Harry sat back, his eyes drawn under the tight line of his eyebrows. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say something only to clamp his lips down against it. He studied her through the camera and it felt like he was really seeing her for the first time that evening.
“I love you, Harrison Moore,” she said. “I really fucking love you.”
“I really fucking love you, too.” There was still a parade of mixed emotions tangling up his face.
“I know they say that if you love something, to set it free, but if that’s what you’re trying to do here, I will hunt you down and knock some sense into your stupid ass. I don’t want to be free of you.” Willow shook her head and closed her eyes. “I want to be free of this,” she said, flaring her fingers and looking around her cramped apartment. “So I can be free to be with you.”
“Really?” he asked. “Do you really mean that?”
“With my entire heart.”
All the worry from Harry’s face washed away in an instant. “Good.”
Willow sucked in a deep breath. “You were going to do it, weren’t you? Leave me because you thought I’d be better off without you.”
Harry lowered his eyes. “All that matters to me is your happiness.”
“I’d punch you if you were here, you know that?” She waited for him to look up so he could see how much she meant what she was about to say. “If you really want to make me happy, then you better prepare yourself to spend a whole lot more time with me. Like years and years and years of time with me.”
“I think I can handle that.” A slow smile stretched the corners of Harry’s lips and he started fiddling with whatever it was he had just far enough offscreen so she couldn’t see.
“Good. You still coming up this weekend? You know, to be with me while I debut in the most important role of my life?” As excited as she was for the curtain to go up on Romeo and Juliet, she was even more excited to know he would be in the audience when it happened.
Harry nodded and all the chaos that had been in his eyes started to recede. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Willow
Willow sat in front of the wall of lighted mirrors and smiled through the reflection at the woman doing her hair. The role of Juliet required an intricate set of braids woven into her bun and that meant she had to spend more time in hair and makeup than she was used to. Warmup class had gone well, despite the nerves and excitement jangling in her system. Not only was she about to debut as Juliet—a role she had dreamed about her whole life—but Harry’s flight had landed an hour ago and he’d sent her a string of happy texts while she was warming up.
Just knowing they were in the same city had done amazing things to her mood. Knowing that he was at her apartment, moving around in her space, getting ready to come see her perform was exhilarating. Ever since their awful conversation a couple days before—the awful conversation that might have actually ended up being wonderful, she still wasn’t sure—she’d been desperate to see him.
She needed to touch him and make sure he really heard what she was saying. She needed to look into his eyes and be confident he understood that leaving her wouldn’t make her happy. That she’d shatter into a million pieces without him. That her heart was forever bound to him, and as long as they were together she’d be okay, but that if he left, it would destroy her.
Part of her still worried that Harry believed she’d be better off without him. Being the kind of guy he was, the kind of man who would put her needs above his own day in and day out, she knew if he decided she’d be happier without him, then he would leave. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him, look him in the eyes, and show him how much better she was with him.
She had accomplished what she wanted to accomplish and couldn’t think of a better way to go out than on the high of finally performing her dream role. That night, after the ballet, after she looked into his eyes and made sure he knew that she was for him and he was for her and there was no other way for their story to end—then she would tell him she wanted to finish the season and move to Bliss to be with him, if he would have her.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t help herself. That’s what Harry did to her. He kept a smile on her face at all times, for no good reason other than the fact that he was in her life.
The hairdresser caught her eyes through the glass. “Excited?”
“Very.” She didn’t go on to explain the ins and outs of why. She didn’t share that she was more worked up about her evening with Harry than she was about the ballet. That was her own private happiness and she didn’t feel like sharing.
“You’re going to be great. Everyone says you’re built for this role.”
Willow thanked her and closed her eyes, spending the rest of her time in the chair doing her best to put Harry out of her mind while she visualized her performance. She slipped in a pair of earbuds and listened to the music she already knew by heart, thanks to a lifetime of listening and months of rehearsal—Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.
She imagined herself doing the choreography as perfectly as anyone she’d ever seen. Imagined Juliet’s feelings into existence and claimed them as her own. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts kept returning to the first night she spent at Harry’s,
