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
