He's stage right with the other party scene parents, and I'm going to die at how good he looks in that tux. The tailcoat, the perfect fit, the way he moves with absolute confidence like he's been doing this his whole life, not like he learned it yesterday in his office.
He is a natural.
The curtain falls. The house lights come up. Backstage erupts—kids hugging, parents congratulating, Mrs. Kowalski giving notes for tomorrow's matinee.
Marie runs straight to me.
“Did you see?! Did you see?!”
I catch her in a hug. “You were amazing. So amazing.”
“I didn't forget anything!”
“Not once. You were perfect.” I pull back, hands on her shoulders. “I'm so proud of you.”
Emma appears, pulling Marie into another hug, then Tom, then my parents emerging from the crowd.
“Sweetheart, you were wonderful,” my mom says, kissing Marie's forehead.
My dad spots Evan standing to the side, and reaches out to shake his hand. “Evan! That was great. Thank you so much for stepping in.”
“Happy to help,” Evan says, and I hear the warmth in his voice.
My mom takes his hand next. “You were wonderful up there. So dashing.”
“Wow, thank you.”
“Well, thank you for helping our Holly.”
I catch his eye over my mom's shoulder. He's smiling.
Emma pulls me aside while everyone's still congratulating Marie. “Okay, he's perfect. You know that, right?”
“Emma—”
“I'm just saying. Tom likes him. Mom likes him. Marie's obsessed with him.” She grins. “And you can't stop looking at him.”
“I'm not?—”
“You are.” She squeezes my arm. “Have fun tonight. I'll see you back at the house later?”
“Yeah. Later.”
I make my way backstage to change. Evan's already out of his tux, back in jeans and a sweater. He looks good in that too. Of course he does.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
“Let me grab my stuff.”
We say our goodbyes to the family—Emma giving me one more significant look, Marie making Evan promise he'll be back tomorrow. Then we're out the stage door and into the December night.
The festival is still going, but winding down. Families heading to their cars, vendors starting to pack up booths. The lights are still twinkling though, strung between lampposts and wrapped around tree trunks.
“Want to walk through town?” I ask. “See the festival? Or whatever part is still happening tonight?”
“I'd like that.”
We drop off our things in Evan’s car and start walking, no particular destination. Just moving through the square, past the bakery (closed now, but the window display still lit), past the bookstore with its romance novel event poster still in the window.
