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He doesn’t answer but hugs me around my waist. I wipe a tear and squeeze him close. “Where’s Vince?”
But no sooner is the question out of my mouth than I see Vince coming up the walk. I stare at him incredulously as I wait for him to arrive and explain what’s going on.
“Moody called; Max got sent to her office for acting up in class. He was not happy you weren’t there. I was worried and thought you were sick at first, and then I checked the calendar. I knew you’d get here eventually. We’ve been in the car, keeping warm, waiting for you.”
I blink at him, trying to absorb everything. “The flowers?”
Vi
nce shrugs. “Max picked them out.”
I lean down and kiss the top of Max’s head. “Thank you, Max. She would have loved you.”
I turn back to Vince. “How did you find out what today is?”
Vince slips a hand along my jawline to cup my face. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t make it a point to know these things?”
This is one of those rare occasions when I have no words, but Vince somehow has all the right ones.
“You don’t have to do this alone, love. Not anymore.”
29
Jewel
Tonight is opening night for the winter musical, and things have been going a little too well. Everybody, including the crew, has gotten every line and cue down beautifully.
As for Max, his grandmother has failed time and time again to extract herself from the grip of Max’s abuser. The state is getting close to talking to her about forfeiting custodial rights and allowing Vince to adopt him.
I’m happily, yet temporarily, residing with Barry and Shelley, who are amazing, and their darling daughters.
Vince and I have been spending every moment together with Max when I’m not at work or at rehearsals, which means mainly we see each other on weekends.
The sets he and his team built are better than I ever expected, and so are the costumes.
As an apology for being distant, Mr. Rushmore sent a huge donation to the theater arts budget, which will allow us the money to do a certain musical next year that I’ve never been able to justify. I mean, we can often reuse a gazebo and a flowery meadow and a grand staircase and possibly even costumes that look like curtains. But a gigantic, terrifying animatronic bloodthirsty plant? That won’t ever pay for itself.
Weirdly, Mr. Rushmore also sent a huge bouquet of white roses to the costume department. The only thing I can guess is because Hunter Rydell is on the swim team with his daughter, but that seems a bit of a stretch. I should really stop trying to figure people out. Vince’s is the only response I’m interested in figuring out.
Dare I say everything is going swimmingly?
And then, I receive a phone call from Captain Von Trapp, and it’s possibly the second-worst news I’ve ever received in my whole entire life. I step gingerly into the backstage area where my true love is patching up a last-minute fix on the gazebo.
“Vince?”
He doesn’t turn around. “I know that tone of voice. What do you need, babe?”
“What size are you?”
He hammers a nail home. “Want me to take it out so you can measure it?”
“We both know standard measuring tapes aren’t enough for your size, not to mention your girth. No, I mean your shirt size and pant size.”
This makes him wheel around to face me.
“No,” he says before he knows what I’m going to ask.
Darn. I thought my jumping on the opportunity to compliment his dick size would butter him up. “Think of it as stepping out of your comfort zone!” I chirp.
