It’s careless of me to think this way. There’s not a damn thingI can do to change it. So I have two choices—live alone or live in the past.
With that, I click off the tall lamp and walk over to the bed in the corner. As I crawl onto the mattress, pulling the thick blanket over my legs, I close my eyes and choose the latter.
Chapter Nineteen
Colin
Ten years ago
Los Angeles
“Curtain call!” a voice whisper-shouts in the dark hallway backstage. I’m sprinting along with the rest of the cast. I died fifteen minutes ago in the third act, so while my fictional widow has been sobbing onstage and, I’m sure, drawing tears from the crowd, I’ve been peeking from the wings to see if I can spot Declan in the audience.
I never did find him.
But the moment I walk out onstage for my solo bow, I hear him. He’s somewhere near the front of the audience, hollering and hooting so loud I nearly die onstage for the second time tonight. This time from embarrassment.
I can barely make him out through the stage lights, but I squint down at where I think he is and give him a wide-eyed expression. It doesn’t stop him. He just keeps whistling and shouting.
After the curtain closes, my castmates crack up and poke fun at me for my veryenthusiasticfriend.
“Yournot-boyfriendis very excited to see you,” Maeve says as she wraps an arm around my waist and hugs me closer.
“How do you think it went tonight? It was so weird knowing he was out there,” I say as we go to the dressing room together to change and take off this makeup.
“Are you kidding? You were brilliant and moved all of LA to tears,” she says, shoving me on the arm.
“Thanks,” I say with a tight smile. “So were you.”
“I know,” she replies with a quirky head tilt.
Maeve has been one of my best friends since she and I met in a production in London last fall. We hit it off immediately. She talked me into moving to the States, and with how overbearing my mother has been, it wasn’t hard to convince me. I’ve been living in her flat and got a part in the play almost immediately after moving here—on my own.
She’s hooking me up with her agent, and we’re even going to auditions together nearly every day we have off. It feels like my life is finally starting.
“What are your big plans with yournot-boyfriend?” Maeve asks as she wipes the thick stage makeup from her face with a white cloth.
“I rented a place by the beach, and I think I just want to spend the week in the water, getting drunk with him,” I say.
“Mm-hmm,” she replies with a knowing smirk.
I’ve told Maeve everything about Declan, from the blow job in the pool to what happened last year in Dublin. She knows how much I’ve been anticipating this trip of his out here to visit me in hopes that we finally take things to the next level. I can open up to Maeve without shame or embarrassment. With anyone else, I think I’d be humiliated to admit that I’m still a virgin at twenty-four and that I’ve been holding out for someone who I only see once a year and isn’t even my boyfriend.
Maeve thinks it’s romantic and not at all pathetic.
Once we’re all cleaned up, we make our way out of the stage door. There’s a horde of fans waiting, and flashes go off as she andI wave to those hovering around us. We sign a few playbooks and take some selfies before I notice the dark-haired man holding the obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers.
Maeve gives a little squeak of appreciation before disappearing into her Uber. “Have fun,” she calls out before the door closes.
“Wow,” I say to Declan as I take the flowers from him. “Thank you.”
“You were bloody incredible,” he bellows, his thick Scottish accent sounding so much thicker and more prominent since I’ve been living in America for the last six months. Just the sound of it makes me feel instantly nostalgic and happy.
He looks so good too. A bit out of place, but good. With his shaggy brown hair and slightly baggy clothes, he is exactly as I remember him. But missing him for these past eleven months just makes his presence now shine brighter. He is more Declan to me now than he ever was before.
I let the flowers hang as I pull him into a tight hug, lingering there for longer than appropriate.
“God, I missed you,” I say into his neck, and I feel him tighten his grip even more.
