Page 129 of The Unraveling

I smile at the one of Sylvie and me, then the one of Mimi and me.

Then I pull out Jordan’s picture. The two of us kissing, full rom-com style.

And then I pull out the picture of my mom and me.

It’s after my first show with NAB. She looks so proud. I’m smiling, but she is glowing. I look at it now and feel ashamed of my behavior. She was just doing the best she knew how. I grab a piece of tape and I put it up on the mirror. It’s the only one I’m putting up tonight. This show is for her.

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The show is a dream. It doesn’t top the studio run-through on Saturday, but it’s up there. I receive a standing ovation and numerous bouquets of flowers. When I bring the conductor onstage for his bow, I finally have a chance to glance at all the flowers I’m holding. I can see on one tag a simple For you—Jordan.

I smile and take a few more bows and curtain calls before finally the audience have exhausted themselves. And the curtain closes for the night.

I feel exhilarated. My skin is damp with sweat, my muscles are on fire. I started the day at such a deficit, but somehow I managed to push through to where I am now.

My heart almost stops when I see Sarika and Charlie walking out from the wings. Fuck. Is it going to happen now? Is my reprieve over?

Sarika comes up to me and shakes her head, smiling, saying, “You were brilliant. Absolutely mesmerizing.”

Charlie smiles, too. “Well done.”

I laugh, relieved, and say, “Thank you so much. Thank you.”

I wait for them to add that, of course, I am fired. But they say nothing.

A bit confused, I excuse myself and move past them, rushing to the dressing room. I wait impatiently as my dresser undresses me, then I reach into my bag and pull out my phone.

There’s the text I was hoping for from Jordan as soon as I saw the flowers. I had checked after act one and act two and there wasn’t anything. Fucking finally. I smile.

You were amazing. Hope it’s okay I got a ticket at the last minute and was able to watch the show…I’ll be in front of the theater when you’re through.

I start laughing as I read the text. He came. He fucking came.

Tears start to come, and I wipe them away.

I hurry to get ready, cleaning off my makeup and throwing on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a big, thick turtleneck sweater.

I put my hand on my excited heart and then run through the hallways. I avoid the backstage exit and take a shortcut to the front through the door to the lobby and see him.

I don’t even think about it, I don’t even hesitate before pushing open the doors and running up to him and just throwing my arms around him.

I know it’s the wrong thing to do. I know he doesn’t know everything that’s been going on. But I can’t help it.

Thank god, he doesn’t shrug out of my embrace or pat me awkwardly. He hugs me back. A little stiffly at first, then I feel his body relax against mine.

I breathe him in, the scent of him, the warmth of him. I miss him so much. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him.

It’s so clear to me in that moment that I have never, not for one second, stopped loving him.

Finally, we break away from each other.

“Do you know where you want to go?” he asks.

“Let’s go to Bluebell.”

Bluebell is a quaint little pub right around the corner from our—his—apartment.

We go outside, the balmy spring air damp against my cheeks, and we catch a passing cab.

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