me held hands as they looked on, and the fingers of the man’s other hand tapped to the underlying rhythm of the music. They looked at each other and shared a smile that carried decades of love.

He didn’t just make me feel good. There was an entire hall full of people who came to hear him play. I’d been hounding him to bring me to one of his shows, and it affected me more than I expected. In my mind, I’d pictured an intimate show in a dive bar by a cover band playing classic rock. This was so much bigger and fancier, and yet somehow, it felt even more intimate despite sharing him with so many total strangers.

It was in that moment, watching Carter pour his soul out through his violin, that I realized I was falling in love with him. The sensation was foreign, and it took a second to recognize. It spread from my chest through my body, filling me with warmth and a longing to feel him next to me.

After so long being terrified of it happening, I let myself acknowledge the truth. Carter had snuck past my guards and blown me away. It wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what the three date rule was supposed to prevent.

Along with the acknowledgment came a renewed determination. Tonight would be the last night we ever spent together. It was the only way to protect my heart and my life.

I stopped fighting the truth. Tonight, I would let myself feel everything for Carter. We would love each other, and I would enjoy pretending like this feeling could last forever.

Until the morning.

With new eyes and ears, I enjoyed the rest of Carter’s performance. He played several more pieces, each strikingly different from each other but sharing in one aspect—they showcased his consummate skill. In this realm, he was a master, and that only drew me further under his spell.

As the final note extended and faded over the hall, a raucous ovation erupted from the audience. Whistles and shouts joined the clapping as Carter bowed several times. He looked up at me and winked, and I blew him a kiss.

He didn’t linger in the adoration for long before exiting the stage.

“That was incredible,” said the woman beside me to her husband. “I think he’s my new favorite.”

He nodded. “I had heard good things about him. I’m glad to see that they’re all true.”

The woman turned back to me. “You hold onto that man, Madison.”

How could I say that tonight would be the last time I ever saw him? It was better to lie.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said. “He is pretty impressive. And he hid this from me. All this time, I thought he was a guitar player in a band.”

That spawned a guffaw from the man. “Carter Atkinson? A guitar player? That explains the look on your face when he appeared on stage. I’m Jon, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I shook his hand and then his wife’s.

“I’m Tiffany,” she said. She leaned toward me in a conspiratorial fashion. “I hope that you’ll join us in the box again. We’re here every few weeks. Jon doesn’t like taking the time away from his work, but I insist.”

“I heard that,” Jon said. “If I wasn’t working, we couldn’t afford the box seats.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “The company runs itself these days. What else are your employees for?”

Their exchange was light-hearted and gave the impression that they had talked about the issue countless times.

A moment later, Tiffany looked behind me and smiled. “Looks like your date has returned.”

Carter stood at the door to the box, a broad grin on his face. I rose from my seat and threw myself into his arms.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard!”

I kissed him hard but tried to keep it short out of respect for Jon and Tiffany.

Even still, by the time we separated, I was short of breath. After everything he’d done tonight, all it took was a few seconds in his arms and he had me revved up and wanting.

“Thank you,” he said. “And thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope it was worth the surprise.”

I shook my head slowly as I smiled. “I can’t believe you got away with such a bold lie. When you showed up on that stage, I almost lost my mind.”

“I never lied,” Carter corrected. “I just didn’t correct your assumptions.”

I had to give him that. My deductive skills rarely failed me, but this time, they’d led me astray.

“You are so good. All this time and I never knew.”

We retook our seats, and Tiffany leaned over to catch Carter’s attention.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was an extraordinary performance. I’m looking forward to seeing you play again.”

Carter flashed a bright smile and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot.”

The lights dimmed once more, and the musicians who had taken the stage next began to play.

“Are you done playing for the night?” I whispered.

“Yes, why?”

I fidgeted in my seat. My arousal had risen to where it was almost uncomfortable.

“Would you be upset if we missed the rest of the performance? As much as I’d enjoy it, I need you to take me back to your place and fuck me until I can’t speak anymore.”

The look he gave me was pure fire, and he nodded.

As quietly and smoothly as we could, we rose and exited the box. I waved at Tiffany and Jon as we went, blushing at her knowing wink.