I hadn’t told Emma I was coming. I wanted it to be a surprise, but I was second-guessing my appearance with every step.
Asher’s gloved hand squeezed mine. “You ready?” he asked, his voice quiet.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
We were already here. It was too late to turn back.
Nevertheless, the air evacuated from my lungs when we turned the corner and Westbury’s famous neoclassical facade burst into view.
It loomed ahead, its grand columns and ornate gilding illuminated by the soft glow of neighboring lampposts. The marble steps teemed with people dressed in suits and gowns, and several professional photographers snapped pictures of the arriving attendees like it was a red-carpet event.
For RAB, it was a red-carpet event. Most attendees were friends and family of the students, but there were also alumni and dance company representatives present. The school made a limited number of tickets available to the public, and those were snatched up by true ballet aficionados.
It was going to be a spectacular night—if I could get past the rattle of nerves in my chest.
“Breathe,” Asher said as we approached the steps. “We can leave any time you want.”
This time, I was the one who squeezed his hand in silent thanks.
“We’re not leaving.” My resolve pushed past the nerves and hardened into determination. “We came here for Emma, and we’re staying for her.”
After several lengthy discussions, I became Emma’s official mentor last month. I’d never mentored anyone before, but I loved my new role. Teaching students dance techniques was one thing; guiding them in their career was another.
The latter was so much more fulfilling than I expected, and I wanted to see her perform live. She’d worked so hard for the role. I didn’t want to be so weak and selfish that I wouldn’t even try to set aside my own hang-ups to support her on the biggest night of her career so far.
So here I was, mouth dry and heart racing as Asher showed our tickets to the staff.
Several people did a double take when they saw him, but they were polite enough to keep a respectful distance, and we entered the theatre with no issues.
Thankfully, we didn’t have to deal with the paps hounding us anymore either. After weeks of endless coverage and clickbait articles, they finally got bored and moved on to the messy movie star divorce Brooklyn predicted earlier in the fall.
They still popped up now and then because Asher was Asher, but compared to the circus of our early days, we were enjoying relative peace.
“I’ve never been here before.” Asher sounded impressed as he took in our opulent surroundings. “It’s beautiful.”
My throat clogged at the familiar sweep of marble stairs and soaring windows.
“It is,” I said softly. “It hasn’t changed at all.”
He glanced at me, his gaze assessing. He didn’t condescend me by asking if I was okay, but I could feel his concern as we walked up the stairs toward the main auditorium.
Surprisingly, I really was okay.
I thought walking through the halls of Westbury again would be overwhelming, but other than my initial shock of nerves and nostalgia, I felt nothing except anticipation for Emma’s performance.
For years, I’d built the theatre up to be this monstrous symbol of my old life, but it was just a building. The small man to the great Wizard of Oz of my imagination. The only power it held was what I gave it, and I’d reconciled with my past enough to not give it any power at all.
In another lifetime, I’d be backstage right now, preparing for another performance as the star of the show.
Tonight, I was merely one of hundreds of attendees who’d shown up to support the next generation of dancers.
And I was more than okay with that.
“Asher! Is that you?”
Our heads turned at the same time. A beautiful redhead approached us in the hall with a tall, handsome Asian man in tow. Her face split into a wide smile.
“It is you! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?” She hugged Asher and turned to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you, the girl who snagged the infamous Asher Donovan. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
I smiled back and returned the sentiment. We only just met, but she exuded an infectious energy that was impossible to resist.
Asher laughed. “Scarlett, this is Jules, an old friend of mine.”
“And this is Josh, my boyfriend,” Jules added, gesturing at the man beside her.
“It’s great to meet you.” Josh gave me a warm smile that revealed a devastating set of dimples. However, his smile visibly cooled when he glanced at Asher. “Donovan.”
Asher looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Josh. Always a pleasure.”
“We were on our way to our seats when I spotted you. I told him it was you, but he insisted it wasn’t. See?” Jules elbowed Josh in the side. “I was right.”
“You were.” He didn’t sound particularly thrilled.
Josh slid an arm around Jules’s waist and glared at Asher while we chatted during our wait for curtains up.
It turned out the American couple was on holiday from D.C. Asher met them at Queen Bridget’s wedding a couple of years ago (I still couldn’t believe he’d been a guest at the royal wedding of the century), and they’d kept in touch since.
Well, he and Jules kept in touch. I could tell by Josh’s scowl that he was not an Asher fan.
