Page 54 of A Certain Step
When it was her turn to sing, she cupped his cheek, thankful that Elizabeth did this because Willa might’ve done it instinctually.
“I thought only of you,” Darcy spoke.
Elizabeth smiled. “You’re quite the wordsmith when you want to be.”
“It was all for you,” he reiterated, drawing closer to her. He traced his fingers along her arms and then tipped her. Elizabeth was meant to laugh, but where she began, and Willa ended, Willa couldn’t say, not at this moment. And when his lips met hers with a more tender touch than before, she willed herself to focus solely on the characters.
They could giggle together. He could carry her in his arms and spin her because none of that was new to them. It was familiar and comfortable enough to play off their friendship and give the characters a happy ending. She shouldn’t have feared this number, thankful that he didn’t try to kiss her again, keeping his promise to tame some of the fire he and Naomi kept up.
When Sam and Sahar joined in as Bingley and Jane, the warmth in the air grew tenfold. The laughter doubled before the track continued.
Darcy wrapped his arms around Elizabeth from behind and kissed her cheek gently. Willa couldn’t process the softness—the delicacy of his mouth along her face. She leaned further back as she sang. He spun her once, twice, then pulled her back into him for a tight hug. After parting, she smiled in his arms, peered up at him, and drew his hands up to her lips.
As they neared the bows after the “Midnights at Pemberley Reprise,” reality started to set. Backstage, hearing the music and audience cheers blend, every other noise reduced to a murmur. The standing ovation was a sign that they’d done their jobs right.
She turned to Ethan, his smile bold and bright as he extended his hand out for her to take. They presented each other, took their final bows, and walked off the stage together. They stopped at the end of the passageway. The entire cast also took a moment to clap and cheer loudly. Conversations and laughter muffled together and spun into a spectacular array of light she couldn’t fully process.
He pulled her in for a hug, and she held on like her life hinged on it. For a split second, the world around them faded away. She felt his head angle toward her temple, a barely there whisper uttering, “Wait for me in your dressing room?”
She parted from him and nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway.
17
ETHAN
His lips had trailed along Willa’s neck, and his hands had grazed her thigh, albeit covered in three layers of pantyhose, but still.The kisses—each one, in their distinct way, had wrecked him to a state of no return. During intermission, he had bolted to his dressing room, catapulted himself against the small couch, and tried to catch his breath.
She had to feel the same way. He couldn’t be the only one whose entire being felt like it’d been shoved into an inferno.
Ethan had kissed countless co-stars before, but it never did anything for him. None had converted every cell in his body into blazing embers.
It couldn’t have been Elizabeth responding to Darcy’s fiercely misplaced kiss. It surely wasn’t the heat of the number. It also wasn’t Elizabeth finally accepting Darcy’s offer and realizing how deeply he loved her.
It couldn’t have been.
It was Willa opening her lips for Ethan. It had to be. He desperately hoped that he was right.
He couldn’t hold back anymore and continue fighting against the relentless emotions keeping him up every night. He couldn’t come into work the next few days and put on a show while hiding the fact that he was longing for her. Ethan couldn’t be selfless here—he was too fragile for that, a shell of himself brought down by the force of feelings demanding all his attention. He was too far gone.
He had to try.
He had to be honest with her.
He had to begherto try.
He had to know how she felt.
She did owe him for the standing ovations he was sure she’d get. Maybe this could be it. A chance. An honest conversation, if nothing else.
Ethan’s feelings were clearer than the sky after a dreadful storm. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life than the way he felt about Willa.
While changing out of Darcy’s clothes into jeans and a grey T-shirt, he debated switching out his contact lenses but decided against it to save time. He’d do that at home.
He wasn’t even sure how he’d say it. What could he possibly do to get her to talk to him?
He closed his dressing room door and walked toward Willa and Sahar’s, knocking quietly.
“Come in,” he heard Sahar say.
