“Stop, we don’t have to do this right now. Your mom?—”
“No. We do, I need to say this.”
Her cheek feels damp beneath my touch and I rub my thumb under her eye, wishing I could wipe away all the ways I hurt her. “I know you said that you couldn’t fix me, that you wouldn’t, but you need to understand that everyday I spent with you it felt like another piece of who I’m supposed to be clicked back into place. I’ve been stupid and stubborn and I pushed you away. Pushed you away because I was so afraid of how deeply I loved you. The idea that you could walk away….” I stop shaking my head, my jaw clenching at the very idea. “If you walked away it would have fucking killed me, Gen. You think I’m broken now? You leaving me would have ruined me, burnt me to the fucking ground. It’s stupid, I know it’s so damn stupid, but pushing you away felt like the only way to save myself.”
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “From me?”
“No, no…” I squeeze my eyes shut, needing her to understand. “I was terrified because youhavechanged me,fixedme. Every moment—every second I’ve spent with you has made me feel like I found my reason. Found that thing I’ve always been looking for, always been missing.There aren’t many people who I can’t fathom losing and the idea that you could change your mind…” Her fingertips trace my cheeks and I let myself lean into the feel of her, my lips grazing her wrist before I duck my head. Meeting her eyes I see a love I never thought I’d have.
“Something about you, though. I can’t escape it. This shred of hope, this faith you’ve rooted inside me. Faith in myself, in us. I can’t keep running from it, Gen, and I’m so sorry I ever tried. I’m so sorry I didn’t dive head first into this with you. I promise you. I promise you that I will never lose it. That nothing and no one will ever keep me from you again, especially myself. I love you, Gen. It’s all I can think about, all I can see. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Need you. You’re everything. You’re it for me.”
I watch the love well in her eyes, the emotion I’d been missing since I pushed her away. Her hand gently pushes my tears back, ones I didn’t realize I let fall. With quivering lips she says the words I’ve dreamt about hearing, the ones I told myself couldn’t be true for so long, but this time I believe them.
“I love you too, Grant. So much. I love you so, so much and I’ll always choose you. Forever. You're it for me, too.” Her eyes gleam, happy and full of everything I’d ever hoped for.
I swallow unable to keep any of my emotions at bay because with just those words she’s stitched me backtogether, shrinking and morphing the time we spent apart and all the feelings I’ve had over the past few weeks, past few years. Until those empty moments are singing the sound of our love. Her lips part and crash into mine, my hands tangling in her hair as every promise lain between us twines together, until the fragments of what we were evolve into what we are.
37
Gen
Heart hammering in my chest, I sweep into my solo bow, Jean beaming at me from the end of the line that’s stepped back for me. And the applause is still thunderous, louder and more exhilarating than I’ve ever experienced during a curtain call. A crisp whistle pierces the clapping, and I squint past the stage lights, wondering if maybe it’s Sloane. I pull deep breaths in through my nose, my tears kept miserably at bay by the attempt.
The best performance of my life is an understatement. I felt it in every pirouette, in every plié—understood with every movement of the orchestra that I was merely another instrument playing in perfect harmony.
Tears push past my waterline when I think about it, think about how I get to do this again. Howthisis what I get tobe. The line behind me rushes up and I grab the hands of two of the younger girls before we shuffle forward, anticipating another roar of shouts and praise from the audience. They’re on their feet, but I can’t see their faces, and all I feel is pure delirium.
Flowers continue to fall on the stage as we all shuffle toward the wings, dancers turning toward each other in child-like glee, running off stage to quickly snap pictures before the final curtain. I look for Jean just as he leaps toward me, his arms open wide, pulling me into a hug of pure pride.
“Bitch!!” he squeals. “I hope someone recorded tonight because you wereethereal. An angel on earth. Like, we actually all died and went to heaven.”
My grin spreads wide and I feel the way my dimples deepen, feel the electric pitter patter of my heart.
“Final bows!” a tech shouts, the dancers around me filing back onto the stage.
The jingling of bells is the first thing I hear when I swing the stage door open, but Grant is all I can see. Snow blankets the world around us, like we’re in a snow globe, and it dusts his face, drifts across his lashes as he gazes into my eyes with quiet heat.
“You were fucking incredible,” he murmurs, his hand caressing my face. “And beautiful. And stunning. I couldn’t take my eyes—” My eyes snag on something in his other hand, growing wide as I look at what he’s grasping. It’s a pastry box—a box whose sight brings back smells and sights and feels back to the fore of my memory.
“Where did you get this?” Tears flood my eyes, threatening to spill past the waterline.
“Laurel’s.” So matter of fact, a smirk on his lips. “The train’s honestly so convenient. We should take it sometime.”
“You took the train all the way to New York to buy me the same croissants my dad used to buy me before a show?”I’m in utter disbelief that I could be worthy of someone who would do something like this for me.
“I did. I wanted to give them to you yesterday. My pathetic attempt at winning you back,” he adds, his smirk falling slightly at the mention of Connie.
“Not pathetic,” I say, catching his gaze and resting my hand across the roughness of his jaw. “Perfect. You didn’t have to do that.”
“There’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do for you, Genevieve,” he says, just for me to hear, his lips so close to mine when does, and I can’t help but close the distance. The moment our lips touch, everything else goes quiet.
Because Grant’s kiss is the bed you fall into after a long day; it’s opening an old album and seeing all your favorite people frozen in time; it’s the dream you try to force as you fall asleep, wishing for just a few moments of perfection. His kiss is all of that, and every cell in my body is at rest now that we’re here. Our tongues twine around each other, perfectly in sync, the dance they’re doing slow and indulgent as we remind one another just how right we are.
He dips me back and I let him, relish the sturdiness of his hand on my lower back, savor the taste of him, the heat of him, the woodsy smell of his aftershave when I run my nose against his jaw. He takes my mouth again, and this time it’s bold. It’s a claim, and there’s nothing restrained about it. It’s him leading and me following and I just fall into it, letting him catch me as I relax into his hold—letting him have me in a way no one else has. In a way no one else ever will.
Neither of us want to stop, want this kiss to end, but we sense that we’re not alone at the same time. We break the kiss, but he lets his forehead fall to mine, not really caring that we have an audience.
“Okay…” we hear Liv croon as she approaches. “Show’s over. Seriously—get a room,” she jokes, and when we finally unwind from each other, we notice that most of the crowd has dispersed.
