His hands rest on my shoulders, steady, possessive. Then he tilts my face up with his forefinger, lingering a beat too long.
“Don’t forget,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “this isn’t the end. One day we’ll walk Edison in Central Park. The three of us.”
The words cut straight through me. Every cell in my body begs me to spend the night with him. But I can’t. Not with camerashovering at the edges of the crowd, ready to turn a stolen kiss into a headline.
So I force a smile, choke back the sting in my eyes, and step away before I lose my nerve.
After I quickly change, I weave my way toward the exit. Outside, the night air slaps against my overheated skin.
I stop on the steps of the Dreamhouse Theater, gripping the handrail as if it’s the only thing tethering me.
For a long beat, I can’t move. Every part of me screams to turn back.
To risk it all for one more touch, one more kiss with Cameron. But I force myself to breathe, to remember the photographers, the trial, the uncertainty.
“Tara!” says Chloe, stepping toward me. “The Swain-Blacks are waiting in the car. Let’s go!”
A few minutes later, the driver holds the door open for us, and we slide into the spacious limo.
“Tara, you sang beautifully,” says Mrs. Swain-Black. Her twin girls, Joan and Jill, chatter nonstop, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Did you really practice being swallowed by a whale?” Jill says.
I laugh despite myself.
“No, that part was just the story. Nobody actually gets swallowed.”
“See?” Chloe says, nudging her. “You’re mixing Posey’s whale story with the Moby Dick story we heard sung at the opera tonight.”
“Tonight’s opera was about revenge,” I explain gently. “A captain chasing a whale that hurt him, even if it meant risking the lives of his crew.”
Joan scrunches her nose. “That's boring. They should make it so the whale swallows the captain instead.”
The girls dissolve into giggles, and suddenly I’m laughing too.
It’s been one of the hardest nights of my life, but the sound of their innocent joy cuts through the weight I’ve been carrying.
For a flicker of a moment, the heaviness eases. I glance out the window, though, and the dark Nantucket streets blur past.
When we reach the estate, Chloe tugs my hand, pulling me upstairs toward her room.
“That was so nice that Cameron came for you,” she says, kicking off her heels and collapsing onto her bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating him?”
“I’m not,” I say, kicking off my shoes.
“Not officially.” She smirks. “But I saw the way he looked at you. You two were throwing sparks so bright I’m surprised the chandelier didn’t catch fire.”
I sigh, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “It isn’t like that.”
“Uh-huh.” Chloe leans closer. “So let me ask the real question. Are you in love with him?”
The words hit harder than I expect.
For a moment, I can’t answer. My fingers find the locket at my throat, the metal still warm from the stage lights.
Finally, I whisper, “I’ve never felt like this with anyone. Not in my entire life.”
Chloe exhales, as if she’s been waiting to hear it.
