He flashed me a smile and then checked his watch. “Okay, BrAvery,” he said, giving my arm a supportive squeeze, “little change of plans . . .” As if on cue, I heard the opening chords of—not “The Wizard and I”—but to my surprise and horror, “Defying Gravity.”
“Wait, no, Charlie. I . . . I . . .”
“You got this, BrAvery! I believe in you. Just go out there and stop overthinking it . . . it’s supposed to be fun.”
I silenced my instinct to flee back to the dressing room or right out the front door, and instead, straightened my pointed hat, nodded firmly, and strode out to the stage, drawing in a few deep breaths in preparation. Sweat now beading at my hairline and rolling down my temple as my hands trembled by my sides, I was grateful for the extra coat of setting spray I’d applied before coming out.
As I hit my mark, I was assaulted by a barrage of bright lights and fog I hadn’t been prepared for. Charlie was pulling out all the stops and I fought to focus, continuing my duet with an exuberant Glinda who flitted about the stage around me.
The audience was enraptured, and with each note, my confidence burbled up from a place I’d stuffed it down long ago. I planted my feet, ready to attack the final belting note of the showstopper. I sucked in a breath, fully inflating my diaphragm, and as I opened my mouth to let out the wall of sound I was ready to unleash, I spotted Gabe in the doorway of the restaurant. And at the shift in my concentration, my voice epically and impressively cracked—just like I had again, under the pressure.
Chapter Seventeen
From behind a bouquet of brightly colored peonies, Gabe walked through the door of Mimi’s just in time to hear the disastrous final note of “Defying Gravity.” I blushed fiercely at the gaffe, the rouge of my cheeks mixing with the caked-on green makeup, and I imagined myself looking more like the rusted Tin Man than the Wicked Witch of the West. I glanced over at Gabe, expecting to see him wincing or his jaw dropped to the floor, but instead, a huge smile erupted across his face.
He backed into a seat at the counter, his eyes never leaving mine. As the crowd broke into a light smattering of applause, Gabe’s loud, raucous hooting overpowered almost everyone in the room. Gabe couldn’t have possibly heard the same train wreck of a final note that everyone else did? I mean, I guess it wasn’t a moo, so that was an improvement over the last time, but still it was pretty terrible. I awkwardly curtseyed and scurried off the stage, hopping down and making my way over to where he was seated.
“Wow, that was fantastic,” he gushed.
He looked so handsome, so put together, my ridiculous getup made even more apparent by the contrast. “Gabe, I’m so surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”
“Ever since you told me you were working at Mimi’s again, I’ve been looking for an excuse to stop in. But I don’t have one other than just wanting to see you. And bring you these.” He handed me the lush bouquet, and I bent my head down to inhale the soft floral scent. “Peonies are your favorite, right?”
“I . . . I can’t believe you remembered that.” I took a second sniff, and somehow they smelled even sweeter than they had moments before.
He smiled and nodded. “I remember a lot of things. For example, I remember that our favorite French bistro is only a few blocks from here, and I made us reservations. I was hoping we could grab a late lunch together if you’re free? Please say you are?”
I thought about the charming French bistro we used to visit several times a month when we dated. The delicious Chablis that paired perfectly with their unforgettable fondue, the candlelit atmosphere, and the Parisian-style accordion player who worked Thursday through Saturday nights. It was our place, and I hadn’t been back in at least a couple of years. Even still, I could smell the garlicky seafood broth of their moules frites special, and the flakey baguettes they served with it.
“That’s really thoughtful, but I still have about two hours left in my shift. Maybe we can do it another time?” I still wasn’t sure what to make of Gabe’s unexpected presence in my life. The scars from Adam had barely started to heal, and it was hard to imagine ever opening myself up to someone again in that same way. But Gabe wasn’t just someone.
Reading my hesitation, his face fell slightly, even though it was evident he was trying to hide the hurt. “You showing up at my door like that on Christmas can’t just be coincidence. And I’m sure it’s hard for you to trust me again, probably to trust anyone. But, Avery, I know what I lost, and I’m not prepared to let that happen a second time. So, if it’s okay, I’ll wait for you, right here, until your shift is over. I need you to know how much I’ve changed.”
“You want to wait for me? Here?” I tried to suppress a smile, his resolve winning me over.
“Yeah, I’d like to see a few more of your numbers.”
Flattered, I glanced around the busy diner and relented. “Well, you’re welcome to wait, but uh . . . you’ll need to order something if you’re going to occupy a space at the counter.”
“Great! I came hungry for lunch anyway. What’s good here?”
I passed him a menu. “Well, the Ham-ilton and Cheese is fairly popular. So’s the Holdin’ Out for a Meatball Hero. We also have a Fried Chicken Breast Side Story that’s really good.”
“I’ll take the Holdin’ Out for a Meatball Hero, and since I’m playing the long game here,” he said, scanning the back page, “the Bend and Gingersnaps for dessert.”
“Great choices.” I nodded. “Anything to drink? How about a Fanta of the Opera?”
Gabe scrunched up his face. “Is it possible to just get an iced tea?”
“Of course, one Sweet Chari-tea, comin’ right up.” I winked at him and scribbled his order on a notepad I pulled out from my pocket.
With the bouquet tucked in my arm, I turned to leave, but Gabe caught me by the elbow and said, “Has anyone ever told you that you look good in green? Beautiful, actually.”
“Maybe,” I said with a cheeky smile, then hurried away before the blush igniting in the apples of my cheeks started to turn my face a ruddy brown again.
After punching in Gabe’s order, I headed back to the dressing room to take off the green makeup for the rest of my shift, a little easier said than done. Without access to a shower, I balled up a handful of remover wipes and did my best to rub off as much as I could.
Minutes later, Charlie came up behind me. “You have a little something there,” he said, pointing to my hairline before I swatted his hand away, still annoyed he hadn’t given me a heads-up about his last-minute adjustment to my set list.
I leaned forward toward the mirror and scrubbed my forehead harder. “Thanks,” I huffed, then tossed the wipe into the garbage can and spun around to face him. “Why’d you change the song? I told you I wasn’t ready.”
“Actually, you never said that. You said, ‘We’ll see.’ So how was I supposed to know you were actively avoiding singing it? It really wasn’t that bad. You’ve got the chops, now you just need the confidence.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for your diagnosis, Doc.”