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The room filled with applause.
“Bow,” Lance whispered, squeezing her hand.
Feeling a bit silly, she did so.
He led her off the stage and round to the back as Lanette took to the stage again to perform another song.
“What are you doing here?” he asked the second they were out of sight of the audience.
Ouch. Not exactly what she’d hoped to hear him say. Then again, what had she expected? For him to immediately know what her song had meant? He was a man. Sometimes men had to be hit over the head with the obvious for them to recognize the truth, or so her best friend had told her repeatedly.
“I’m here to sing for you.”
His brow lifted. “I thought you didn’t like singing?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to be a part of the things you enjoy. Two months wasn’t enough time. I want more. I need more.”
He considered her a moment, glanced at the other crew members who were backstage, then pulled her toward the back. “Obviously we need to talk, but this isn’t the time or the place.”
“Obviously,” she agreed, knowing the other cast members were watching them curiously.
“I have to be there for the last song. All the cast members will be onstage for it. I give my thanks to the cast and the Senior Citizen Center, and then we’ll take our bows.”
“I can wait.”
The others lined up to take the stage as soon as Lanette’s number ended. Lance glanced toward her and looked torn.
“Go. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
“You’re sure?”
“In case you haven’t figured it out just by my being here, I’m planning to stick around, Lance. Two months wasn’t enough time. At least, not for me. Unless... You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”
She’d not even considered that he might already be seeing someone else. She couldn’t imagine it. Not with the way he looked at her. But sometimes people did stupid things.
“There’s no one else, McKenzie. Just you.”
Although his face went a ghostly white at his own words, they put such joy into her heart that she threw her arms around him and kissed him, letting every bit of feeling inside her show in her kiss.
One of the other singers cleared his throat, reminding them that Lanette’s number was coming to an end.
“Sorry,” McKenzie apologized, then took it back. “No, I’m not sorry. Not that I kissed you anyway. Just that I haven’t kissed you every night for the past month. I’ve missed you.”
* * *
Lance pulled away from McKenzie without saying anything.
He’d already said enough.
He’d said there was no one else.
Just her.
How could he have said that?
