Draped in crimson, silk ribbons and chiffon, her chocolate waves flowing around her shoulders, every inch of her glows.
Her head lifts, revealing the deep shade of lipstick that matches her dress, and the sadness etched in her eyes rocks me to my core as she stares out at the audience.
Those pale blue eyes sweep slowly through the crowd, up and down the rows, like they’re cataloging each attendee.
Or looking for someone.
Because when they stop on me, everything changes. The lines in her face ease, her shoulders drop, and she stands a little taller. The grief in her eyes fades as the music starts, the familiar chords of her favorite song making me grin. A smile starts in the corner of her mouth, a slow beginning that gives way to an earth-shattering explosion, igniting her face with the most devastating happiness, making her shine.
She always fucking shines.
She’s a masterpiece as she comes to life, letting the music carry her across the stage. Simon fades into the background compared to her, not worthy to be any part of her whole. The show belongs to her, and in this moment, the world does too. If she wants to be a star, they’re waiting. If she wants her own studio, she can have it. There’s nothing this woman can’t do; I’m sure of it.
I’m so enthralled in her I barely notice that Carter’s got the camera off the tripod, that he’s standing in the aisle with the video camera as he tapes the entire performance, head bobbing along.
I’m so in awe of her that I don’t spare a second thought to the arm Simon wraps around her waist before dipping her, his hand running a slow path up her side as the music begins to drift to a close.
I’m so mind-blowingly obsessed with her that I almost miss the look in Simon’s eyes as he draws her into his chest, the way his hand slides along her jaw as the music stops, the way he takes her chin between his fingers and tilts her face up.
I almost miss the way his mouth covers hers as he sears her with a kiss for their grand finale.
But I don’t.
CHAPTER 33
IS THIS THE WAY IT GOES?
JENNIE
The roar of the crowd rings in my ears, but it’s my anger that’s thundering.
Dangerous. Explosive. Lethal.
My heart thrashes, throwing itself at my rib cage like it might burst as I wait for the curtains to close.
“Jennie,” Simon starts once we’re encased in darkness, eager, excited as he releases me. “That was so—”
I twirl so fast I no longer feel the ground beneath my bare feet. The sound of my palm striking his cheek echoes behind the stage, stunning the crew to silence, leaving only the cheers of the audience.
Simon covers the red handprint on his cheek. The dumbfounded expression he wears only spurs me on.
“How dare you,” I seethe. “How fucking dare you.”
“Dazzling! That. Was. Dazzling!” Mikhail rushes toward us but stops short, his grin falling. “Jennie? Is everything okay?”
“No. Everything is not okay.” I stalk toward Simon, every inch of my body hot, right up to the tips of my ears. “No.” I shove my finger in his chest. “I. Said. No. Do you know what no means?”
His hands rise in surrender, or defense, as he nods rapidly.
“That’s funny. Because I’ve said it once.” Another jab to the chest. “I’ve said it twice.” Another. “I’ve lost count of how many fucking times I’ve said that two-letter word to you, yet you still—” jab, “—don’t—” jab, “—get it.” One more jab, extra fucking hard, just for good fucking measure. “How fucking flawed is my judgment that I could never truly see you for who you are? That I gave you chance after chance, believed there was anything decent about you?”
“It was an accident,” he pleads on a whisper, eyes pinballing. “Keep your voice down.”
My brows fly up my forehead. “An accident? You accidentally kissed me without my consent? For the second time?”
There’s the gasp I was waiting for, Mikhail right on cue. “Simon.”
“I-I…I got caught up. It felt right. With acting like we’re in love for the show and everything…It just felt right, Jennie.”
The laugh that leaves my lips is nothing short of menacing. “I don’t need to pretend like there’s anything more going on between us for the sake of the show. I’m a damn hard worker and my dancing will do all the talking, like it always does, like it has my entire life.”
I storm past the watching dance cast, finding my cubby, my bag, my outfit for dinner tonight, and I sling it all over my shoulder. The faster I get the hell out of here, the better.
I pause at the exit, meeting Simon’s worried gaze. “That was the last time we’ll ever dance together. I’m done with pairs, and I’m done with you.” I look to Mikhail. “Understood?”
He gives me a curt nod and a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
I keep my head up as I push through the crowd filtering out of the auditorium, heading for the spot where Carter promised to be waiting.
He’s there. They’re all there. Except for one.
I try not to notice, but the same way his presence shifted my entire mood, brought me to life on stage, Garrett’s sudden absence leaves my body aching, tired, and I’m reminded that welcoming that man into my life brought me a whole lot of happiness I never knew I was missing.
It’s so staggeringly silent and gray without him, and I hate it.
The fury Carter is feeling is as palpable as my own as I march toward him. He opens his mouth, and I shove my finger in his face.
“Don’t even start. I don’t want to hear his fucking name. Not today, not tomorrow, and if you bring it up anyway, yours will be the next face I slap tonight, got it?”
Carter’s lips mash together, eyes wide. “Got it. I’ll go get the car.”
I’m wrapped in hold after hold, passed between family and friends as they praise my performance, and when I take a step back for some air, a hand wraps around my elbow, tugging me around the corner.
Garrett takes my face in his strong hands, thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones as his gaze touches every inch of me. His eyes are hard, reeling with a fury so deep it makes his grasp tremble. But there’s something else there. Something tangible. Something strong and profound and genuine that throws me for a loop, because I used to believe I saw it, but I spent last night convincing myself it was never there.
“Are you okay, Jennie?”
“I’m…” Not. I’m not okay. Simon took something that didn’t belong to him. Kevin took something that didn’t belong to him. The only person I’ve willingly and eagerly given any pieces of myself to is this man right here. I didn’t do it blindly or unknowingly. I did it slowly, cautiously, sometimes while I stared fear right in the face, dared it to prove me wrong about Garrett. It never did. Every time I gave him another piece, he took it carefully in his hands, like each piece was delicate glass, something to be admired.
But now what? Where do we stand? Have I given all my pieces to someone who no longer wants them? Have I lost the only person who’s ever accepted all of me?
“No,” I finally whisper. “I’m not okay.”
The hardness in his eyes fades, giving way to the softness I’ve come to know, the tenderness I love.