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“Wait,” I called out as she started to turn, surprising myself. It had to be the scotch making my brain fuzzy, or else it was the lingering thrill of watching her move across the stage like the star she could have been. Either way, I couldn’t let go of her. Not yet. Not when I felt somewhere close to normal for the first time all night.

She turned slowly, arms folded across her middle, her shoulders raised. Doubting me, doubting herself, maybe. “What is it?” she asked, taking her time in lifting her gaze until her blue eyes met mine and made me forget everything I ever knew, except for how much I wanted her.

“There’s something I need to explain.” I slowly crossed the stage, lessening the space between us one step at a time. She could have backed away and told me to stop, but instead, she stood her ground with her chest rising and falling a little faster all the time while the air crackled.

“Unless it’s why you’ve been so difficult lately, I don’t need any explanation from you,” she insisted. “You don’t owe me one.”

But I did. I had no idea why, only that it seemed like I should explain. She was bound to hear something if she hadn’t already. “A few weeks ago, someone came in here,” I began.

That was as much as I managed to get out before her phone rang. She didn’t reach for it right away, still frozen in place and staring at me, but eventually, she turned her attention to it. “Give me a second.” There was nothing for me to do but grunt at being interrupted when I’d found the balls to confess how Mom had fucked my life to shreds.

She turned away, hunching over a little the way people did when trying to have a private conversation in front of someone. “Yes… I know. I got caught up. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

With a soft sigh, she added, “Tell him I’ll be there soon. I’m on my way.”

My blood began to simmer, and the world started to go red around the edges. “Him?” I asked as soon as she ended the call. “Who’s him?”

“Pardon?” Turning around, she laughed, her head snapping back before she looked me up and down.

“You heard me. Who are you rushing off to?” Did I sound like a prick? Probably, but then I’d had a few drinks and was already in a shit mood when I arrived. Politeness wasn’t a priority, especially when I now knew she was in a hurry to see some guy.

Her shoulders rose and fell when she took a breath before she backed away. “Do I ask you questions about your personal life? No, because it’s none of my business. Just like mine is none of yours. And as for who came in here a few weeks ago, that’s none of my business, either.”

“Wait,” I urged, but it didn’t work this time. She kept moving, shaking her head as she descended the stairs on her end of the stage, making me add, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“No, I think it came out exactly how you meant it,” she called out as she began walking up the aisle like I had a communicable disease she was trying to avoid. “See you tomorrow.”

Soon, I was alone again, standing center stage, wondering how it was so easy to want her and push her away when it was the last thing I meant to do.

10

WINTER

“What do you mean the set change can’t be completed within fifteen seconds?” I threw my hands in the air, staring at the trio of stagehands in charge of shifting the set between the first and second half of the first act. A magnificent temple replaced the mountain that my co-leads climbed while fighting off dancers dressed as writhing demons, looking to get in the way of their progress. They were a little unwieldy, yes, but I was supposed to be working with professionals.

“Like we said. It’s just not enough time to shift from one to the other.” The men exchanged a helpless look, shrugging. A handful of dancers wished me a good night in passing, but the pounding of my racing pulse almost deafened me. They could have been telling me to go fuck myself for all I knew.

I was either going to bite off my tongue or scream until the walls came down around us. “Do you know how many times we ran this in its original run? The crew over in France had this down to a science. Fifteen seconds, no more, no less, and there is just enough movement and music to fill that space. Now you’re telling me we need to add… how much more?” I was nearing the end of my patience, and I heard it in my voice, but this was one of many setbacks and challenges in the weeks leading up to opening night. Our assistant stage manager came down with a nasty case of the flu that was spreading its way through the cast and crew alike. Energy was low, and half of the costumes commissioned for our new cast members had not yet been finished, and I was now being informed of a set change that couldn’t be done in the allotted time frame.

“Another… ten seconds?” I sensed the apprehension in all three men standing before me and how much they dreaded having to give that update.

“Unacceptable. I know it’s possible because I’ve seen it done myself. Figure it out,” I urged, barely spitting out the words. I didn’t want to become a bully. But dammit, could anything go right?

“… rubbing off on her,” one of the guys muttered once I turned my back, planning on drinking more water loaded with vitamin C powder. I needed to stay healthy. It would have been difficult enough if this situation wasn’t so damn stressful, but stress would only lower my immune system further.

The comment slowed me down, and I considered turning around and asking what the hell it was supposed to mean. But that would have been a waste of time since I knew precisely what it was supposed to mean.

I was turning into Jackson.

It wouldn’t matter if I explained there was a difference between practically him making up things to be pissed off about and genuinely being concerned about an unforeseen challenge. They wouldn’t listen. And it would only make me seem that much more desperate if I huffed, puffed, and demanded they pay attention. It wouldn’t help a damn thing.

Instead, I took a few steadying breaths and pulled a vitamin C packet from my bag, emptying it into my water bottle and shaking it to mix everything up. Something had to be done about this. I was the first person to question whether I was asking too much of the people around me, and this wasn’t too much. Harrison was sick, and his assistant director was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, trying to cover for him while assisting Sophie in her stage management duties. Both of her assistants were also sick.

I was going to have to do it, wasn’t I? I would need to go to Jackson and ask him to talk to these guys since it didn’t seem like they were listening to me or taking me seriously. Granted, it had been a long day and a long couple of weeks since everybody started getting sick. We were all at the end of our ropes.

And to top it off, we were only a handful of weeks away from opening night.

The thought of a ticking clock made me grab my bag and make sure everything was inside before leaving the theater. Instead of heading for the parking lot like everyone else, anger propelled me from the theater and across the lobby into the attached hotel.