Page 28 of If Ever

"Sorry, love."

I don't respond, and I have a feeling he's still looking at my behind, but he called me love again, which makes my pulse race.

The next day during dress rehearsal I mess up at the beginning of the number and can't pull it together no matter how much coaching Dominic offers. We only get the one shot at dress rehearsal, so I'm left obsessing over my mistakes. Plus it's in front of a guy with a gorgeous smile and delicious accent who flew across the country to sing.

The confidence I built up yesterday is out the window. I hide in my trailer. Even the idea of drinking bourbon with Hank isn't enough to pull me out. By the time I report to the ballroom for show time, I've got myself so worked up that I want to vomit. I love this dance so much and thought tonight I might be able to stay in the show on my own merit. Enough people have been voted off, and I've been lucky to make it this far, but now I'm on the chopping block and everyone knows it.

Dominic spots me from across the room and beelines over. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry, I just needed some space to get my head together." I rub my arms, my gaze darting anywhere and everywhere.

"Did it work?"

"Not so much."

The audience is ready and suddenly it's all lights, camera, action. I give the obligatory smiles through the introductions, and then hang out in the skybox as the other couples perform. Each one is better than the next. Hank and Sonya do another really cute number. This time they are the turtle and the hare, and it's hilarious. Odds of me beating the seventy-three year old country singer aren't looking good.

Finally Dominic and I are called to the stage for the pre-commercial promo. My nerves are wound tight.

Tom, who I haven't seen since my abysmal dress rehearsal, joins us decked out in a black dress shirt, slacks, and a jacket that fit him to perfection. Combined with his blond hair and easy smile, it's difficult not to stare. "You look great," I say, happy for the distraction.

"Thanks. You look lovely," he takes in my willowy white dress and artfully applied stage makeup, and I'm thankful for Mary Kay's skills. He notices my nervous hands. "Are you trembling?"

"A little." I hold up a hand and it's shaking like I have the palsy. I take quick breaths as my stomach churns. Dominic massages my shoulders but it does nothing to calm me.

"Is she always this nervous before a performance," Tom asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Dominic sighs. "Nope, this is new."

Just then the director cues a camera on us and the announcer says, "Stay tuned. After the break we have Chelsea and Dominic doing a contemporary dance accompanied by the Tony nominated Thomas Evan Oliver.

"Do you think anyone would notice if I quick went out for ice cream?" I ask, desperate to escape.

"I've got a car outside, want a ride?" Tom offers, but I see the teasing in his eyes.

I hug myself and tuck my hands under my arms. Now I'm making Dominic nervous. He gets up in my face.

"Come on, Chelsea, look at me. We're going to shake it off. Bounce with me." And he bounces on his toes, shaking his arms loose.

I give it a shot, but feel stiff as a board. Then Tom joins in, bouncing.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"You aren't the only person who gets nervous."

He is adorable in his pristine suit, bouncing up and down. I can't help but crack a smile.

Larry gives us the sign and we take our places. The announcer's voice booms overhead. "Welcome back. Let's take a peek at how Chelsea came up with her song choice for tonight's dance."

The video package of our prep for the number begins. I expected it to be about all my failed lifts or for sure when my foot brought Dominic to his knees. Instead it shows us sitting on the rehearsal room floor and Dominic asking if I wanted to talk about why this song means so much to me and me saying, "No, I really don't."

But then for some reason I went ahead and told him, explaining that it reminds me of my parents' divorce when I was six, and my father's permanent move to France. I talk of my mother battling cancer for two years before her devastating death when I was fourteen, and how my own father wouldn't take me in after she died. He'd started a new family in Europe that didn't include me.

I stare at the monitor and watch myself explain how I tried to be perfect so my father would want me, but he still didn't. In the end I begged him to stay, but he walked out anyway. He left me behind in the U.S., a minor with no passport, and no way to follow him. I go on to tell the world how I moved in with my sick grandfather and took care of him until his death, and then lived out of his car.

I watch myself say all of this in a very matter of fact manner, but in reality, as I stand here in the middle of an empty dance floor with my soul bared to the world, my heart is breaking all over again.

On the video, I continue. "When I first discovered this song,"Stay,” I felt it was written about me, and the way the artist sings it holds so much pain. It's as if he was singing my pain."

---