Swept Away: A Small Town Romance (The Moore Brothers Book 3)

by Abby Brooks

  Roses of all colors. Lilies. Tulips. Daisies. Orchids. Sunflowers. Peonies. And several others she didn’t know the names of.

  A dancer stopped behind her and peered around her into the room. “Yeah, those came for you just a little bit ago.” The girl laughed. “It took three delivery guys like five trips to get them all in. There’s a card on your makeup table.” She leaned around to meet Willow’s eyes. “Someone sure loves you.” She smiled and then walked away, heading towards the dressing room down the hall she shared with the other corps de ballet members.

  Willow stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind her. The scent of all those flowers in the small space was heady, like springtime in heaven. The card was propped up on the table in front of her mirror. For some reason she was nervous to open it. Afraid to see what it said, suddenly certain that Harry was warming her up so he could leave her later without feeling bad about it.

  But that was ridiculous. A man didn’t spend hundreds of dollars on flowers after spending hundreds of dollars on plane tickets just so he could leave the woman who loved him.

  Right?

  After a few heart-pounding seconds, Willow walked over to the card and picked it up. Inside was a handwritten note in Harry’s tidy script.

  I never thought to ask you about your favorite kind of flower. Rather than choose the wrong one on such an important day, I went ahead and bought them all.

  Nothing between us.

  A scrawling H stretched across the bottom of the card. Willow pressed it to her chest and spun in a circle, taking in the dozens of arrangements filling up the room. “Nothing between us,” she whispered and then sat down to start applying her makeup and getting ready for the stage.

  27

  It was killing Harry not to see Willow before the show. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her body into his. Kiss every single inch of her face and tell her that he loved her more than anything. That he would move heaven and earth for her. Sitting here in the theater, surrounded by the conversations of strangers and the discordant sounds of the orchestra warming up was torturous while knowing that he was in the same building as her and couldn’t be with her. Somewhere behind that red velvet curtain covering the stage, the love of his life was getting ready to dance in front of all these thousands of people.

  Pride surged in his heart.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to find a text from Willow, a picture of every possible surface in what must be her dressing room hidden by flowers.

  Lilies are my favorite.

  Another text, this time a picture of her, her hair piled on her head in intricate braids, happiness gleaming in her beautiful blue eyes. He read the words she sent a second later and smiled.

  Nothing between us.

  He almost wanted to show the picture to the woman sitting beside him. Let her realize that the woman in the picture was the very same woman in the picture she was studying in the program. That’s right, he would say. That’s my girlfriend.

  Except girlfriend was such a cheap word. It was too small to communicate what she really was to him. Instead of flashing the phone at strangers, he smiled to himself and sent a text back.

  Nothing between us. :)

  I love you, my angel.

  That’s exactly what he wanted. Nothing between them. Just a few days ago, he had talked himself into leaving her. Talked himself into giving his grandmother’s ring back to his mom and giving her some lame excuse as to why it had to go back in her jewelry box rather than on Willow’s finger. He had decided he would tell Willow he didn’t want to be with her because there was no way in hell she would let him leave her if she thought he still loved her. No way she would let him sacrifice himself for her.

  But, if he told her he didn’t love her … well … she wouldn’t fight that, now would she? It would hurt at first, but she was strong. She would get beyond it and get her life back on track. She could get the promotion she deserved. Find a new ballet that she wanted to perform. Keep gaining more and more fans. Keep growing and changing and learning and setting new goals and creating the best possible path to success.

  After the conversation they had a few days ago—the one where he had well and finally decided that he was going to call it off, the one where she called him on it and told him that he was it for her—he realized he couldn’t leave her. Not when she was in the middle of planning a future with him.

  He still wasn’t sure if he would be moving to New York or if she would be moving to Bliss. That was a conversation they had to have together, a decision they needed to make together. It wasn't for him to decide what their future would look like, it was up to them to design it the way that would best 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 here for it. So hopeful that it would go well, and suddenly terrified that Sir Sweaty Palms didn’t remember to put the chalk on his hands and Willow would slip or he would drop her.

  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 this moment of pregnant silence as the entire theater readied themselves for the music. Harry held his breath, waiting. And then the conductor brought his hand down and the first, rich blend of strings and horns of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet filled the theater. This was the first time Harry had ever heard it live, and good god, to hear such powerful music played by the New York Symphony Orchestra was an experience he would never forget. Goosebumps rolled across his arms and back and he shivered in delight. Closed his eyes and lost himself in the familiar melody.

  The sound of the curtain opening brought another round of excited applause working its way 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, Harry 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 had never met this woman before. Well, that was until she smiled. And then he recognized a 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, and lost himself to the ballet. Surprised to find great waves of pleasure rolling through him as Juliet met Romeo and he recognized the way Willow had 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 taken the time to infuse their story into the ballet. That he truly was watching his own experience 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 this incredible creature 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 over top of 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 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 Juliet’s past and present and deemed them all unworthy in Willow’s presence. “She’s impressive.”

  Pride choked him and he just nodded. Impressive. Willow Tamran was impressive and, even more important than that, she was his and he was hers and this beautiful ballet, it was theirs.

  The intermission ended and Harry lost himself to the story again. Gasped when the audience gasped. Laughed along with them. And as the ballet came to its tragic end, he watched with his mouth open and tears burning his eyes as Willow screamed out in silent agony when she found Romeo dead beside her. Couldn’t breathe around the weight in his chest as she took the knife from his 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 sniffling and blowing their noses, drying their eyes and exploding into applause, Harry got up and left the theater.

  28

  The curtain closed on the end of the first act and Willow put her hands on her hips and worked hard to blow air out of her mouth and catch her breath. Her hands shook and sweat cooled on her brow and she had absolutely no idea how the ballet 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.

  She wasn’t telling Shakespeare’s story, she was telling her own.

  Her mouth was dry and she wandered offstage to grab a drink of water. Giuseppe grabbed her hand. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m busy you 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 behind. “I’m gonna go get a drink before I change my costume. See ya onstage?”

  “See ya onstage.”

  So many people stopped her between the stage and her dressing room, grabbing her arm and using words like triumphant and exultant, that Willow lost count. 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 it off when the show started and hadn’t thought to turn it back on again, but part of her worried that he wasn’t enjoying the show. 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 scenes coming up took more and more out of her as the ballet progressed. As it was, 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 in the audience get in the way of her performance. She cleared her mind by cupping one of the roses he bought her and breathing in its scent. 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’s what mattered most of all.

  * * *

  She lost herself to the rest of the performance. Stepped out of 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 the pain and worry of missing Harry in the last few weeks pour out of her. All of 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 this awful moment of silence before the clapping began and in that moment Willow’s eyes sprung 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 a goal off a list that she had created when she was too young to remember and now, relief flooded through her because she could put this all 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, could 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 in her chest, doing its best to challenge the audience for who could be loudest. The crowd, already cheering, exploded in a cacophony of sound 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 out onto the stage and held out his hands.

  “Thank you,” he said into a microphone in his hand. Willow was just as confused as the audience. The end of a ballet performance was just 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 out onto the stage and took the microphone.

  “None of you know me,” he said, striding towards the middle of the stage towards 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 out towards the people who had grown so still and so quiet in the theater. “I know I would have if I wasn’t already there.” Harry swallowed hard and smiled into the bright stage lights. “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 I fell even furth
er 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 would spend the rest of my life with.”

  Willow gasped right along with the audience as she understood what was happening. Up until that point, Harry had been addressing the audience. But then, he turned to Juliet and got down on one knee. Wrestled with the microphone as he tried to reach into his pocket and couldn’t for the life of him get his hand out once he’d gotten it in.

  He turned to the audience again. “Nothing personal, but this moment is really just for us anyway.” He put down the microphone and pulled a small black box out of his pocket. Willow’s hands were shaking and she was pretty sure she was crying again and she couldn’t catch her breath and if people had 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 and 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’ll marry me.”

  Willow was nodding before he even finished speaking, tears streaming down her face. Harry opened the box and damned if that diamond didn’t sparkle under the stage lights as if Harry had captured a star just for her. Unsure, she reached her trembling hand out towards him and he took it and kissed it before sliding the ring onto her finger.