Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Please. For me.” Tavio took my pause to press his case. “And you can bring Rudy.”
“Oh?” I stared him down, daring him to give voice to whatever conclusions he’d drawn over the last month. My old mentor knew me well, and I wasn’t shocked that he’d guessed, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a confirmation.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t said anything to Elaine.” He waved a hand like my mother finding out would be a mere annoyance. I wasn’t so sure I agreed. I’d be in for a lecture I’d rather avoid if nothing else. But Tavio blessedly did keep his voice down. “I’m merely observant, not a gossip.”
“Thank you.”
“So you’ll come to the party?” He bent forward, trying to catch my gaze, but I leaned back in my chair instead.
“I’ll think about it.” I gave him that much, if only to get out of more prodding. That and maybe Rudy would fancy a trip into downtown Philly. Away from the awkwardness of our mothers finding out, I could at least hold him as much as I’d like.
After Tavio left me to go find more agreeable conversation, I scrolled through my phone, checking the predictable assortment of holiday messages from Seattle. Cheerful but impersonal, the sort of “wish you were here” that left me wondering if I was truly missed at all.
Looking forward to getting you in the studio in a few weeks, our artistic director had added, another reminder that my time here was almost done. The lull after The Nutcracker would soon be replaced by rehearsals for the Valentine’s production. The thought of my triumphant return to the big stage should have filled me with anticipation, but all I felt was the heavy weight of expectation. After the success of The Nutcracker, I had fewer worries about my physical and mental readiness, but Seattle would mark the return to the grind and relentless pressure to keep the position I’d worked so hard for.
Sighing, I pocketed my phone in favor of gazing past the archway where Tavio had entered the larger formal living room, where clumps of guests were engaged in happy conversation. Holiday cheer was everywhere other than with me. In the far corner of the room, Rudy scooped up one of the twins, tucking the toddler neatly under an arm while mid-talk with Isabella. He wore a thick ivy-green cardigan over a funny Christmas T-shirt, looking like everyone’s favorite honorary uncle. He belonged here, surrounded by kids and family.
My brain leaped forward to some Christmas years in the future when I might make it back home for the holidays. If my career went as planned, it might be five years before I had another free December. Isabella’s hellions would be older. Would they even remember me? And what would I do if my mother invited Margie’s family again and Rudy arrived with a husband in tow?
Nothing. I would have to do nothing. Squeezing my eyes shut, I harrumphed to the empty space.
“Are you okay?” Rudy magically appeared in front of me, minus one toddler and plus a quizzical expression. “You seem even grumpier than usual. You should try joining the party.”
“I’m fine.” My weary tone didn’t sound fine, so I forced a flirty whisper. “Wishing we were alone, but I’m fine.”
“I wish that too.” Rudy carefully took the chair Tavio had vacated. “Maybe after the food, we can escape to the basement for a round of billiards.”
“Better yet, we sneak dessert to the pool house where we can be properly alone.”
“I’d like that.” His cheeks colored prettily. He slid a small package out of his cardigan pocket. “I did get you a little something as well.”
“Is it safe to open here?” My stomach fluttered. I hadn’t expected a gift. He’d wrapped the flat package in the same colorful reindeer paper he’d used for the game-group party.
“Yeah.” His blush deepened. “Totally prying eyes safe. I wasn’t sure whether I could count on a moment alone tonight.”
“Oh, I’m going to make alone time happen one way or another,” I promised. Unable to resist, I opened the package to reveal a small picture frame. The photo was a candid of me, seconds before I walked onto the stage for my Act Two entrance. I looked deep in concentration and utterly determined. “What’s this?”
“You said at the dress rehearsal that your return to the stage meant something. Amid all the other craziness of the production, I managed a half-decent pic of the moment.”
“I love it.” My throat felt too small for all this emotion, like a shrunken pair of tights. What truly meant something was him and our time together. “As lovely as this is, I kind of wish you were in the photo too.”
“Giving you a pic of me felt way too pushy.” He flexed his fingers back and forth. “But I’d be up for a selfie of us later.”