Page 132 of Rebel Romeo

I wipe my fingers across the edge of my lips and grab a makeup wipe from my table, taking off as much of all my makeup as I can. I meet Holden’s gaze in the mirror. “You two have never made it for a visit before.”

Dad’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a frown. “Things change. Priorities change.”

Especially when you’re dying. His unspoken words dangle unsaid between us. I gulp against the golf ball sized lump in my throat.

“We weren’t about to miss your Broadway debut,” Mom adds.

“Who’s watching the bar?” I ask.

“Mallory,” Mom says.

“Well, we’re always closed Mondays, as you know. And we decided to close for lunch service while we’re here,” Dad adds. “But Mallory is going to run the place for the evenings. And the new chef we have in the back is so good, I’m barely needed there most days anymore.”

A soft smile graces my face. “Good. How long are you staying?” I finish swiping the makeup wipe over my eyelids, then toss it into the trash beside me.

“We head home on Thursday morning.” My heart drops just the tiniest bit. They’ll miss our opening night. “We didn’t want Mallory to have to deal with the weekend rush alone.”

I nod, still grateful that they’re here at all. They can still see the preview show. It’s more effort than they’ve ever made in the past.

“I’m really, really glad you’re here,” I say, genuinely.

“Us, too,” Dad responds. His voice is raspier than usual. Strained, like speaking is a challenge. Concern tickles the edge of my happiness, but I push it away. We need to enjoy the time we have left. And pray for a miracle.

“C’mon, hun,” Mom says, tugging on Dad’s arm. Let’s wait out in the theater to let them finish getting ready.”

Dad seems reluctant, hesitating with a final glance at Holden before he lets my mom drag him out of my dressing room.

I drop into my makeup chair, completely dismayed. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He winces. “Are you mad?”

I freeze, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “Mad? You think I’d be mad?” I push the chair back and rush to him, throwing my arms around his neck. “It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.”

He exhales a sigh of relief against my neck. “Anything. Anytime.”

I spend every minute for the next two days outside of rehearsal sight-seeing with my folks. Jill joins us for lunch and even though I’m dying for them to see our dress rehearsal, I push it off until Wednesday night because I’m so nervous.

But now that Wednesday is here, I’m realizing the flaw in my plan. Now, my parents are seeing the show on the same night reviewers will be here.

And I’m a total basket case.

That afternoon, my mom went out shopping for gifts for Mallory and the grandkids while my dad and I opted to stay at the apartment. We put on a movie and while he rested while I tried to relax my frayed nerves with a face mask.

We only have about an hour before we have to head to the theater for the preview night performance.

“Sean Connery,” he rasps, pointing at the tv. “Best Bond there ever was.”

I shake my head with a snort. “Are you kidding? Daniel Craig nailed it.”

He doesn’t argue with me outside of his quiet harumph, so with a little smile, I take it as a win and try to secretly glance at him through the sides of my eyes. He’s even paler today than he was when they arrived Sunday night, like the trip is taking it out of him. Dark circles frame his usually bright eyes.

He used to be so active, but now, the walk from the subway to the theater leaves him winded.

“You would make a great Money Penny,” Dad says.

His statement is so out of the blue, so startling that I jerk around to look at him, mouth agape.

“Don’t look so damn surprised.” He shrugs. “You would.”

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