She squeezed her eyes shut, a familiar hurt crowding around her heart. Because now that she knew about Stevie’s offer, she couldn’t unknow it. She couldn’t ignore it, and neither could Stevie.
New York.
Three thousand miles away.
ButNew York. The Delacorte. Even Iris knew that was huge.
Life-changing.
And Stevie...
Iris didn’t know what to think or feel. Instead of trying to figure it out, she dug into her overnight bag and pulled out her iPad, crawling back to her spot on Stevie’s bed. She opened up her “S & I” folder, then tapped on a blank file. For the next two hours, until she had to start getting ready for the last time she’d ever play Beatrice on stage, she drew.
She drew a curly-haired woman, amber eyes bright, arms outstretched and a beatific smile on her face, standing alone on a New York City street.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE EMPRESS WASpacked tonight. Adri had agreed to sell extra tickets, bringing in more chairs to line against the back wall, and Stevie could feel the cast’s energy the second she stepped into the dressing room backstage.
“Listen to this,” Jasper said, dramatically flipping a newspaper in his hands. Stevie sawSeattle Timeswritten across the front page.
“ ‘With a diverse and queer cast that thrusts the Shakespearean classic into a new and erotic light,’ ” Jasper read, then flicked his eyes to Stevie, “ ‘it is Stevie Scott as a secretly tender and wounded female-identifying Benedick that sets this interpretation apart. Alongside newcomer Iris Kelly as Beatrice, the couple emanates a nearly orgasmic tension on stage.’ ”
“Let me see that,” Stevie said, grabbing the paper from Jasper. She reread the review, which also had lovely things to say about the direction, as well as several other principals’ performance. Still, her cheeks warmed, seeing her and Iris’s names side by side in theSeattle Times. She’d been reviewed in papers before, but this one felt particularly glowing. She couldn’t wait to show Iris.
“Can I have this?” she asked Jasper.
“Yes, fine, take it to your girl,” he said.
“Nearly orgasmic?” Peter said, slicking mascara onto his lashes. “Just once I want to be described that way.”
“Can’t bring it to the finish line, huh, Peter?” Zayn said, pursing their lips.
Peter flipped them off. “I mean my stage performance, asshole.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
They were still bickering back and forth when Iris finally stepped into the room. Stevie felt her entire body relax a little at the sight of her.
“Hey,” she said, working her way toward Iris. The dressing room was small, and every chair was already taken.
“Hey,” Iris said, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Stevie frowned. “You okay?”
Iris nodded, set her bag on the couch. “Just tired. I worked this afternoon.”
“Did you get a lot done?”
Iris nodded again, not meeting Stevie’s eyes. Stevie’s stomach immediately clenched up, worry fizzing into her fingertips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Iris looked at her then. Stared, really. She canted her head and narrowed her eyes, as though waiting for Stevie to answer her own question.
“Yeah,” Iris said finally. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”
Stevie squeezed her arm. “Well, take a look at this.” She handed the paper to Iris, pointing at the review for theirMuch Ado.
Iris’s eyes scanned the words, a small smile on her mouth as she read. She glanced up, meeting Stevie’s gaze.
