Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

A harp player strummed stings near an ice sculpture of an angel.

I quirked my eyebrows at Jean-Pierre. “This is a typical breakfast for you?”

“Aunt Delphine is being extra special today. She’s on team baby.”

Oh my god.

Breakfast rocked. We ate and laughed, and my French was improving, since I’d been forced to learn fast.

Not one regret. Everything is perfect.

Later that afternoon, we went to the beach.

It was miles of tan sand along blue waters. I lounged next to Jean-Pierre in the center of heaven. The sand was like warm powder. Velvet against my skin. I wiggled it between my toes.

After bathing in the sun, we played like kids. Always competitive, Jean-Pierre challenged me with finding better seashells than him. After an hour, we both had precious piles ready to be judged.

Rafael was supposed to be the judge, but he never chose the winner. Instead, he kicked our shells around and laughed at the corniness of it all. Jean-Pierre chased him away, and I watched them, seeing how they must’ve looked as little boys, racing after each other and giving their mothers nothing but trouble.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was part of a family. I’d just met Jean-Pierre, Rafael, his men, and aunts. Still, there was a comfort with them. We laughed and joked, and I felt more welcomed than ever before.

This is where I’m supposed to be.

We swam the rest of the day. Deep in the cool waters, small crabs scuttled around our toes and hours seemed limitless. Time was the warmth of our comfort and the excitement of our exploration in each other. For that day, we lived with the intensity of a hundred people aware that any moment could change everything.

Later, his Aunt Delphine, arrived at our section of the beach with a full staff and enough food for an extravagant picnic. However, the spread appeared more like a beach wedding reception. A long white table was set for thirty people. Elaborate flower arrangements dotted the corners. Waiters served drinks and guided us to our seats.

His other aunts appeared, as if we’d invited everybody.

“Again,” Jean-Pierre frowned. “Aunt Delphine is on—”

“Team baby.”

“Yes.”

“Ignore her. She must be bored with counting diamonds.”

I laughed. “Now she wants to count children?”

“Exactly. It’s funny how life works.”

We headed to the table to greet his aunts. There were tons of platters covered in oysters.

“Dear God.” Jean-Pierre leaned my way and whispered, “See. They’re trying to get us in the mood with these oysters.”

“As if you need oysters to get in the mood.” I couldn’t stop laughing.

Aunt Delphine grabbed our attention by clinking her glass. “Everyone!”

We turned her way.

She pointed to the sun. “The sunset. It’s the reason why we’re here. We must look.”

And then peace descended on the beach as we all watched the shift of nature in a matter of minutes. The tide receded from the vast expanse of sand. Seagulls flocked in hordes foraging for food. The sun sat in the sky like a fiery orange ball, slowly lowering down into the sea.

Further down the beach, lovers in bikinis and swimsuits, held each other close and watched the sunset too.

I wished I could take a picture of that moment—as well as the feeling of that moment. It was all I could do to not cry. Everything felt so good.

When the lower rim of the sun caressed the sea, everyone went to their seats. Waiters lit white circled lanterns around us and poured wine. A small chamber orchestra assembled next to us. I heard the word violinist spoken in French, and several people looked at me.

Jean-Pierre spoke up in French, “No, she will not play today. Let her rest.”

It was in that moment, that I realized I’d left Eros in Paris. Guilt hit me for a few seconds. I’d never been this far away from the instrument before.

It’s fine. We both need the break.

I brushed the guilt away, remained present, and on the beach.

The ocean shifted to indigo along a darkening horizon. A cool breeze brushed against my skin. Waiters brought over several dishes and my stomach growled with excitement. Others carried out several silver candelabras and set them on the table. One by one candles were lit and our space illuminated.

This is so beautiful. How will I ever get used to this?

My pocketbook buzzed.

Oh shit. That’s my phone.

My nerves instantly frazzled. I’d been waiting for my phone to ring this whole time. No one had called. Upon arriving in Nice, I’d been calling everyone and even texting them once a day. I didn’t want to bother Jean-Pierre, but I’d planned on asking him to check on my roommate Leo. He hadn’t responded back to any of my messages. I’d been asking how Vibrato and he was doing. And each time no response came.

Who is it? Leo? Celina? Shalimar?