Page 36 of Holiday Intercepted
Epilogue
Paige
Christmas Eve, One Year Later…
Acar horn blared as Taylor gripped my hand, tugging me across the street. He was practically running there and I was struggling to keep up because he was so fast, even though he had told me to dress warm and comfortable. “Good Lord, Taylor. The tree lighting isn’t goinganywhere!”
“We need to be there before seven,” he said, his breathhuffing.
I gripped Maisey’s leash tighter, and she happily trotted beside us as I glanced at my phone for the time. It was only 6:53 p.m., and we were across the street from the Maple Grove tree lighting. What in the heck was he freaking outabout?
Geez, he was in a mood. The whole drive up here, he’d been grumpy, nervous, and fidgety. Christmas usually made people jolly, but not my Taylor. This holiday seemed to be bringing out the worst in him. Although, the last two hours aside, we’d had a pretty amazing year together. We moved in together in June after I took the job at the theater. I played a small role inMidsummer Night’s Dreamand then this fall, I was cast as the lead inHedda Gabbler.Hedda-Freaking-Gabbler. It was a dream come true. I didn’t think I’d ever earn my living as an actress and yet, here I was. And even though I hated admitting it, I don’t think it would have happened withoutTaylor.
He slowed down and for the first time since we got out of the car and started walking. He seemed to relax. He grabbed his phone, punching in a text, then let out a deep sigh that sounded vaguelyrelieved.
As we drew nearer to the tree lighting, I noticed a stage set up. It wasn’t overly large—the sort of temporary stage you see at outdoor concerts. The tree was in the center of the stage. A large crowd of people were already seated, and I scanned the crowd waving at Kyra, Yvonne, and a handful of other friends and old neighbors. On the right side of the theater, a large group of my former students sat, beaming and waving at me. “What is goingon—?”
“Come on,” Taylor said, taking my hand and dragging me toward the front. “Taylor, we’re the last ones here. There’s no way there’s going to be a seat upfront—”
I froze, turning into the front row where my brother sat a few seats in. Beside him, there were three seats reserved for Taylor, Maisey, and me with blankets and steaming to-go cups of hot chocolate waiting for us. My brows dipped. “What is allthis?”
Taylor grinned, and for the first time since we left Boston, I watched the tension fade from his face and be replaced with something entirely different. Nerves. And excitement. “Merry Christmas,Paige.”
He bent, lifting the hot chocolate and placing it in my hands. Then, he wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and kissed me on the nose. Maisey jumped onto the chair beside us and Taylor handed me a program that read “The Boston Ballet Company PresentsThe Nutcracker {Abridged}”.
A lump formed in my throat. “Boston Ballet? I-I don’tunderstand.”
“Your mother’s dance company,” Taylorsaid.
“Yeah, I know that.But—”
“You said last year how you wished more than anything you could bring your students to see a production like this one. Like the one you watched your mother star in longago.”
I did say that. But this was… elaborate. Even for Taylor. “Did you seriously arrange for my mother’s dance company to perform for all my paststudents?”
He smiled and I loved the small wrinkles that formed around hiseyes.
“Well, I couldn’t bring all your students to Boston… but I was able to call in a favor. And it turns out, the director of the ballet company remembered your mom. I guess he was one of the dancers in that production she filled infor.”
I blinked back tears as Taylor leaned over, opening the program for me. On the first page was a picture of my mother in an arabesque as Clara with a caption below it, dedicating tonight’s performance toher.
I hadn’t seenThe Nutcrackerin years. Not since I was little and my mom took Scott and me. I couldn’t bring myself to go without her. Tears burned hot against my closed eyelids and I sniffled, opening them again as a single tear fell onto the open program, landing on my mom’s face. She was here with me. I couldfeelherhere.
I took my seat, swiping at a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. Scott leaned over to quickly take myhand.
A man stepped onto the stage, microphone in hand. “Thank you so much for having us here tonight. I’m Shawn Preston, President of Boston Ballet. I’m not going to lie… I was hesitant when I first received a message a few months ago from the Patriots Tight End, Mr. Taylor Wilson, asking my company to do a one-night show in this little town of Maple Grove. First of all, I didn’t know football players even knew ballerinas existed.” A low rumble of chuckles rolled through theaudience.
“But then, I realized… Maple Grove. I’d heard of that town before. One of Boston Ballet’s star dancers moved there many, many years ago. I watched her fill in flawlessly twenty-seven years ago as our Clara. And sure enough, when he told me it was for his girlfriend—Paige Williams, I knew immediately. Victoria Williams. Our Vicki. Or should I say… ourClara.”
His gaze fell to me in the front row and I didn’t bother wiping away my tears anymore. They were coming too fast. Silently streaming down my cold cheeks. “I haven’t seen you two in years,” he said glancing between Scott and me. “The last time was when you were maybe four and your mom played Clara for us one last time in a pinch because our prima ballerina hurt her ankle on preview night. I hope we can make tonight just as magical for you. For all ofyou.”
He stepped aside, and looked at Taylor, giving a little nod. I felt, rather than heard Taylor’s deep exhale and he stood, climbing the stairs to centerstage.
What was he doing? My heart fluttered as he turned, taking the microphone and faced me. “Most of you know I play for the Patriots. I’m constantly surrounded by testosterone. Sports. Balls—no pun intended. I hear all kinds of talk from my teammates about the holidays and their families. I even hear some of them complain about their in-laws. It’s like a running joke—who has the worst in-laws.” He paused, pressing his lips together and tucking his four fingers into his front pocket. I smiled at the action because it was so adorable. It was a nervous tick he had, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. And I loved that I was only one of a few people who knew that abouthim.
“I just have to shake my head when I hear that. Don’t they know how lucky they are? They get to meet, to hug, to shake the hands of the people who created the person they love most in the world.” His crystal blue eyes connected to mine and his voice cracked. “Neither of us will get to know our future mothers-in-law. I’ll never get to dance with my mom at my wedding. You’ll never get to shop for your wedding gown with yours. But I feel like Iknowyour mom, despite never officially being introduced as your boyfriend. I know your mom even though I haven’t spoken to her in well over thirteen years. I see her in the kindness you show to strangers—a testament to how you were raised. I see her in the way you add a pinch of nutmeg to your coffee, just like she taught you to do. I see her in your love of the arts and the way you nurture that love in other kids and students. The same way she nurtured it inyou.”
I stood, walking toward the steps to the stage, unable to sit any longer. Unable to be benched and on the sidelines of this. I needed to be in front of him. I needed to touch him. To holdhim.
