Page 152 of Specters & Spotlights

His free hand lifted to her face.

The final line waited.

The audience knew it. The orchestra knew it. Every ghost in the rafters probably knew it.

It belonged to Darcy.

It belonged to Elizabeth.

It belonged to the show.

Graham looked at Elise.

Not Elizabeth.

Not the girl filling in.

Not the girl who could see ghosts. Not the woman with visible tattoos and rain in her eyes and a past finally burning itself out beneath the stage.

Her.

And when he spoke, he gave the line away.

“I love you, Elise.”

Her name landed between them in the rain.

The theatre inhaled.

Elise did not know whether the audience understood.

She did not care.

For once, being seen didn’t feel like danger.

It felt like arrival.

Graham kissed her.

Softly at first. A question.

Elise answered by stepping into him.

Her hands caught in the rain-soaked lapels of his coat. His arm tightened around her. The kiss deepened—not polished, not choreographed, not the pretty final tableau of a musical theatre romance.

Real.

Messy with rain and relief and adrenaline.

Full of every word they had not said because there had been ghosts to outrun, cues to hit, spells to cast, and fear to survive.

Somewhere above them, Kevin cheered so loudly that several audience members probably thought the balcony was haunted.

Fair.

The curtain began to fall.

Applause erupted before it reached the floor—wild, immediate, thunderous.