Page 115 of The Facade

But not seeming to have any of the same concerns that I had, Miss Crawley patted my arm and said, “Asher is going to do amazing. I know you’re new, and so you weren’t here last year to watch him play Jean Valjean in our production ofLes Miserables, but he is one of those rare talents that a teacher sees only once or twice in her career.”

A rare talent? That was pretty big praise.

“So he’s really good?” I asked.

“He’ll be great,” she said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I noticed, though, that despite Miss Crawley’s high praise of this Asher guy, Nash seemed to be having an entirely different reaction to this news that Asher would be returning to the stage at Eden Falls Academy.

Miss Crawley stepped away to speak with a few other students who would be participating in the play. I looked at Nash, who was still glaring at Asher’s name, and asked, “Is there something wrong with Asher that Miss Crawley isn’t telling me?”

Nash pulled his gaze from the cast list and sighed. “He’s—” He shook his head. “Let’s just say that Asher and I have never really been friends.”

So was it a competitive thing?

Nash glanced around at the students around us, and in a lower voice, he said, “I would just be careful working with him. Sure, he’stalented.” He said the wordtalentedlike it caused him physical pain to admit it. “But Asher doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being a good guy.”

Bonus Epilogue

Cambrielle

FOUR YEARS LATER

“Someone smells good,”Mack whispered in my ear after stepping up behind me in the kitchen. It was late February, and I was standing in the kitchen of our New York City condo, pouring a splash of creamer into my morning coffee. “Is that a new body wash?”

“New shampoo,” I said, turning around in his arms to look at him. He was already dressed in his suit and tie—the uniform his basketball coach at Columbia University had him and his teammates wear for their game days. “So you like it?”

“I do.” He nodded and sniffed my hair again. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I start using it, too.”

“You always do end up liking my shampoo more than yours.” I laughed and carried my mug over to the little breakfast nook by the windows.

“What can I say?” He shrugged one of his broad shoulders before switching on the stove to cook his eggs. “You’re my hero, and I want to be just like you.” He shot me a wink.

“As much as I love being your hero, somehow I think it’s better that you keep on being yourself.” I winked back, knowing he was joking. “You stick with basketball, and I’ll stick with dance.”

“Okay, fine.”

He grabbed the carton of eggs from the fridge and cracked six eggs in a bowl—yes, this six-foot-five fiancé of mine would have eaten us out of house and home a long time ago if his full-ride scholarship didn’t help with expenses.

Okay, and yeah, if my parents hadn’t been so awesome to let us live in their New York City condo for a fraction of what they could have charged, we would be in trouble.

But such was the life of a Juilliard student and a Columbia student, making their way in the big city.

When I’d quit ballet after my freshman year of high school, I thought for sure that I’d never fulfill my childhood dream of working for a dance company, or even having a shot at going to Juilliard.

But everything changed after I played Meg Giry inThe Phantom of the Opera. A part of me that I’d let languish as I worked on my body image came back to life, and after that small success on the stage, I started lessons again so I could be ready to audition for the elite performing arts school.

I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. I didn’t have a full-ride scholarship like Mack had for basketball at Columbia, but I had gotten in. I got to spend my days in the dance studio with professional ballet instructors who I looked up to, and I got to perform for audiences on a regular basis.

Once I was finished with my classes for the day, I got to come home to this little corner of the world I now calledhomeand spend my free time with the guy I’d been in love with for half of my life.

I looked down at the diamond ring on my left hand, admiring the way it sparkled in the sunlight that was hitting it just right. It was so beautiful, and I couldn’t help but smile at it every time I looked at it because of what it symbolized—a commitment to a lifelong bond with the man I loved more than anyone or anything else in the world.

Mack joined me at the table with his eggs and green smoothie.

“I did a good job, didn’t I?” he asked, glancing at the ring he’d given me when he asked me this past fall to marry him.

“You totally did,” I said. Then giving him a playful smirk, I added, “You did a very good job at following the advice your sisters gave you.”

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