Page 75 of Until We Come Home

“I knew you’d understand,” he says, giving me a smug little nod. “I just hope you can respect our relationship and step back.”

The arrogance of it snaps the last thread of my patience, and I step into his space.

“Fuck off, Derek,” I say, low enough that only he can hear. “You decided Mia was amazing the second you felt threatened by me, which is pathetic, considering she’s been amazing the whole time. And if you’re proposing because you’re insecure, you’re an even bigger loser than I thought.”

I push off the wall and turn to go.

“Yeah, well, fuck you too,” he says to my back bitterly.

“There’s a fountain in the lobby,” I say without turning around. “Try not to fall in. I’m off duty tonight.”

I make my way back to the table and sink into my chair, blood pounding. Every part of me wants to cross this floor, rip back that velvet curtain, find Mia, and tell her I love her right now. But doing that would ruin the night she’s spent months working toward. So I sit in the dim light, force my breathing steady, and lock everything down inside.

CHAPTER 21

Mia

Watching the kids take their bow from the wings, I battle a swell of tears that threatens to ruin my stage makeup. They hit every transition, pouring their whole hearts into the routine, and the proud ache in my chest undoes me as the applause thunders through the hall.

The second they stream offstage into the wings, they swarm me, pulling me into a chaotic group hug while breathless laughter and excited chatter spill out all at once.

“I can’t believe you guys,” I say, and then laugh at myself. “No, I can believe it, because you’re incredible and I’ve known that since the first day. But that was something else.”

“Thanks, Ms. Monroe,” Ruby says, beaming. “That was the best feeling I’ve ever had on a stage.”

Emmy nods hard, still catching her breath. “And nobody missed a count. Not one.”

“We nailed it!” Danny adds, then goes red when everyone laughs.

“Ugh, don’t make me cry more,” I say, fanning my face, and they laugh at me harder.

I know full well I’m the emotional teacher, the one who tears up at her own students, and I’ve given up pretending otherwise.

“I couldn’t be prouder of you,” I tell them, giving them one last squeeze before sending them off toward the dressing rooms.

Backstage remains a whirlwind of energy and shifting props as the crew prepares the stage for the upcoming piece. Jada and I are set to perform our duet alongside a few of the other company dancers, a routine built around the wild beauty of the Pacific Northwest, in honor of the fire-relief work tonight supports.

I’m already in costume, so I step over to the full-length mirror by the quick-change rack for a last look. My dress is a pale, soft green with a fitted bodice and a short, floaty skirt, and tiny beaded wildflowers in every color climb up from the hem, raised off the fabric so they catch the light every time I move.

Under the stage lights the whole thing will glitter like something that grew instead of something somebody sewed. It might be my favorite costume I’ve ever worn, and I’ve worn a lot of them.

The makeup matches, lilac eyeshadow framing my hazel eyes, which looks very good if I do say so myself, and tiny silk wildflowers are woven into my braid. I feel like a woodland fairy brought to life.

Any other night, this is the part where I’d be feeling myself. I rarely get real stage fright anymore. What I get before a show is closer to impatience, an excitement I can barely hold still through, because I just want to be out there dancing already.

Tonight is different. My heart is pounding in a way it hasn’t in years, and none of it has anything to do with the choreography.

“Places, please, for the company piece,” the stage manager calls over the backstage chatter. “This is your places call.”

I head for the wings, where Jada and the rest of the company are already gathered in the dark behind the curtain, shaking out their legs and rolling their shoulders while the crew finishes up.

Jada nudges my elbow with a warm smile. “This is it. Let’s go out there and knock their socks off. And hey, I’m so glad you’re staying on longer. You should make it permanent, you know. I bet that’s what Claudia’s doing, testing the waters to see if you’d go full time.”

I laugh. “No way. I couldn’t anyway. It’s a massive life change, and with everything going on with Derek... well, we’ll see.”

“Ugh, fair enough,” she says. “But I’m not giving up.”

The stage manager gives us our cue, and the company dancers file past us onto the stage. Jada squeezes my hand once, and we follow them out into the dark and find our marks by the glow tape on the floor, the heat of the lights already on my shoulders.