by Brooks, Abby
He wasn’t sure if it meant he would be moving to New York or if she would be moving to Bliss. That was a conversation they’d have to have together, a decision to be made together. After all, the rest of forever should suit them both.
The lights in the theater dimmed several times, the signal for everyone to take their seats. Harry’s stomach twisted nervously. This was such a huge night for her. Such an important moment. And he was so excited to be there for it. So hopeful it would go well, and suddenly terrified that Sir Sweaty Palms didn’t remember the chalk and Willow would slip or be dropped.
While Harry fought back the strange surge of nerves, the lights in the theater dimmed completely and a recorded voice came over the speakers, reminding everyone to turn off their phone and that flash photography was strictly prohibited. As the rustle of movement in the audience died down, the conductor appeared in the orchestra pit, illuminated by a single spotlight. He raised his arms and accepted the polite applause, nodding and smiling, before turning to the musicians and raising his baton.
There was a moment of pregnant silence as the entire theater readied themselves for the music. Harry held his breath, anxiously waiting. Then the conductor brought his hand down and the first, rich blend of strings and horns filled the theater.
Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet—this was the first time Harry had ever heard it live, and good God, hearing such powerful music played by the New York Symphony Orchestra was an experience he would never forget.
Goose bumps rolled across his arms and back and he shivered in delight.
He closed his eyes and lost himself in the familiar melody.
The sound of the curtain opening brought another round of excited applause through the audience. Harry opened his eyes and smiled as an energetic street scene came to life in front of him. There were harlots and beggars and sword fights and before he knew it, he forgot he was watching ballet and lost himself in the story.
And then there was Willow, looking so frail and tiny on that great big stage.
Except, it wasn’t like watching Willow at all, not the Willow he knew.
This was a child, a young girl who looked like Willow, excited to start her day and taking great pleasure in giving her nursemaid a hard time. She was quick and curious and somehow, Harry felt like he’d never met this woman before—until she smiled. Then he recognized a familiar wide grin that reminded him of the way she looked behind the wheel of his Jeep, honest and open and born of pure pleasure.
He sat back, entranced, utterly lost to the ballet. Surprised to find great waves of pleasure rolling through him as Juliet met Romeo and he recognized the way Willow looked when she saw him for the first time in Ian’s kitchen. And when Romeo first touched Juliet, Harry recognized the reverence with which he himself had first taken Willow’s hand.
As he watched the story unfold, he realized that Willow had somehow managed to infuse their story into the ballet.
He truly was watching his experience with her unfold on the stage in front of him.
He sat, breathless, during intermission; lost in a swarm of emotions he didn’t have names for.
He was proud.
Honored.
Falling even more deeply in love with that incredible woman as he watched Romeo fall in love with Juliet. He was lost in memories of his time with her, images of his own love story transposed atop the ballet. His chest heaved and his heart was full and he sat in stunned silence for more than a few moments.
“It’s a beautiful ballet, isn’t it?” asked the woman next to him.
He turned to her, not sure if he could trust his voice not to crack with the weight of his feelings. “I’m so impressed I don’t know what to do with myself.” Harry swallowed hard.
“I never miss Romeo and Juliet. And let me tell you, that girl playing Juliet might be the best I’ve ever seen. If she can keep this up, there won’t be a dry eye in the house in another hour or so. I’ve never seen so much nuance to the character.” The woman nodded as if she had the power to judge all Juliets past and present and deemed them unworthy in Willow’s presence. “She’s impressive.”
Pride choked him and all he could do was nod. Impressive. Willow Tamran was impressive and, even more important than that, she was his and he was hers and this beautiful ballet was theirs.
The intermission ended and Harry lost himself to the story again. He gasped when the audience gasped. Laughed when they laughed. And as the ballet came to its tragic end, he watched with his mouth open and tears burning his eyes as Willow screamed in silent agony when she found Romeo dead beside her. He struggled to breathe around the weight in his chest as she took the knife from Romeo’s hands and plunged it into her heart. It was so much more than he expected. So much more than he was prepared to handle.
The moment the ballet ended, the moment he could get up without being rude, he excused himself to the people beside him and, while the audience was still sniffling and blowing their noses, drying their eyes and exploding into applause, Harry left the theater.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Willow
As the curtain closed on the end of the first act, Willow brought her hands to her hips and worked hard to breathe through her nose and blow the air out through her mouth as she fought to catch her breath. Her hands shook and sweat cooled on her brow and she had absolutely no idea how the performance was going. All she knew was that she was pouring her soul into the movement and the music had become her lifeblood and the stage lights were the sun sparkling over the water in Bliss.
It wasn’t Shakespeare’s story she was telling; it was her own.
Her mouth was dry, and she wandered offstage, looking for a drink of water. Giuseppe grabbed her hand. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m busy falling in love with you tonight.” He pulled her into a light embrace. “Just don’t tell my boyfriend, okay?”
“It’s a deal,” she said and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, careful not to leave a lipstick stain. “I’m gonna go get a drink before I change my costume. See ya onstage?”
He nodded. “See ya onstage.”
So many people stopped her between the stage and her dressing room that Willow lost count. The theme was basically always the same, they’d stop in front of her or grab her by the arm and use words like triumphant and exultant. She was lost in a haze of exhilaration and exhaustion. Of growing fatigue and that wonderful rush of endorphins that came from pushing her body to the limit. And then there was the excitement of knowing Harry was somewhere out in that sea of faces.
Was he enjoying it? Was it strange for him to watch her pretend to fall in love with Giuseppe? Was he as bored as he had been at The Nutcracker?
At least he was sure to be enjoying the music.
She checked her phone while she touched up her makeup and changed into her next costume. Nothing. She knew he had probably turned off his phone when the show started and hadn’t thought to turn it back on again, but part of her worried he wasn’t enjoying himself.
If she had been doing her job well, he would have reached out as soon as the curtain closed.
Right?
He would have been compelled to use words like triumphant and exultant, just like everyone else.
Right?
Maybe only people who lived in the ballet world used words like that. Maybe he was out there counting the hours until he could finally get out of his seat and had no idea how he was going to hide his true feelings from her when she found him after the show.
Maybe you should stop worrying and work on getting back into character, she thought to herself.
The upcoming scenes would take even more out of her as the ballet progressed. She had to dig deep into emotions she didn’t like to feel in order to do the scenes justice. The last thing she needed was to let her worries about Harry get in the way of her performance. She cleared her mind by cupping one of the roses he’d sent and breathing in its fragrance. It didn’t matter if he was enjoying the ballet or if he was absolutely miserable
out there because one look around her dressing room proved that he loved her, and that was what mattered most of all.
* * *
Willow lost herself to the rest of the performance. Onstage, she stopped being Willow Tamran and became Juliet Capulet. She truly cried when she awoke to find Romeo dead at her feet in the crypt. As real tears ran down her face and her heart actually broke into pieces, she heard sniffles from the audience during quiet moments in the music. She channeled their sadness into her own, fed off the tears she heard from those around her, and let all her pain and worry of missing Harry over the last few weeks pour out of her. All the confusion over whether or not they were destined to be together tangled with the tragedy in the music—the heart-wrenching throb of the double bass, the soulful cry of the strings—and Willow’s heart was bare for all to see.
It was cathartic and it was terrifying, and she felt raw. As the curtain closed and the last strains of the music faded, there was an awful moment of silence before the clapping began and in that moment, Willow’s eyes sprang open and all she could think of was getting to Harry.
He was out there, on his feet, amidst the cheering crowd.
Part of the thunderous applause.
In the rush to clear the stage to begin curtain calls, excitement built in Willow’s chest, the emotional knots in her stomach unraveled and the realization that she had done it started her hands shaking again.
She had performed Romeo and Juliet in front of a full house at the Met.
With the fucking New York Symphony Orchestra playing.
She had just checked off a goal that she’d created when she was too young to remember and relief flooded through her because she could finally put ballet away and focus on Harry.
She wondered if she would see him, out there among the sea of faces.
Was he calling her name?
Was he shouting like the others?
If she closed her eyes and listened, would she hear him?
And then it was time, it was her moment to step back out on the stage and take her bows. Her heart thundered, doing its best to challenge the audience for who could be loudest. The crowd, already cheering, exploded in a cacophony of praise as she stepped onto the stage with Giuseppe.
A smile stretched across her face.
Wide and full, just like her heart.
She scanned the audience, ever hopeful to find Harry, but couldn’t see him.
She took her bow and stepped back, waited for the traditional bouquet of flowers to be given to her so she could take her next bow, but nothing happened. Instead, her director stepped onto the stage and held out his hands.
“Thank you,” he said into a microphone.
Willow was just as confused as the audience. The end of a performance was as ritualized as everything else in the ballet world. A hush fell on the theater, dancers and musicians and spectators alike confused by the break in tradition.
“I promise I’m not here to take up more of your time, and I promise that you’re going to love what’s coming next as much as you loved tonight’s show.”
The director kept speaking but Willow couldn’t hear anything he said, because there, standing in the wings looking so handsome in his suit, was Harry.
He saw her see him, and smiled broadly, blew her a kiss and winked and then, for no reason that she could understand, the director announced his name and he stepped onto the stage and took the microphone.
“None of you know me,” he said, striding to the middle of the stage toward Willow. “Well, one of you knows me.” He reached for her hand and pulled her away from the rest of the dancers. “I think you guys all fell in love with Willow Tamran tonight.” Harry smiled at the nameless people who’d grown totally still in the theater. “I know I would have if I wasn’t already there. This woman has my heart. And just when I thought I didn’t have any more love to give her, I came here and watched her dance like she just did and somehow…” He choked back the emotion that threatened to steal his voice and closed his eyes. “Somehow, I fell even further in love with her. And even though I had this all planned weeks ago, watching her dance like she just did only solidified for me that this was what I want. I knew, from the very first moment I saw her, like Romeo knew when he saw Juliet, that this was the woman I was meant to spend the rest of my life with.”
Willow gasped along with the audience as she understood what was happening. Until that point, Harry had been addressing the people watching. But then, he turned to his Juliet as he dropped down on one knee. He wrestled with the microphone as he reached into his pocket and couldn’t for the life of him get his hand out.
He turned to the audience again. “Nothing personal, but this moment is really just for us anyway.” Harry sat the microphone down and pulled a small black box out of his pocket.
Willow’s hands shook and she was crying again. If people thought words like triumphant and exultant were appropriate before, she couldn’t imagine what words they would choose now.
“Willow,” he said, looking straight through her eyes into her soul. “I can’t live a life that doesn’t have you in it. I would cross heaven and earth for you. Buy a million plane rides for you. Move my small-town ass to the big city for you. Whatever it is I have to do to make sure there’s truly nothing between us, you better believe I’m going to do it. Marry me, Willow. Make me the happiest man in the world and say you will.”
She was nodding before he even finished speaking, tears streaming down her face. Harry opened the box and the diamond sparkled under the stagelights as if he’d captured a star just for her. Unsure, she reached her trembling hand out toward him and he took it and kissed it before sliding the ring onto her finger.
The audience erupted into applause. Cheering and screaming and calling her name. Harry stood, beaming, and she threw herself into his arms. He picked her up and spun her around and the whole theater—dancers and audience alike—went wild.
“I’m probably getting makeup and sweat all over your gorgeous suit,” she said as he put her down.
“I don’t care.” Harry cupped her face and kissed her. “Say it so I can hear it,” he said when he pulled away. “Tell me you’re gonna be my wife.”
“Yes! Yes! I’ll be your wife!”
Harry gave Willow the most wonderful smile, one that said he loved her and he was hers. Forever.
After several moments, he bent to pick up the microphone from the ground. “She said yes!” he cried and the audience cheered. The curtain came down and he and Willow were surrounded by a throng of dancers and well-wishers, so many people it would have been easy to get separated by all the hugs and congratulatory pats on the back.
But no matter how many awkward handshakes he accepted and one-armed hugs she had to give; Harry kept his arm wrapped firmly around Willow’s shoulders.
Careful to remain true to his word and keep her at his side—from that point forward, there would be nothing between them.
Epilogue
Willow
“Have I mentioned how glad I am that I never have to miss this again?” Juliet leaned on the counter in Lilah’s kitchen, a wide smile gracing her pretty face.
Willow glanced around, careful to make sure Harry’s sister wasn’t in earshot. “You say that like we used to make a habit of attending lavish dinner parties thrown by spoiled socialites.” She was grateful her soon-to-be sister-in-law had thought to throw her a welcome home party, but somehow, the event felt like it had more to do with Lilah than Willow.
“You know what I mean. I mean this.” Juliet gestured between them. “Us. I’m so glad you’re here for good.”
“Me too, Julz. Me too.”
The move from New York to Bliss had been easier than Willow expected. She’d prepared to grieve the loss of ballet once the glow of happiness from Harry’s proposal faded. After dedicating her entire life to the pursuit of dance, she expected its absence to hover like a phantom limb. An awareness of something lost.
The grief never set in.
One door closed and another opened.
As time passed, each day redefined happiness.
“There you two are.” Lilah stormed into the room with a smile on her face and venom in her eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you and here you are, in the kitchen of all places. We’re about to move into the sitting room for conversation.”
Juliet shot Willow a look that said ‘busted.’ “All right, Lilah. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Harry appeared behind his sister. “Be where?”
“In the sitting room.” Lilah popped a hand on her hip.
“Oh…” He fought back laughter as he leaned against the doorframe. “The sitting room.”
“Yes, the sitting room. I thought that would be a better place enjoy some light conversation than say, I don’t know…the kitchen?” Lilah left in a huff and Harry rolled his eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder how she and I came from the same family. What, exactly, is a sitting room and how is it better than the kitchen?” He strolled through the door and drew Willow into his arms, cupped her cheek, and stared deeply into her eyes. “I don’t know how I managed to spend any time without you at all.”
Willow nuzzled into his palm, her eyes closed. “As long as you don’t make a habit of it.”
Juliet cleared her throat. “For goodness sakes, you two. Why do I feel like I need to clear the room and give you some privacy?”
“Now you know how I felt!” Willow barked laughter. “I swear every time you and Ian are together, I feel like I’m interrupting a private moment.”
Harry nodded his enthusiastic agreement. “I thought that was just me.”
“You thought what was just you?” James asked as he pushed through the door with Ellie in tow.
“Apparently, every time I talk to Ian, Harry and Willow feel the need to clear the room.”
