“If she messes up even a little bit, the rest of the dancers will tear her apart,” he whispered.
“Don’t you believe in her?” I asked softly.
On the count of three, the music began, and Felicity and Melrose mirrored each other. If you took into account that Melrose had been training for years, the fact Felicity could do this much within such a short period of time was amazing. It was also why they were so pissed at her. It was hard to forgive someone who could do something naturally when they had slaved their whole life to accomplish. It was even worse when that person outshined you…just as Felicity did when she leaped to the air just a bit higher, and returned to the ground with gracefully while Melrose was just a moment off beat. If I hadn’t seen this routine a thousand times, it would have gone unnoticed. And if I could notice, so could Melrose. She was so annoyed with herself she slowly broke down… until she just stopped dancing altogether. She wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t the best, so she stopped.
Felicity didn’t notice. She wasn’t paying attention to anyone and danced in the middle of the stage by herself. She was beautiful.
I faced Violet to see what her reaction would be. She bit her lip so hard you would have thought she was trying to draw blood.
“Felicity, that’s enough!” Walt stood up. But she didn’t stop. “Felicity.”
“Felicity!” I yelled, and she froze.
Her chest was rising and falling over and over again. She had her hands on her waist as she took deep breaths.
“Felicity, rest for a few moments and come back. Everyone else, your break is over. Let’s run it again. We only have three hours before the musicians need the stage to practice.” Walt headed back to them, leaving only Violet in the chairs.
“I don’t care how well she dances,” she sneered, looking at me. “She isn’t better than me, and—”
“If it were Melrose, you would probably say thing the same thing, which is why she messed up. No one is trying to be better than you, Violet. She’s just dancing.”
“Mr. Darcy, the event planner wishes to see you,” a staffer said.
“Go, Violet, and rest.” Felicity had taken her place, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Felicity
4:50 p.m.
I was backstage, stretching my legs, when Melrose came over to me. Sighing, I looked away, but she sat in front of me.
“You piss me off,” she muttered.
That sounds like a personal problem is what I wanted to say, but I didn’t need to deal with any more shit today. So I said nothing.
“I’ve worked at dancing all my life. You just did a few years of school, and all of sudden—”
“Not just school,” I yelled at her, sitting up straight. “I was dancing before I knew how to walk. My mother was a dancer for the American Ballet Theatre. She would practice with me in her arms. And I would watch, wanting to be just like her. She was the one who taught me how to dance. Hell, she taught me how do everything. When she died, all I had were music and dance. I practiced every day and night for sixteen years. It wasn’t just dance school; it was Juilliard. It’s been a long time, and every part of me is aching right now, so please give me a break. I get that you people hate me.”
She reached into her bag to pull out a jar. “This is for the aches and pains. I was going to say you pissed me off, but I hope you dance like that at the gala. When you shine, we all do. I’d rather be backup to a great dancer than a second-rate leader. But watch out. Next time you will have to fight me for a spot.”
There were a few nods from everyone as they gathered their things, leaving one by one. When they were done, I collapsed on the floor.
Only a few more days, and this would be all over.
“Your mother was a dancer for the American Ballet Theatre?”
Rolling over, I saw the brace on Violet’s leg before I saw her face. Mentally, I groaned, getting back up. I can’t catch a break today.
“Yes, she was,” I muttered, taking my bag.
“What was her name?”
“Why does it matter?” I tried to move past her, but she clenched on to my arm.
“Who are you?” She glared at me. “You come in out of the blue. You have Theo wrapped around your finger, and now you’ve stolen my spot.”
Ripping my arm from her, I took a step away. “I didn’t steal anything. Your knee is ruined, and you can’t dance. I’m sorry. It sucks, but I didn’t do that to you.”
“And you got close to Theo so you could dance, right? You planned it from the start—”
“I know you and Theo once had relationship, but I didn’t ruin that for you either.”
Her jaw clenched. She pulled back her hand to slap me, but I snatched it.
“What, are we in a soap opera? You go around slapping people now? Get over yourself, Violet. The world does not revolve around you.” Dropping her hand, I left to get away from her.
“Something about you isn’t right, and I’m going to find out—”
“Goodbye, Violet!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Calm
Felicity
11:10 p.m.
I shot out of bed, running straight to the bathroom. Once again I was on my knees, my face in the toilet, puking. Once again my head felt like it was going to explode, and I was coated in sweat.
“Felicity?” Mark sat beside me. “The gala is in less than twenty-four hours. You need to get real sleep and eating something more than nuts.”
“Between my nightmares and my nerves, I don’t know how.” I picked myself up off the floor. Looking into the mirror, all I could see were the bags under my eyes and how horrible my skin looked.
“Maybe you should go to—”
“No doctors.”
“I wasn’t going to say the doctor. I know how you feel about them. I was going to say Theo.”
Not replying, I take my toothbrush.
“You were muttering something about him in your sleep. You won’t talk to Cleo or me. You need someone.”
Reaching for the mouthwash, I poured it into the cup.
“Especially someone who texts you to make sure you’re all right, even when you’ve shot them down.”
He placed my old black flip phone on the bathroom counter before leaving. I stared at it for the longest time before spitting out toothpaste and reaching for it.
Felicity, I want you to know you are a remarkable, strong, and beautiful human being. Despite what you may think, your past does not define your present, nor your future. Rest tomorrow, save your energy for the Gala. –Theo.
I tried to think of one reason why I shouldn’t text him and couldn’t find any. I’m so nervous I can’t sleep. I feel like everything is riding on tomorrow, and it makes me sick. I’m not as strong as either of us thinks. I’m scared, Theo.
He replied immediately: What do you need?
My heart drummed faster and my hands shook.
Me: I don’t want to do anything. But can I come over?
Theo: I’m still at the gala hall. But I’ll send over a car for you and meet you at my place.
Me: Thank you.
Theo: You never have to say thank you to me.
Smiling, I closed my phone and already felt better. I couldn’t deny I felt the urge to get dressed up even though I felt like shit.
“So you’re going?” Cleo was waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. Her hair was still in pigtails, and she was holding a glass of wine.
“The last week’s been rough. I need a change of scenery,” I replied on my way to my room to get my bag.
“Scenery has nothing to do with it. You should get over this on your own and not with—”
“I’ve been trying that, Cleo! I’ve been trying to do it on my own, but I’m so tired. I’m so tired I feel like breaking down. I just want to get through tomorrow, and Theo… he makes me feel okay. I want to feel okay. Is that so wrong?”
“We used to make you feel okay, Felicity. Not him!” she yelled.<
br />
“It isn’t enough anymore!” I screamed, and she looked at me like I had slapped her across the face. “You know I love you, Cleo, but it isn’t the same anymore.”
For some reason, whenever I was around her I felt worse and not better.
“Fine. Go to your prince charming, your Mr. Darcy. See if I care. But don’t come crying to me when he throws you out.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I took my things and stomped to the front the door. Mark looked between us but didn’t say anything.
Giving him a small smile, I left. I could hear the rain beating down on the world as I stepped outside, and I knew the car wasn’t here yet, but I’d rather wait out here than inside with her. I stood at the entrance of my building, watching the heavy rain slam the concrete. I wanted so badly to stand under it, but I remembered when Theo got sick and thought better of it. The last thing I wanted to do was fall ill before the gala.
A familiar sleek white Bentley pulled up, and Nolan, who wore a black driver’s hat, came around holding a large umbrella for me to stand under. Rushing to my door, I came out early enough to allow a bit of the cool summer rain to beat against my skin.
“It’s nice to see you again, Nolan.”
“Likewise, ma’am,” he said, placing the umbrella over my head and leading me to the car.
I got in the backseat, shivering at the sudden change in the air. I smoothed my hair to one side and noticed immediately we weren’t heading in the direction of Theo’s penthouse.
“Nolan, where are we going?” I asked, staring out at the window as we turned on Eighth Avenue toward the highway.
“Mr. Darcy requested I take you to his mansion.”
“The one on Wallingford Drive?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It was where we’d met. It felt like forever ago and not just a few short weeks. It was funny; the first time, I was all dressed up, my hair curled perfectly and makeup flawless. Now I was going in jeans and a button-down yellow shirt, my hair drenched and only ChapStick on my lips.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from him or if I should expect anything at all. What should I say? What would we do? I guess I would only know when I got there, but either way I was excited.
Resting my head against the door, I swear I had only closed my eyes for a moment when the car came to a stop and Nolan spoke to me.
“We’re here, ma’am.”
Wiping the corner of my mouth, I sat up straighter. Nolan didn’t move to open the door. I turned when it opened on its own. Theo stood under his own red umbrella, dressed in a gray fitted suit.
“Hi.” He smiled at me. His green eyes looked so clear, so happy to me.
“Hi.” Stepping out, I reached for my bag, however he got to it first.
“Let’s go inside—”
“Theo.”
He paused, facing me. “What?”
“Can you just kiss me for a second?”
I didn’t have to ask twice. His lips were on mine. He didn’t try to shove his tongue down my throat. Instead, he wrapped one arm around my back, pulling me close to him, and kissed me gently. It was way better than I could imagine. All I could smell was cinnamon spice and the rain. All I could feel was him.
I rested my head on his chest.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’m a thousand and one things, but okay isn’t one of them. I like you, Theo. I want to be with you. But no matter how hard I try, I feel like I’m failing at everything. I keep thinking that maybe if I dance or play again, I’d go back to the old me, that I’ll be okay, but I don’t know.”
“Felicity.” He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ears. “You don’t have to figure out everything right this moment, do you? What do you want right now? Don’t think of tomorrow or the day after that. What do you want to do?”
“Anything with you,” I answered without hesitation.
He led me inside. It was just like I remembered it: massive, classical, high ceilings with white crown molding. On the walls were all different kinds of paintings. It kind of reminded me of some palace in England or France. Letting go of his hand, I spun around.
“I love your house,” I whispered just as my stomach growled.
“Thank you,” he laughed, pulling me along. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I had Léon make us something.”
“I don’t know. I have a very strict diet, you know,” I mocked as we skipped past the stairs toward the back.
“Don’t worry. He’s taken that into account.”
Of course he had. Leave it to Theo to take care it of it all. When he stepped into the kitchen, which looked like it belonged in some showroom, he put my bag on the counter, along with his umbrella. I followed his every step, from the double doors of the refrigerator to the stainless steel oven. His coat jacket was off somewhere, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. His hair was a little damp from the rain, a few drops of water sliding down his neck and back.
“It should take five minutes to heat up… What?”
I shrugged. “I’m here with you again, even when I said I wouldn’t come back. I’m glad and kind of frustrated with myself.”
He wiped his hands with a towel, placing it on the counter before reaching for me. He spun me in his arms and lifted me, kissing me again as gently and passionately as before. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he stopped pulling back, placing me on top of the kitchen island.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Wine—”
“Let me rephrase the question. I have water, juice, and lemonade. What do you want?”
“Water.” I pouted, and he grinned, kissing me again. He took the water, and I lay back against the cold table. When I did, I noticed the ceilings had flower petals painted in on the edges. I suddenly felt hot again.
“I didn’t think you liked art so much,” I said.
“I honestly don’t really.” He placed the bottle beside me.
“What?” I turned to him.
He looked at the ceilings. “I didn’t buy this house for me. I bought it for my mother. This was where she worked during the summer. I would sit on this kitchen island, and she would be on her hands and feet, washing the floors. When I offered to help, she told me to do my homework if I wanted to help her. She worked day and night here until her disease wouldn’t let her. The former owners moved to France, and I bought it when I was twenty. They didn’t recognize me and didn’t remember my mother. I come here whenever I want to be reminded of her and everything she went through for me. Part of me wishes I could tell her it’s her house now, and she should kick her feet up.”
“So that’s why, when your brother Arty threw a party here for people looking to support themselves through other people, you were so pissed off.” I could only imagine how that must have looked for him and why his aunt had wanted to make sure Arty apologized. I felt guilty for even attending. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met him. “I’m not sure your mother would have liked me.”
“Why?” he asked, reaching for a glove to open the over door and pulling out the food. “I think she would have.”
“No.” I brushed my hair behind my ears. “The woman who keeps running away and coming back to her son, proving not only does she have personal issues but commitment issues as well. Believe me, you could do way better. Even I want you to do better.”
It hurt me to admit that.
He handed me a fork, placing the chicken breast with shaved brussels sprouts next to me. It looked and smelled amazing.
“Is that true?” He forked a brussel sprout and took a bite.
“Is what true?” I asked, following his lead but with a lot more chicken in my bite.
“Even you want me to do better than you?”
“Don’t you think so?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have texted you. You see yourself as this failure, and I see a beautiful woman fighting to do what she loves again.” He fought my fork away for another piece of chicken, grinning as he took his
prize. “I wonder which one of our views of the real you is right?”
“You don’t think you should be with some beautiful, bright, bubbly woman who has big dreams and an even bigger heart? A women who doesn’t come with baggage?”
“You just described a unicorn.”
I laughed. “What?”
“We all have scars, Felicity. It’s a hazard of living. Any person who is bright and bubbly all the time is probably hiding something.”
“Easy for you to say as guy. We women can’t let our scars show because we’re told no one will want us if we do.”
“Is that what women really think?” He paused, shaking his head. “That explains why there are so many of those goddamn scripts coming across my desk.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to go through all the scripts that are in production at the company. But I noticed the romance revue recently brought in shitloads of money. I asked for the scripts. It was the same, damaged alpha guys and the sweet naïve women who make them love again. I didn’t understand, but I guess now I do. You really think no one will love you if you’re the one broken?”
I kept eating until the thunder was so loud I jumped. Glancing around, I shook my head, grinning.
“You want to stand in the rain again, don’t you?” His eyebrow rose.
“So bad. But I don’t want to jinx it and make myself sick this time.”
“You don’t have to. Come on.” He clasped my hand, and we ran from the kitchen through the halls, going right, then left, then down the stairs at the back.
“Theo, where are we going!” I laughed, holding tighter to his arm.
He stopped at two white double French doors. The glass was frosted, so I couldn’t see anything inside.
“What is this?”
“You said you wanted to stand under the rain. This is the best we can do until after tomorrow.” He pushed open the doors, and the first thing I saw was roses of every different color. I glanced at the ceiling. It was all glass. We were in a greenhouse. It was cool and dark, the only light coming from the windows, which was barely any at all. The rain came down all around us, and it felt like we were in the heart of the storm.