by Staci Hart
“Then you have to tell her.”
I huffed, wishing I could. “Not without a plan. Doesn’t matter that I want to knock on her door right now and tell her everything.” I scrubbed my hands down my face. “Tell me not to do it, Tricky.”
Patrick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Just go tell her. Don’t make the mistake I did and keep it to yourself.”
“But what happened with you and Rose is exactly why I don’t want to just go over there, guns blazing. I’ve got to be careful and do this right. The timing is bad, Patrick. Really bad.”
He poured us each another drink, considering it. “I guess she is seeing somebody. Is she really that into Blane, though?”
His name hit me like a baseball bat to the face. I’d forgotten all about him for a minute, forgotten that I was supposed to spend a whole night with him and Lily. “Fuck, man. I don’t know. She wants to be. Tomorrow is supposed to be the last shot.”
“Look, you have to tell her, eventually. Can we agree on that?”
There was no way I could keep it to myself forever. I nodded.
“Do you think you can wait until after tomorrow night?”
I picked up my drink. “If I have to.” I knocked it back and set the glass on the table again.
He rubbed a hand on his jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe you should talk to Rose. She’ll know how to handle this better than anyone.”
I sighed, shaking my head with my eyes on the empty glass. “How did this happen? When did this happen?”
“It’s been happening for years, West.”
“I didn’t know. All this time, I didn’t know. I didn’t think I could have her, and I now don’t even know if she wants me. But I want her, Patrick. Right now, I’ll tell you that for a fact. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” It was clarity I’d found, as subtle as a bucket of ice water down my back. “How can I get through a whole night watching her with someone else? How can I keep this from her?”
“Maybe you should stay home.”
My brow furrowed. “And leave Maggie and Lily alone to deal with a bunch of drunk assholes? No way.”
He shrugged. “Then you’ve got to suck it up. Buy yourself some time so you can do this right. You’ve only got one real shot at it. Don’t fuck it up.”
Don’t fuck it up. No pressure. “Maybe I just shouldn’t ever tell her.” I knew it was an empty threat as soon as I’d said it.
He gave me a pointed look. “You really think you can keep your mouth shut forever? Because that’s not as easy as it looks.”
I sighed again.
Patrick leaned forward. “Listen. Cooper and I will keep your mind off Lily tomorrow night while we’re out. You can be there to check everything out without having to deal with it all alone. We’ve got your back. And tomorrow morning, talk to Rose. She’ll know what to do. If you can catch her early enough, you might end up with enough time to see to Lily before she leaves for the day.”
Patrick poured me another bourbon as I rubbed my face. I sat back on the couch and sipped it, feeling like I’d aged ten years. “And for now, I wait.”
He nodded. “You wait.”
“And I have to tell her.”
“You do. But not yet.”
“I can’t not tell her.” I stared at a spot on the wall.
“Nope.”
“And she might hate me for it.”
“Yup.”
I glanced over at him. “How have you been doing this with Rosie for all this time?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Because she knows how I feel. I have no choice. I fucked it up, and this is my punishment. There’s no talking about it, and there’s nothing to be done.”
“But you’re still friends. So there’s hope for Lily and me.”
“There’s always hope. That’s what keeps you going.”
I nodded. “How the fuck am I going to ever go to sleep?”
But Tricky only laughed. “This will help,” he said as he raised his glass, and we drained them together, pouring another without hesitation.
14
SCHEMES
Lily
I SIPPED MY COFFEE THE next morning with my eyes out of focus, staring in the general direction of the kitchen cabinets. I’d barely slept after the opera, tweaked out and unable to make any sense of the end of the evening.
I’d almost kissed West.
Embarrassment washed over me again at the memory. I didn’t know what had come over me — if it was just latent emotion from the opera or some mental sabotage connected with Blane. The opera had just been so overwhelming, not only because of the performance, but because of West. When he showed up in that suit and looked at me like … I don’t even know what. That look hit me in a way I couldn’t sort out. All night long, I kept catching myself falling into him, into his eyes, into his words.
I didn’t know what was the matter with me. When he touched my arm in the hallway and I looked up at him, I hadn’t wanted anything else in the world but for him to kiss me, and the feeling didn’t leave me. I lay in bed half the night staring at my ceiling, contemplating getting out of bed to go over there. If I’d have thought of anything to say, I probably would have. But I didn’t know what I even wanted from him. Besides his lips.
The thought was so upsetting. Here I was again, wanting something I shouldn’t. Maybe I only wanted things I couldn’t have, things that were impossible. Mental masochism.
I felt like an ass for putting West in the position to have to deal with my crazy. He was my best friend. I tried to make sense of it all, find some reason that would explain why I’d lost my mind. I mean, everything was coming to a head. The pressure of Swan Lake. The mess that was my relationship with Blane and the backlash of Nadia. I told myself I was just overwhelmed. Stressed.
Everything with West had to be a byproduct of that.
I smiled to myself, feeling relieved. Almost kissing West was just wine and stress and the comfort of a familiar face. West wasn’t interested in me like that, and I was with Blane — sort of.
Blane was trying, he really was, from sweet texts to the flowers. I was still determined to give it one last shot because I couldn’t take that kind of regret to the grave. I’d be an old lady in a nursing home, lamenting over canasta about ‘what if’ and doodling his name on the edge of my bingo card. So, if Blane was going to try, then so would I.
Third time’s a charm.
I pictured us all dressed up, arm in arm, and my stomach fluttered. VIP with Cooper was always fun, if not a little overwhelming. To live the life of the rich and famous for a few hours was a thrill, but I was glad I got to walk away from it at the end of the night. I couldn’t imagine living like that all the time, with everyone in your business, people trying to take advantage of you, cameras following you around. Even being remotely connected to that life through Astrid was enough for me. It was part of the reason why Cooper and Astrid were closed off to newcomers, and outside of our little group, stuck to others in their social circle.
I took another sip of my coffee and checked the time. My day was packed — rehearsal all day and a show that night. Luckily Serenade was short, and we were performing first. There would be plenty of time to get back here and get ready before we left. My hot-ass dress and a glass of gin would be waiting for me to prep for a night that had the potential to be one for the books.
Self-made magic. I was all about it. Maybe tonight would be the night that Blane would actually give it to me in the bedroom, because if he played his cards right, I’d let him. I wanted it given to me so badly, I could almost taste it — the sweet, sweet taste of satisfaction.
I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to my book. Everyone was still asleep, which wasn’t a surprise. I loved weekend mornings, those few hours where the world was still quiet, the day full of possibility, just me, a cup of coffee, a book, and the golden, early morning sunshine. That right there is happiness.
Rose’s door opened, and she stumbled out,
a mess of hair and legs as she headed for the bathroom, swearing under her breath when she bumped into the doorframe. My brow quirked, wondering why she was awake. I hadn’t expected to see her until I came home from the show.
When she reappeared a second later, she looked more together by only a degree. Her hair was a little less drunk lion and a little more tipsy llama. She mumbled to herself as she wandered into her room briefly, coming back to the living room with jeans on and her combat boots in hand.
“Where are you going, Sleeping Beauty?”
“Breakfast.” The word was a curse if I’d ever heard one.
I eyed her. “With who?”
“Tricky.” She sat on the couch and pulled on her boot.
My eyebrow jacked, and I smiled at her. “Oh?”
“Don’t oh me,” Rose huffed. “It’s nothing.”
“It must be something if it’s got you up before ten.” I gave her a look and took a sip of my coffee.
She shoved her other foot into her boot. “I’m not equipped to talk about it without coffee.”
“There’s some in the pot.”
“No time.” She grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door.
“Well, take a nap when you get home because I need you on your game. Blane Baker is happening tonight!”
Rose pulled on her jacket and shook her head, her voice gruff. “You sound awfully excited about it.”
“Well, this is the last shot, and I’m feeling really good about it. I’m getting on the bicycle one more time, and I have a feeling it’s going to be the smoothest ride yet.”
“I’m just saying. I expected a little more skepticism.”
“I’m not walking into it blind, and I’ll admit that the whole thing has made me a little crazy.”
Rose snorted.
I perked up, not letting her get to me. “But today’s a new day, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one. I even got a Brazilian yesterday, just in case.”
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Hot wax to the lady bits for Blane Baker? He’d better appreciate that.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Full and complete lady cave commemoration.”
She laughed and opened the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, then,” I said, only slightly wounded when she shut the door without responding or asking me to join her, but my smile crept back again. Rose would rather wax her own cooch than get up at eight in the morning.
Wuss.
West
I shredded the paper napkin, dropping the strips in a pile on the diner table as Patrick and I waited for Rose in silence. Genie’s was our favorite diner, a chain of only three that started in Hell’s Kitchen, and they made the best malts I’d ever had. This one was on Broadway, just down the block from our apartment, and we were there nearly as much as Habits.
Patrick and I had spent the night drinking until we passed out. Lily’s name was on my lips when I drifted away, and her face filled my thoughts the second I woke. I checked my phone that morning to find texts to Rose, all vague, in part for all the typos. It was a pretty weak cloak and dagger operation. I only asked her to meet us at the diner at eight and to not tell Lily I would be there. She told me to kindly go to hell. So I told her, very simply, that it was important and that I needed her help. She couldn’t say no to that.
My coffee sat in front of me untouched. I’d realized as soon as I’d ordered it that the last thing my nerves needed was caffeine.
Patrick sat across from me, back against the window ledge, watching me with concern. “It’s going to work out.”
I sighed. “I’m sure, one way or another.”
The bell on the door rang, and we turned toward the sound to find Rose walking in. She looked tired and definitely annoyed, though somehow still together. A little scary, but together. I couldn’t help but smile. Patrick looked like he’d been slapped.
Her eyes were narrowed as she slid into the booth next to Patrick. The waitress appeared out of nowhere and opened her mouth to speak.
Rose didn’t even acknowledge her, just grumbled, “Coffee.”
The waitress rolled her eyes and walked away.
“This better be good, you shits. This is the face of four hours of sleep. Take a good look, because if you see this again, it might mean you’re at the threshold of hell.”
Patrick turned in the booth and leaned on the table, gesturing to me. “Go ahead, Romeo.”
Somehow, Rose’s eyes narrowed even more as she stared me down.
I leaned on the table and took a deep breath, knowing there was only one way to say it. I met her gaze. “I think I’m in love with Lily.”
Her eyes flew open. “You what?”
I nodded. “I realized it last night at the opera.”
She dragged a hand through her dark hair and pulled in a breath, blowing it out through her nose. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Everything. It hit me when I came to pick her up, but I think it had been coming for days. Maybe longer.”
Rose gaped at me. “I can’t believe you realized this right now. Bad timing, West.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
She leaned back and folded her arms. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know how to handle this, Rose. I need your help.”
Something in my voice must have reached her because her face softened. “If you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you to go over there right now to talk to her about it. But I just left her singing her high hopes about Blane and tonight.”
My eyes were on my coffee as I struggled with what to say.
The waitress brought Rose her coffee. “Thank you,” she said, relieved and smiling, and the waitress seemed placated, smiling back with a nod. “If you tell her right now, she’s going to flip out, and she’s got rehearsal all day and a show tonight. Can you wait to talk to her about all of this until tomorrow night? Noir will be behind us, and she’ll have all day off work on Monday to process.”
“It’s going to be hard to get through tonight with the two of them, but if it’s what I have to do, then I’ll do it.”
Rose reached for the sugar and poured it in with a brief hiss. She picked up her spoon. “Honestly, I’m kind of hoping Blane just lets his bro show so Lily will finally write him off for good. Here’s the thing — she thinks she cares about him, and I think he’s throwing off her radar by pretending to give a shit. He’s trying to hang on to her for some reason, but I don’t know what his angle is. Maybe he doesn’t have one.” Rose sighed and picked up her cup. “The whole thing is fucked up. What I do know is that if you talk to her right now, she’s not going to know what to say. If you wait until Blane blows over, your chances will be better.” She took a sip of her coffee.
“So you think I should tell her?”
Rose nodded. “I definitely think you should tell her.”
“That’s what Patrick said too.”
Patrick looked pleased with himself.
“Well, he’s right. You may only have one decent shot at this, but you shouldn’t take it until she’s ready.”
“I’m putting all my hope in Blane making a fool out of himself. What if he’s not a douchelord tonight? What if she really ends up falling for him? What if I miss the chance all together?”
She reached for my hand. “Listen, you’re not going to miss anything. There’s too much going on right now to drop this on her too. Things will slow down, and even if she’s still seeing Blane, that doesn’t mean you can’t tell her how you feel. For now, I just think you need to wait and see.”
My voice was thick. “How can I pretend?”
“You don’t have to put yourself through tonight. Just stay home. You can talk to her tomorrow night.”
I shook my head. “I have to go. I need to go.”
She nodded. “Then you need to pretend, just for a night.”
My only other question burned in my throat — the same one that had plagued me since
I’d realized how I felt. “Do you think I have a chance?”
Rose smiled. “Oh, I definitely think you have a chance.”
The relief was palpable, hope that I needed to fortify my willpower. “Thank you, Rose.”
“You’re welcome. Now feed me bacon, Weston, before shit gets real.”
Lily
The crowd roared as I bowed again, barely able to see the faces beyond the stage lights. It was a feeling that we all lived for — standing on the stage, listening to the thunderous applause for all of your hard work. That high was the cherry on the sundae, the reward for the pain, the grueling rehearsals, the stress and sacrifice. None of it mattered in that moment.
We made our way off stage, and I hurried to my bag, stuffing everything in unceremoniously. The crew bustled behind me, but I barely noticed, just grabbed my flats and tossed them on the ground with a smack, reaching for my ankle to untie my shoes, then the other. I was an absolute whirl — in a hurry to get to my changing room so I could get home.
Jenni walked up, stopping next to me at her own bag, grinning. “God, I love Serenade. I think it might be my favorite.”
I laughed and stuffed my shoes in the bag. “You say that about every show.”
“Ugh, I know. Congrats, by the way — your Waltz Girl was perfect tonight. Just perfect.”
“Thank you,” I beamed as I stood and picked up my bag.
Her smiled faded, brow dropping as she leaned toward me. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you, Lil—”
Anxiety blew through me at the thought of being delayed even for a second. Everyone was waiting on me to get home, and I still had a million things to do. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m so sorry, it’s just that I have plans tonight, and everyone’s waiting on me.”
She smiled, but she was definitely disappointed, and there was something else there … guilt? I was curious, but I couldn’t linger.
“Of course. We’ll talk tomorrow for sure.”
