Without warning, the shock and pain of that moment hit me so hard, I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. My mind goes drama queen, and suddenly I picture myself draped in black, standing in front of a gravestone, the rain clouds threatening to unleash as I bid farewell. In front of me, I read the epitaph “Here lies the remains of #MoltonForever. The couple that was only a couple to one of them.”
A careful mask slides over my face as the laughter dies down, and all eyes are on me, waiting for an explanation.
“We’re not like that. It was all for show.” I try my best to smile.
“Like heck it was!” Mama says, making Paige giggle.
I look at Mama, shaking my head. “You must not have seen our closing interview.”
“Oh, I did,” she says with all her Southern conviction.
“Then you know it was all strategy. Colton said as much.”
“Oh, honey, you’d have to be blinder than a bag of bats to believe that. The boy’s fallen for you,” Mama says.
I bury my face in my palms and groan. “I just can’t trust anything he says. One moment, he’s saying one thing, and the next, he’s saying the complete opposite.”
Mama’s hand reaches for my arm, pulling my gaze toward her. “Take it from someone who’s done it all wrong for so many years. Maybe he just needs to explain himself. I know it’s tempting, but try not to count him out until you’ve heard his truth from his lips. If you felt something between you, trust that.”
“And if I’m wrong? If that feeling is wrong?” I say, anxiety pooling within me.
“Then at least you know.” Paige smiles softly, reminding me of her and Jordan. They were perfect together, and yet, if Paige had never asked for the truth from Jordan, maybe things would have turned out differently for them.
I think of Colton, his arms surrounding me, strong and sure. I remember how he protected me from the cameras, the almost kiss when we’d snuck away, his confidence in my dreams, and the way he’s always been there for me, whether we “hated” each other or not. No, those moments had to be real.
“Maybe. Maybe I should …” I take a moment to swallow my doubts. All the while, I feel nervous about the action that must accompany my next words. “I should go talk to him.”
All at once, Ji, Paige, and Mama nod in agreement, and I find myself smiling despite my fears.
Just then, another alarm sounds, making us all jump at once, and yet again, we’re all laughing.
Ji walks over and grabs my phone off my nearly empty backpack and silences the alarm.
“Okay, but maybe you should go get The Red Curtain first before it’s too late,” Ji says, tossing me my phone.
“Right.” I nod. “Building first, then Colton.”
Chapter 29
MISSY
My Lucky Louis glisten with each step across the red-and-brown brick pavers that line Pine Lakes’s main street. Compared to my simple pale-pink dress, the Louis stand out in all their glory, having no qualms about stealing the limelight after being hidden in my closet for so many weeks. With every step, I push every negative thought down to my toes and out of my shiny footwear, until I feel like the luckiest person on the planet. I wave to passersby on the street as they pay at parking meters and walk their small dogs in strollers and their big dogs on their own four paws.
I beam, remembering Mama’s hug of encouragement before I drove downtown to finally purchase the home for Somethingto Glow About. I feel as if I’m in one of those dryer-sheet commercials, where it’s springtime and everything smells like lavender and sunshine. I’ve taken a shower, my hair has been combed with a brush, and I even put on deodorant without worrying if it would be stolen. I relish the way my sundress brushes my calves as I walk, and I’m grateful I don’t have to adjust a swimsuit wedgie all the livelong day. Filled with a burst of excitement, I do a giddy spin on the balls of my feet, not caring that the whole of Grandma’s Feather Bed quilting store can see me clearly through their shop windows. Let them watch as today my dreams come true.
I hear my phone ring in my purse for the third time in fifteen minutes. It’s probably the same unknown number that’s been plaguing me about my car’s extended warranty. Now is not the time for solicitors. Reaching into my purse, I silence my phone. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.
Soon after, I arrive at the old brick building that’s been my home away from home for years. Gold-framed glass doors stand at the entrance with two ornate filigree doorknobs, a testament to its history and the many years it’s welcomed community members through its doors. With a deep breath, I swing open one of the two glass doors and am greeted by the scent of well-loved curtains, old wood, and drying paint, probably coming from one of the many rooms down the hallway to the theatre’s left—Mr. Whitaker, The Red Curtain’s owner, said he’d fix a few things up while I was gone.
It’s ghostly inside, not a soul to be seen, but it’s in moments like this that I love The Red Curtain the most. It gives me the chance to think about my days, to work through my struggles, and to build my dreams. But despite its ghost town feel, I know one person will be here just as he said he would when I talked to him before I left forSunsets and Sabotage.
I click over the wood floors in the entryway and stride toward the theatre side of the building with its red carpet, patterned with golden vines that crisscross over each other. Walking across the carpet, I face Mr. Whitaker’s office door, soon to be my office door. A door that will remain open to kids looking for a place to feel seen and heard. It feels so surreal, I doubt pinching myself would have any effect at this point.
I raise my hand to knock on Mr. Whitaker’s office door with its crooked nameplate, but before I can, Mr. Whitaker shuffles out, surprise lighting his features. I immediately step back, giving him more room than his slight frame needs.
I prepare myself for his signature smile where his ears and bushy eyebrows rise until they can’t go any higher. But instead, his lips pull tight, and his eyebrows hang over his darkly circled eyes like an awning awaiting a storm.
“Mr. Whitaker?”
