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After getting dressed for the day in the bathroom, I held my breath as I gently turned the doorknob, praying it wouldn’t make a sound. When I pushed the door open and saw that Kane was still sound asleep on my bed, I exhaled.
After we’d made love, I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d been too worried I would accidentally roll over on him. I waited until well after the sun came up before slipping out of his hold and going to take a shower. After that, I had coffee out on the back deck, watched the sunrise, and thought about what my next steps were going to be.
I still hadn’t nailed down an exact plan when the sun was in the sky and my coffee mug was empty. Instead of driving myself crazy worrying about Kane the rest of the morning, I went back upstairs, sat in the chair across from the bed, and stared at Kane until I had to pee. My bladder demands coincided with my also needing to get dressed to go get Harper.
Now, as I stared down at his gorgeous face, I couldn’t get over how peaceful and relaxed he appeared to be. The only indication that he’d had a bullet enter and exit his body the night before was the bandage on his upper arm and his sling. I stared at the evidence that his career was dangerous. It was unpredictable. He put his life on the line every time he started a shift.
During my morning Kane-watch, all the things I had spent years stressing about auditions and roles, about ‘making it’ and not failing, revealed themselves to be trivial and meaningless. I’d lost sleep over rejections, second-guessed myself after every audition, and had panic attacks over my perceived failure because of arbitrary goals and milestones I’d set for myself by certain ages. I’d had a breakdown and became clinically depressed over a five-minute video that went viral.
As I observed Kane sleep, I realized none of that mattered. Those weren’t life-and-death situations. I’d cared so much about what strangers thought, and the truth was, their opinion was completely irrelevant. The only thing that mattered were the people in my life who I loved. That’s it. Nothing else.
Since I could remember, I’d been doing everything I could to prove to people that I was worthy. That I wasn’t trailer-trash. That I was more than just the product of a torrid affair with a married man. I’d pursued a career out of fear of not being enough, not out of love for my craft. My Broadway goal wasn’t authentic; it was fueled by self-serving insecurity.
I’d thought coming back to Wishing Well was my rock bottom, but the truth was, that’s what the past eight years of my life had been. I wasn’t happy in New York. I was insecure, anxious, and unhappy.
This summer, being home, I’d found myself again.
I’d thought that I was a penguin trying to be a panda in Wishing Well, but the truth was, I did belong here.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, alerting me to a message, and I quickly and quietly exited the room. Once the door was shut, I checked and saw that I had a voicemail from my agent—well, my former agent.
I also saw that it was almost noon, and I needed to go pick up Harper from her sleepover at Destiny’s. After heading downstairs, I checked on Otto and found him ‘resting his eyes’ in the recliner in his room. He was mumbling in his sleep, wearing a small grin, and I wondered if he was having a dream about Margie. The thought warmed my heart as I walked outside and climbed into Kane’s truck.
On the way to Destiny’s, I played the voicemail on speaker.
“Hello, beautiful! It’s been too long. Listen, I know that you are taking some time for yourself and recharging, but I hope your battery is full because there’s a project that I think, no, I know, you’ll be perfect for. It’s a new reality show called Center Stage. Think Real World meets American Idol meets Survivor meets Big Brother. It’s going to follow the journey of eight Broadway actors on their journey to Center Stage. All of the cast will live in a house. Production will follow you to auditions and rehearsals. There will be challenges and weekly public voting. And the best part is, they want you. No auditions. This is an offer.”
I was only half-listening to the rest of the message. Six months ago, or even two months ago, I would have killed for this opportunity. It was great exposure, and even if I only lasted in the house for a short time, it would be content for my social media and most likely garner me more followers. More followers gave me social proof, which worked in my favor during castings.
But now, it sounded like a nightmare. I didn’t want to live in a house with strangers. I didn’t want to have to be ‘on’ twenty-four-seven. I didn’t want cameras following me around. The thought of going to an audition made me feel physically ill.
As much as I’d thought that the life I wanted was on the stage, I was wrong. What I really wanted was to be happy, and this is where I was happiest. I loved working with kids, and I was nearly done with the first draft of the first installment of the Panda the Penguin book series. I’d posted a few teasers on my Instagram and TikTok and had already received several inquiries from literary agents who represented children’s book authors.
Technically, if I accepted the job, I could still finish the book. Even though my first reaction was no—actually, it was hell no—I didn’t want to make a rash decision. Maybe going back to New York was the right thing to do.
On the way to Destiny’s house, I passed the Pit Stop. It felt so much longer than a few months ago; it felt like a lifetime ago. Moments flashed in my head, like one of those montages on YouTube that fans make of their favorite characters in a movie set to some sad pop song. Scenes played out, one after the other. Me turning around and seeing Kane for the first time behind me. Meeting Harper at the senior home and running into Kane again. Going out for a ‘girl’s night’ and going home with Kane. Finding out the next day that I was stranded. Kane offering me a job and a place to stay. Him showing up at my door and inviting me to the Movies in the Park. Him standing at that same door later in the night and telling me he shouldn’t want me. Us dancing under the stars at the reception. Kane going to my room after he was shot and telling me he needed me. Him lying on my bed, telling me to sit on his face. A shiver ran through me as my montage turned X-rated.
Miss Dottie was right. My life imploding and being stranded in Wishing Well truly had been a blessing in disguise.
As I pulled up in front of Destiny and JJ’s house, my phone rang again; this time, it was Remi.
I answered it. “Hey, bubbas.”
“Is Kane okay? I got a Google alert about a shooting in Wishing Well. They didn’t name the officer shot; was it him?”
“Yes. It was, but he’s okay.”
“Kane got shot?” Remi repeated in disbelief, almost to himself, like he needed to hear himself say it to make it true.
“He did. In his arm, but the bullet went straight through.”
“But is he really okay? Have you seen him?”
I’ve done a little more than just see him.
“Yes, I’ve seen him. Yes, he’s okay. I’m going to pick up Harper now; she spent the night at Destiny’s after the wedding; he was asleep when I left.”
I heard Remi exhale in what sounded like relief. “Tell him to call me when he gets up.”
