“But the kind of theater I want… thereallygood stuff… That’s in London. Manchester. Edinburgh. The West End. The RoyalCourt.The National.” The reverence with which he says the last one lets me know this isn’t a passing fancy, or an off-the-cuff idea to keep us together. This is something he really wants, the way I want a place on an Olympic team.
“You’d move?” I breathe.
“I’d try it,” he says quietly. “If you’re there. If that’s the direction your life goes. I’m not saying we become one person with one plan. I’m saying… I’m allowed to want to be near you. And I’m allowed to want my own path too.”
Warmth spreads through me so fast it’s dizzying.
“But… You’d do that?” I whisper. “For me?”
He shakes his head. “Forme,” he corrects gently. “For who I want to be. And yeah, obviously, because I want to see where this goes.”
My pulse trips as we stare at each other, our future suddenly a huge, terrifying open map instead of two parallel lines.
“So,” he says softly, “we tell them. Your team. My agent. We tell the truth. And not just about you and me. About whatourpriorities are.”
“And then?” I whisper.
“And then we see where the hell life wants us to go.”
I let out a breath that feels like cracking ice. “OK,” I say. “Let’s call them.”
We sit cross-legged in bed, wrapped in blankets, our phones between us like lit bombs.
First, we call my mum back, because my brain is distracted byquestions.
Turns out, yes, they too are cautiously seeing where things go. Mac rushed to her side when she was worried about me, even though she told him not to, and Mum was mercifully succinct when she says “One thing led to another and that’s all you need to know.”
Mum must have loved Mac more than I realized, for her to open up to him again. Mac’s charming and all, but she’s formidable. Which tells me she missed him a whole lot.
Mac… is not as cautious as Mum. He tells us both quite blithely that he’s “not gonna fuck it up this time”. And then he adds, “Be happy, you two, just don’t give me any more grandchildren yet.” Practically paternal blessing on his part. I guess Mum had something to do with that.
We contact my coach. He’s disappointed, he understands what happened and why I ditched, and he even says he’s unimpressed with Josh and Olivia’s conduct; but unfortunately his hands are tied and the committee aren’t going to change their minds. He’s not, however, in the least bit surprised by Team GB’s offer, and wishes me well.
We call Nate’s agent next, who gets over initial surprise at Nate’s ambitions with a scream of delight. Theater credibility will make him solid gold, apparently, and I imagine we would see dollar signs in her eyes if this meeting was face to face. She emails him some West End contacts before he’s even hung up.
Finally, when it’s all done, when the avalanche of adulting finally settles, Nate leans back against the headboard, exhales, and pulls me into him.
“We did it,” he says with soul deep satisfaction.
“We did,” I whisper, at peace for the first time in too long.
“It’s terrifying,” he adds.
“It is.”
“And exhilarating.”
I chuckle. “It reallyis.”
“And remarkably simple. Simpler than I’d thought, all these years.” He threads his fingers through mine, our hands resting over his heart. “So what now?” he murmurs.
I smile into his shoulder. “Cabin rule five,” I say. “We stop pretending this is temporary.”
His hand tightens in mine.
And outside, in the deep white quiet of Montana, the world begins to shift around us, melting, opening, and rearranging itself into something entirely new.
Somethingwe’rechoosing.
