Why now?
Why, in the hundreds of months in which my period could’ve started early since I was thirteen, did it have to be now? Why did it have to pick this month and this day? This accident could’ve happened during one of the rehearsals, or during the test performance yesterday. But no, it does this on opening night when I’m wearing a cream muslin dress and performing in front of a real audience. In front of Jonas.
Oh, the shame!
“Do you have what you need?” he asks.
“Yes, in my room.”
“Go! I’ll find Tami in the meantime so she can prep another gown for you.”
A part of me marvels at his presence of mind in this situation. Another part remembers he’s supposed to be in the room flirting with Elizabeth right now.
Luckily, Sandra rushes toward us, eyes wide. I point at the stain. Comprehension slackens her face.
“Wasn’t due for another week,” I mumble so she wouldn’t think me a careless fool.
“Stress or stage fright can do that.” She turns to Jonas. “Off to the hall with you! I’ll get Tami.” She shifts her eyes to me, motioning to the staircase. “Run along! Meet me in the costume shop!”
I race upstairs to my room, where I rummage through my suitcase in search of the tampon box.There!Grabbing one, I dash to the bathroom down the hallway, and then to the costume shop.
And all the while, I keep thinking,That’s why he was staring at me.He was trying to communicate, to warn me. But I was too dense. Seeing my inability to catch his drift, he took drastic action to spare me further embarrassment.
I don’t think I’ve felt more foolish in my entire life than I do now.
CHAPTER11
MARGOT
We finished the talkback with the audience, held our own postshow debrief over dinner in the kitchen, and then everyone in the cast and crew headed upstairs to the bar to unwind.
I said I’d join them later. But I won’t—tummy ache. Not that menstrual cramps have never kept me from doing what I burn to do, but the truth is, I don’t burn to be around people tonight.
Objectively, the performance went well. My setback kept me away from the field for a total of fifteen minutes, not more. When I burst into the costume shop, Tami and Sandra had readied a new attire for me. Less chic than the one I’d ruined, it was still fine enough for Caroline.
They helped me into it, taking care to preserve my updo, and sent me to the frontline. Back in the Sky Hall, I rallied miraculously and delivered the best act I could. Jonas lost interest in me and lavished Elizabeth with his attention. No other accidents arose until the final round of applause died down three hours later and the audience vacated the premises.
So yes, objectively, we have cause for celebration. But I’m too exhausted both mentally and physically to partake in it. Instead, I lie down for a bit, sit around for another bit, and then pace my room, which tonight seems more confined than before.
It doesn’t help that I’ve now realized who occupies the bedroom next to my walk-in closet. It’s the master bedroom, by the way. And the person sleeping in there is the master of the house, Count Jonas d’Alenq. The insufferable macho man who’s been playing a nerve-racking game of hot looks and cold quips with me for a week now. The overbearing toff who saw a blot on me—quite literally—and exfiltrated me before it got worse.
I lie down on the bed and stretch out again.
Does he know it’s me sleeping in his dressing room?
Oh well, it doesn’t matter. In the morning, he appears later than the rest of us, goes in earlier in the evening, and makes little noise. Even when he calls his son, he keeps his voice down. I can’t make out what they talk about except when Matteo’s boyish voice rings in the room just before Jonas switches to the headphones.
Once again, it doesn’t matter. Jonas isn’t even in his room right now. He’s in the bar, celebrating with the others and being the object of incessant seduction attempts by Melody, Tami and Hyacinth… Oh, and there’s also that pretty blonde that came by a few days ago.
You know what? They can have him!Together, separately, at once, or in turn—I don’t care. I’m done obsessing about that man.
I jump to my feet to resume my pacing when an image of a space that’s bigger, cozier, and a lot lovelier than this closet takes shape in my mind.
The library on the second floor. Woohoo!
Jonas said we could go there to relax or meditate as long as we didn’t smoke or touch his fragile antique books. That’s where I need to be tonight, in that library among leather-bound volumes and colorful rugs, meditating.
I stick my phone in the pocket of my jeans and head downstairs, praying that no one had the same idea and got there first.
