Page 72 of Until We Come Home

My attempt at an unbothered tone fails, and Lark and Maren exchange a look before breaking into identical grins.

“I take it Lark filled you in on our little situation,” I say dryly.

“Well, Lark tried to keep her lips sealed, but I had my suspicions after seeing you two at the lake,” Maren says. “To answer your question, no, he didn’t ride with us. He was already in Seattle. But Calvin spoke with him this afternoon, and Mateo said he was coming. So he should be here soon.”

My stomach flips at the thought of seeing him. Ever since the lake, I've felt incapable of acting normal around him. To make matters worse, Derek and I have been officially back together for over a week now, though we haven't seen each other in person since; he's been busy setting choreography out of town. He's been texting me all night, but my mind is elsewhere.

I laugh, not very convincingly. “I just hope things aren’t too awkward between us tonight. We’ve barely spoken since I told him Derek and I were giving it another shot.”

“Oh, honey.” Lark reaches over and squeezes my arm. “He’s still coming, isn’t he? That tells you everything. Whatever’s going on with you two, he’s not going anywhere.”

“She’s right,” Maren says. “Give it a little time. You two have way too much history for one weird summer to undo it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say. “I just hate feeling like I ruined our friendship.”

“I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything,” Maren says, taking my hand. “And don’t dwell on it tonight. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Go out there and focus on your showcase.”

She’s right. And I’m grateful neither of them says the other part out loud. I already knew where Lark stood on Mateo, and one look at Maren’s face tells me she’s been rooting for him right alongside her. I can’t think about any of that right now. Tonight belongs to the kids, the foundation, and the choreography I’ve poured my heart into for months.

“Okay, speaking of which,” I say, shaking it off, “I really need to head backstage and get into costume. But I’m so glad you guys made it!”

After trading quick hugs and good luck wishes, I head back through the side doors toward the dressing rooms. Backstage is a chaotic blur of dancers, costume racks, and stage managers barking cues into headsets, a frantic energy that somehow still has its own order.

I weave through the hallway into the main dressing room.

Sitting in the makeup chair surrounded by the chatter of the company dancers, I take a slow breath and try to center my thoughts on the performance ahead, forcing the personal distractions away.

“Mia,” Jada calls out, popping her head through the door. “Look who snuck backstage to surprise you.”

My chest tightens as I glance toward the heavy black curtains, a foolish leap in my pulse making me think—just for a second—that it might be⁠—

It's Derek.

I stare at him, my mind going blank as he steps into the light with a broad, confident grin, and a couple of heads turn along the row of mirrors.

“Surprise!” he says, spreading his arms wide. “I managed to clear my schedule early so I could be here for you tonight.”

“Oh!” I stammer, scrambling up from my chair as my brain catches up. “Oh my gosh, wow! What a surprise!”

Jada slips out, and Derek steps forward and pulls me into a firm hug. I hug him back, resting my face against his shoulder, but something hollow opens up in me despite his warmth.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to get away from LA rehearsals until next weekend,” I say, leaning back to get a look at him.

“Well, I got a last-minute flight.” He cups my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin. “I have to fly back first thing tomorrow morning for rehearsals, but I couldn't miss your big showcase. Plus, going this long without seeing you was driving me crazy.”

I force a smile and nod, and then he leans down and kisses me—a slow, lingering kiss that should feel romantic and familiar. Somebody down the row lets out a whistle. But as I stand there in his arms, waiting for that comforting spark of connection, nothing happens.

Panic tightens in my gut. Every instinct screams at me to pull away, my whole body resisting the touch, and I don’t understand why I feel so disconnected from him.

He straightens, satisfied and oblivious. Unlike Mateo, who could read every micro-expression on my face, Derek misses the shift entirely.

“You look breathtaking, babe,” Derek says, beaming down at me.

“Thanks,” I manage. “I should probably get into my costume soon.”

“Right, of course!” He chuckles, stepping back toward the curtain. “I'll head out front and find my seat. Break a leg tonight, babe!”

“Thanks, see you after,” I say, holding the smile until he disappears through the curtain.