Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 129

My man.

The words struck Philip like a sledgehammer to the chest.

He wanted nothing more than to grab Celeste and demand an explanation—thirteen years together, and it all meant nothing now?

He wanted to ask her if she was really willing to become Alfred's mistress—was that what she wanted?

But when the words reached his lips, he hesitated.

He remembered The Robertson Group. And suddenly, he couldn't say a thing—he'd already lost Celeste; he couldn't afford to lose the entire company for the sake of love.

Celeste, meanwhile, was in high spirits as she returned home.

She had barely sunk into the plush couch when her long-silent phone lit up with a message.

"My orchestra will be performing in Asterwynn next month. Could you compose something for us?"

A cute little cat emoji followed.

It made Celeste smile.

She recognized the sender instantly—Kate Matthews, the celebrated conductor of an internationally renowned symphony, a famous composer and pianist in her own right.

Celeste and Kate had worked together for a while. There had never been a hint of rivalry or ego between them—only an effortless partnership and a creative spark that left most other composers in the dust.

But while Kate was utterly devoted to music, Celeste had chosen love with Philip.

Of course, Kate never knew much about Celeste's romance.

Over time, the two drifted apart.

Now, with Kate reaching out, Celeste guessed she must have heard she was back in Asterwynn.

The old friendship still counted for something.

Celeste agreed, and they arranged to meet at the café they used to frequent.

—

The weekend arrived.

Despite the years apart, conversation flowed as easily as ever.

While they chatted, a group of elegantly dressed women arrived at the next table, settling in for their afternoon tea.

One of them glanced at Kate's getup and snorted, "How did someone like that even get upstairs? Are we letting just anyone in for tea now?"

"Just ignore her," another woman replied breezily.

The group made themselves comfortable, totally at ease.

Kate eyed them over her sunglasses and smirked, "Some people really have too much time on their hands—and way too much to say."

Celeste would have let it go, but then another of the women piped up.

"Oh, Viola, you're here! I heard you play a mean violin. There's one right over there—why don't you give us a little performance?"

"Gladly," came Viola's voice.

Celeste turned at the sound, just in time to see Viola step up to the small platform. As she began to play, music flowed from her fingers in a gentle, lilting stream.