“I’m choosing you over everything,” he says. “I was an idiot, Petra. That night we fought—I said things I didn’t mean. You were right to be angry about the video. It was your career and your reputation. They matter. I should have understood that instead of making it about me.”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault. And I shouldn’t have walked away. I was scared.”
“We both were scared,” Liam says, pulling her closer. “But I’m done being scared. I’m done pretending hockey is all that matters. You taught me to move differently, to be stronger in ways that have nothing to do with checking someone into the boards. You rebuilt me, Petra. Not just my hamstring—me.”
She reaches up, touching his face. “You’re giving up the most important game of your season.”
“No,” he says firmly. “I’m showing up for the most important performance of yours. That’s what partners do.”
“Partners,” she repeats.
“In every sense,” he says. “On stage, off stage, wherever you’ll have me. I love you, Petra. I should have said it months ago instead of letting you walk out that door.”
“I love you too,” she says.
Liam pulls her in for a kiss. When they break apart, she looks at him with sudden panic. “But you don’t have a costume—”
“Volkov’s having wardrobe grab something from a past production. It might not fit perfectly, but it’ll work.” He wipes a tear from her cheek. “Come on, Sugar Plum. We have a performance to put on.”
Backstage, the theater’s pre-performance mayhem swirls around them. Stage lights filter through velvet curtains, illuminating dust motes that dance around like tiny spotlights. Following the lively overture, the opening scene ofThe Nutcrackerbegins, the Stahlbaum family’s Christmas Eve party filling the stage with Victorian grandeur.
From the wings, Liam watches fourteen children in period costumes flood the stage. The boys enter wearing miniature tailcoats with brass buttons, their hair slicked into matching side parts. The girls spin in burgundy and emerald party dresses, petticoats rustling, ribbons trailing from their carefully pinned curls.
A stagehand rushes up to Liam and taps him on the shoulder.
“Sentinels are down three to zero after the first period,” says the stagehand before he disappears down a dark corridor backstage. Before Liam has a chance to let regret creep in his bones, the performance playing out before him recaptures his full attention.
The adult dancers playing the parents glide through the scene. Mrs. Stahlbaum’s bustle dress must weigh fifteen pounds with all its trim and beading, but she moves as if it’s a nightgown. Mr. Stahlbaum’s tailcoat swings as he mimes greeting guests, his long mustache from a bygone era.
The massive Christmas tree upstage starts at twelve feet, waiting for its mechanical moment to grow to forty-one feet. For now, it’s decorated with fake candles and glass ornaments.
Drosselmeyer makes his entrance with a flourish of his cape, black silk lined with purple satin. He brings his three life-sized dolls: Harlequin in his diamond-patterned suit doing mechanical turns; his partner Columbine in pink tulle executing perfect hops in arabesque; and of course, the toy soldier who performs breathtaking jumps much to the children’s delight.
The party builds to its climax: “Grandfather’s Dance.” The orchestra swells; Tchaikovsky’s score fills every corner of the theater with holiday magic that makes even the most cynical stagehands pause to watch.
From his position backstage, Liam can see it all. Dozens of moving parts somehow create a single magical story. In fifteen minutes, this organized pandemonium will clear, the battle scene will begin and then Act II will arrive. His Act II. Their Act II.
Petra appears beside him, now in her Sugar Plum costume. “The party scene always makes me nostalgic,” she whispers. “I was one of those party children once back in Alabama. Stepped on Drosselmeyer’s cape and nearly brought him down.”
“And now you’re the Sugar Plum Fairy,” Liam says.
“With my Cavalier,” she responds, squeezing his hand.
The party scene reaches its end, the children and parents taking their final positions as the lights dim. The transformation is about to begin, the magic that turns a party into a dream, a living room into a battlefield, and very soon, a hockey player and a ballerina into a Cavalier and Sugar Plum.
Liam’s survived game sevens, playoff overtimes, penalty shots with entire cities holding their breath, but none of it compares to this. Hockey terror is manageable. Ballet terror is a different beast altogether.
As Act I concludes and everyone prepares for Act II, Liam is busy envisioning each step in his mind’s eye. His head and body make small, abbreviated movements as he plays out his role to himself in preparation.
Petra moves beside him with the calm of someone in her natural habitat.
“Remember, lift from your core and legs, not just your arms.”
He nods, breathing through the strain.
They stand behind the wings, stage lights creeping into the margins. The little angels are already performing Act II’s opening in the Land of the Sweets, their delicate steps creating the ethereal atmosphere that precedes disaster or magic, all depending on Liam and Petra.
The second act unfurls in a shimmering blur of color and sound. Hot Chocolate bursts onto the stage first, snapping castanets, flashes of crimson, skirts swirling like flames. Coffee follows, slow and sinuous, followed by Tea who flits onstage, all quicksilver precision and bright, chiming notes.
