Page 121 of Valentine Nook
“It’s Marcy. She might have theater news. I should get it.”
I glance at the clock. “What time is it where she is?”
“She gets up super early. Or goes to bed late.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me? From the little I’ve seen and what Holiday’s told me about her, it doesn’t seem like the woman sleeps.
“You take it. I’m going to jump in the shower,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on her head.
I pad into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. Out of habit, I open the drawer for my toothbrush and razor,but when I look down, they’re not there because this isn’t my house anymore. I don’t live here, and I stopped shaving.
“Idiot.” I chuckle with a shake of my head and pick up my toothbrush from the counterwhere I left it last night.
I’m reaching for the tap when I hear an excited squeal, and my ears prick. Peeking around the door, I see Holiday where I left her, but with a smile lighting up her face. Hell, it lights up the entire room as she nods along with whatever Marcy’s telling her.
“Hmm, seriously? With no audition? Holy shit, that’s amazing . . . yes . . . yup. Marcy, you’re incredible?—”
I turn back to the sink, and the smile on my face is as big as Holiday’s.
I’m guessing she’s got something lined up with the theater, and I’m so fucking proud of her.
And not just from this. I’ve never met anyone who’s so sure of themselves. So driven to go after what they want and stand up for what’s good for them in all aspects of their life. She needed a break, she took it. Had a fall, got back up. Wanted to learn something new, and now she’s on her way to being Pierre’s pastry chef.
It’s more than I’ve ever done, that’s for sure.
My path was laid before I was born, and I’ve never deviated from it.
I expect her to join me in the shower, but after ten minutes, I get out, and she’s still talking. Only this time, her tone is vastly different. Harder. For a second, I don’t recognize it as hers.
“No.No,” she repeats, but louder. “Marcy, I was very clear . . . I have an engagement . . . I can’t leave before then?—”
I stop running the towel over my hair and stand still.
“Fuck, Marcy, that’s not fair. They can’t do this?—”
The pitch of Holiday’s voice changes. Becomes higher.
“No. I’m not doing the shows. Someone else can...I wastold the end of November, not the beginning . . . I can’t leave yet . . .No. . . Do something . . . You’re my agent, for fuck’s sake.”
My stomach drops. The beginning of November is three weeks away. I wait for more confirmation of what I don’t want to hear, but instead, there’s a loud thud, followed by a muffled sob.
When I come around the door, I see her phone on the floor across the other side of the bedroom. Quietly, I retrieve it and place it back on the bedside table.
“Hollywood? What’s going on?”
Her neck crooks toward me as I sit on the bed. Her face is screwed with frustration, and she swipes away a tear.
I wait while she gathers her thoughts, teeth worrying her lip. I want to tell her it can’t be that bad, but I don’t. The beginning of November is still ringing in my ears.
Throwing back the covers, she pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I...uh...” She takes a deep breath and flashes a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Let’s go with the good news.”
She nods. “There’s a new production starting ofCat On A Hot Tin Roof. They want me for the role of Stella. Rehearsals begin in April. Opens in July. I have to meet with the director, but apparently, I don’t have to audition.”
My mouth drops. I forget about the phone launched across the room or the fact there’s still bad news to come. She got what she wanted.
“That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
