"But why aren't you in rehearsal?" My question falls on deaf ears, as Josh has already moved on to delivering the drink to the aforementioned Ben Reynolds. I make my way through the crowd, no one paying much mind to me. Finally, I find Grayson sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs sprinkled about the lawn.
"Gray, mate, what's going on? Why aren't you all in rehearsal?"
"We ran through it once, and it was good to go. We've got two more days. With the amount of work coming up gettingShowmanready, I figured everyone could use a minute to relax and breathe."
"We'll breathe after Labor Day."
"Henderson, we've got something special here. You know it as well as I do. The next few weeks are going to be insane. Think of this—these few hours—as the calm before the storm. We're going to have eighteen-hour days. You know we'll be running on fumes soon. Let's fill up the tanks first. I only called rehearsal about an hour early anyway. We were in final costume and wig fittings tonight. Erica and Gloria assured me they could get it done, even with this. Plus, it's super nice of Tabitha to do this. I don't know how she pulled it together so quickly."
The spread is certainly more lavish than anything Hicklam is used to seeing. Charcuterie boards and tapas line the table. There's another table with oysters and shrimp. A raw bar?
Once again, I'm reminded how out of my league I really am here.
"Henderson, you're here! This is amazing," Jasmine says, whirling around, her ebony curls bouncing with her movement. "Get yourself a drink."
It sounds like good advice. I find a large tub of coldies over ice and grab a bottle. Looking at the label, I see they're microbrews from an Upstate brewery. Naturally. Nothing bottom shelf here.
As I wander around sipping my beer, I notice how relaxed everyone looks. Happy. These are some of the hardest working people I know. They're my friends. I want them to be happy.
I want to be happy.
With purpose, I set off to find Tabitha. Weaving in and out of the crowd, I don't see her outside. I check one room and then another, before I find her in the kitchen, along with two chefs clad in long white aprons. Her bright smile falls when she sees me standing in the doorway.
"You're here," she says flatly.
"Was I not invited?"
She shrugs. "I've got to tend to my guests." With that, she starts to walk out of the room.
"Tabitha, wait." I reach forward, gently grasping her arm. "I … can we talk?"
"Oh, are you talking to me now? I thought you were still ignoring me. Or wait, is now when you tell me you don't want to be with me? Or are you going to ghost me again? Or we could go right back to the beginning when you were just sullen and surly. I mean, it's always the same upshot—you don't want me. I get it. Message received." She tries to pull away.
I hold on. "No, don't. I don't want to topple over. I want to stay upright."
She blinks, looking at me blankly.
Right. She wasn't with me in the cemetery for my big epiphany. "I … I don't want to be with you."
"As you've indicated," she says dryly.
I put my finger on her lips. "I'm bad at this. I need to explain." I look around and notice that there are people milling about everywhere. "Can we go for a walk?" My finger lingers a moment longer on her lips. She nods gently.
"Let me go check on Paisley and see if Maria can keep an eye on her. And I've got to make sure Mandy and Ben are set. I don't know if they're staying here or getting on the road."
Now it's my turn to nod.
People are talking to me, but I don't hear what they're saying. Instead, my mind is abuzz with what I'm going to say to Tabitha.
I haven't the foggiest.
This goes against everything I stand for. Everything I believe in. Because, let's face it, I don't believe in love. I don't believe that it heals all or can move mountains or anything like that. From what I've seen, it tears you down and destroys everything you've built up.
I don't want that.
Yet I want Tabitha.
Christ, I'm a mess.
