Page 54 of If This Was a Movie

Yesterday, I was out the door to the center early, hosting an adult workout class before spending the morning setting up the stage and making sure everything was ready for our Tuesday recital so I could get back to the house to get Sophie off the bus in time, not because her dad couldn’t get there, but because I knew I’d miss her if I didn’t.

When Nate came home, I was back here for the final rehearsal, and even though I didn’t go to the main house after practice, there was a wrapped plate in the microwave and a sticky note on the top reading,In case you didn’t eat. -N.

“To be fair, he kissed me.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you didn’t kiss him back?”

I guess I can’t tell her that, can I?

“It was because Sophie was watching,” I lie terribly.

“And the second time?” Ava asks, because I’m an idiot and told her about how he walked me to the cottage, pinned me to the wall, and almost made me come right then and there.

“I…” I start then groan, letting my head drop into my hands. “I don’t know! I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, Miss Jules,” Gina, one of the teenage dancers, says, coming over and patting my shoulder. “We all fall victim to hot guys scrambling our brains once in a while.”

“And Nate Donovan will definitely scramble anyone’s brains,” another says.

I turn to her and glare. “What do you know about Nate Donovan, Chrissy? You’re fifteen!”

“I know that when he came to renovate our kitchen last summer, my mom kept putting on her tiniest bikini, and she and my dad fought a lot at night once he left.” Well, that would do it. “And I know he’s hot. Like the surface of the sun hot. He was wearing this really tight T-shirt that was all sweaty and?—”

“Again, you are fifteen, Chrissy,” I shout.

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” Mrs. Johnson says with a laugh, and I glare at her, too. She’s one of the moms who offered to help get everyone ready since Claire is gone, and I was grateful at the time. But now that she’s hearing this…? “What? Everyone knows about Nate Donovan. He was a year or two under me in high school, but he’s a Donovan, you know? When I was her age, I was drooling over his dad, but now that Nate’s older?” She shrugs. “You’re an idiot not to go for that. Plus, his family is the sweetest.”

That part I couldn’t deny, as I’ve had calls from all three of his sisters over the last few days, checking in and offering any help they could. Sutton is over in the other room helping Harper as we speak, just because Claire told her I might need an extra hand.

“Ten minutes,” the stagehand says, popping his head into the dressing room, and I sigh with relief.

“All right, enough about that. Who needs last-minute help?” I say to the room at large. A hand pops up on the other side of the room, and I gratefully take the excuse to move out of the way and away from my friends while we finish the final touches.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the stage of the community center, lights nearly blinding me.

“Thank you all for coming,” I say. Even now, when it’s no longer my performance, I get butterflies up here, ready to show off all the hard work these kids did. I’m even more excited to see it’s a totally packed house.

I give my normal thank you speech, thanking everyone who came to see the kids, the parents and guardians who took the kids to every rehearsal, the volunteers, and the center for hosting us before I remind the crowd of the courtesy standards.

And as the lights go down and I prepare to step back into the wings of the stage, pushing the kids out, I see him. Front and center, with Sophie right next to him, a brown paper bag at his feet and a wide, proud smile on his lips.

Nate came.

“You guys did amazing!” I shout for the millionth time, absolutely giddy as the kids start to pack up and head out with wide, exhausted smiles on their faces. “I can’t believe how perfect you were. I’m so proud,” I say, putting an arm around one of the older girls and pulling her in tight. This is my favorite part of a performance: congratulating my kids and seeing the tired pride all over them.

“Miss, Jules, there’s some people here for you,” one of the girls says as I help one of the stragglers pack up their bags. Most of the kids have gone off to their parents, flowers in hand and big smiles on their faces. I’ll come back tomorrow and do the big cleanup, but at the very least, I like to make sure all of the kids’ stuff is packed up after a performance.

“What?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the door, but I don’t have to ask another question.

There are six people standing in the doorway of the break room, four of whom I’ve met, and the other two I can guess. My heart skips a beat.

The Donovans are all here, except Claire.

Sophie runs to me with a big smile, and I’m barely able to stand up straight before she’s barreling into me, knocking me back on one foot before I lift her, settling her on my hip as she starts to ramble, holding on tight.

“That was amazing!” she yells into my ear as if we’re not inches apart. “I want to dance. Can you teach me? Please, please, pleaseeee!”

I laugh at her exuberance, pushing stray strands behind her ears as I smile.

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