The entire first floor of the opera house has been transformed for the gala, everything done in a dramatic black and white motif. They’ve draped white silk from the ceiling to create the illusion of an indoor tent. There are round cocktail tables covered in black linens, and on each one, there’s an extravagant centerpiece made from white orchids and black roses. In the heart of the space, right in the center of the dance floor, there’s an ice sculpture of two swans resting against one another that soars almost seven feet tall. Couples pose in front of it for photos, and my grandmother leads us around it, to where Diana and Victoria have already started to amass a group of friends.
One of the principal dancers from the ballet is among them, still dressed in his prince costume. He’s tall and lithe, good-natured and polite enough to indulge all of our questions. It’s a good fundraising effort for the ballet company to send out their dancers and have them schmooze the crowd. Even I’m a little starstruck by him.
“Think I have a chance with him?”
The question is asked by one of Victoria’s friends, a tall handsome man with pale blond hair and thick black glasses. He stands just to my left, and though he’s bent down to talk to me, his enamored gaze is still on the dancer.
“Romantically?” I ask, just to be sure.
He winks, and I nod.
“Are they allowed to flirt with gala attendees? I’m sure it’s frowned upon.”
“Well technically I’m a guest of Victoria’s, a no one, really, so maybe I should exploit that loophole.”
I laugh. “Well you do have good taste, I’ll give you that.”
He smiles, and then it fades as he catches sight of something over my shoulder.
“Speaking of good taste…don’t look now, but there’s an insanely handsome man looking over here. Wait, he’s not just looking—he’s shooting daggers at me.”
Awareness trickles down my spine.
I don’t bother to turn back to see for myself. “Does he have dark hair?”
“Yes, and an amazing suit, and he has to be, what, six foot two? Please be gay, please be gay, please be gay,” he starts to chant.
I can’t help but laugh.
“How angry does he look?”
“Um, yeah, now that you mention it, I think he might want to rip my head off. Strange considering I don’t recognize him.”
“It’s because of me,” I admit with a note of apology.
“Oh my god, what did you do? He’s coming over here. He isn’t going to try to fight me, is he?”
Another laugh bursts out of me. “I sincerely hope not.”
“You don’t sound convinced, and this is a rented tux. I can’t mess it up or I’ll lose my deposit.”
I take pity on him. I barely know this man; there’s no reason to drag him into the crossfire.
“I’ll sacrifice myself,” I tell him with a wink and then turn to face Emmett all on my own, walking away from the safety of the group.
Just as promised, he looks murderous.
“It’s not at all what you think,” I tell him when we meet halfway. I even press my hand to his chest just in case he gets some wild idea to blow past me. “You can stop staring at that man like that. He’s a friend of Victoria’s.”
Emmett looks down at me with raised brows as if to say, And your point?
“And he’s currently trying to win over that male dancer standing in their group, so there’s no need to lay claim or anything.”
“Lay claim?”
It’s like the idea suddenly intrigues him.
He looks up and surveys the room briefly before refocusing his dark eyes on me.
“So, he’s not a bother…” he continues, “but there are other men here no doubt vying for an opportunity to talk to you. Maybe I should lay claim.”
“Worried I’ll slip away?”
“You’ve proved elusive enough these last few weeks.”
I know he’s only teasing now. He can’t truly be worried that I care for someone else. There is no world beyond him.
“What else was I supposed to do?” I ask, trying to keep up the charade.
He drops his hand over mine. “Relent, eventually. Will you?”
I don’t know how to answer him. The question means too much. So, I sidestep it.
“Did you show up here tonight by pure coincidence?”
“Your grandmother called me.”
My jaw drops. “That saboteur.”
He smiles. “She took pity on me.”
I barely resist the urge to stamp my foot. “She was playing it so cool and everything. I thought she was giving me the freedom to make my own choice in the matter.”
“She is, I assure you. She made that clear to me. But…she saw me come over to the house a few times. She knows my feelings.” He squeezes my hand. “It was kind of her, and now that I’ve told you my secret, you can’t run off…”
He takes my hand, gently lacing our fingers together, and then he starts to pull me toward the dance floor.
The members of the orchestra set up in the corner play a pared-down, slower version of the Swan Lake suite. The delicate harp and violin provide such a gentle melody.
With only a few couples on the dance floor, I feel like the whole room watches us as Emmett sweeps me up into his arms.
“You never asked me if I wanted to dance.”
“Would you like to?” he asks, putting the full force of his charm behind his question. I’m surprised my knees don’t give out.
“Well, it’d be a shame to stop now,” I tease, sounding like I’m doing him a huge favor by enduring his touch when in reality, I’m abuzz with nervous excitement.
We’re approaching the end of the road, the moment when I’ll have to dig my heels in once and for all over a situation that feels muddy and complex and now…suddenly, so silly.
But I don’t have to.
I could deviate from the plan I’ve been carrying out over the last few weeks.
Not with a huge deal of forethought but on instinct alone, this feeling in my stomach, this rapid beating of my heart tells me to do it. Just…let it happen.
“Since you told me a secret, I’ll share one as well.”
He peels back to look at me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit quietly.
It’s only a tiny truth, I know that, but we’ve been playing at war for so long that it feels like a white flag.
And he accepts it, easily turning the conversation into more while he leads me on the dance floor.
“I am too. I enjoyed the ballet. The last time I saw it, I was in Paris. The dancers were wonderful, the principal ballerina most of all.”
I want to scowl. “What if I told you that makes me ridiculously jealous to hear, to think of you admiring a ballerina on stage?”
He looks pleased. “Good.”
I nearly groan. “We’re both doomed.”
“Are we?” He spreads his hand across my lower back. “I mostly watched you tonight. I’m surprised I don’t have a crick in my neck from staring over at your box.”
“I knew.”
“You didn’t look over.”
I smile down at my feet.
“Even if I hadn’t seen you here tonight, I would still have continued to come to your grandmother’s house, to try to get to you no matter what. It’s the least I can do. You understand, don’t you? You’ve proved to me that love endures.” His gaze holds steady. “How long have you loved me, Lainey?”
Obstinate tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I look away and answer with determination. “A painful lifetime, and I had no plans to continue.”
He pulls me closer, ensuring we’re chest to chest as he leans down. His tone is even more determined than mine. “Had I known it was your choice, that you truly wanted me and not just some pre-planned betrothal…”
“You’d have suddenly loved me back?” I snap, shocking us both. Apparently, my residual anger isn’t totally gone…
His eyes stay gentle as he shakes his head. “I would have stopped acting like a fool.”
I have nothing to say to that, no weapons left in my arsenal.
I’ve told him everything. I’ve fought against him. I’ve held out and tried to play at punishment, but Emmett seems so fixed on having me. And why am I resisting when he’s all I’ve wanted since I was a child?
“Sometimes it feels impossible that you could love me,” I whisper. “You must remember what it was like for me at St. John’s. The torment, the mean girls… The day they found the picture I kept of you underneath my pillow…you must have known how much I loved you then.”
“You were young, Lainey,” he says, trying to ease my embarrassment, but I’m not embarrassed.
“And yet I knew then what I know now.” I meet his gaze comfortably, at ease in his arms for the first time as I continue, “I love you, Emmett. I have loved you in so many ways. The innocent love of a child…the clandestine love of a teenage girl wanting someone who’s off limits…the hopeless love of a woman longing for a man who feels just out of reach.”
He keeps one hand on my lower back and brings another up to wrap around my neck, to tilt my head back so he has a full view of me.
“Do you know I still have one of your roses?” he asks. “One you left for me on the dock.”
I shake my head, fighting against the rising tide of emotion. I don’t want to cry here on the dance floor.
“I admit, I didn’t preserve it well. I was a teenage boy who thought sticking it in a shoe box for a few years would do the trick. I’m surprised it hasn’t crumbled by now.”
He studies my face, seeing everything I’m too overwhelmed to conceal, including unabashed love, I’m sure.
“Did you ever wonder why I went down to the lake every night to swim?” he asks.
I knit my brows as I consider those nights so many years ago. I had it worked out, or at least I thought I did. “I assumed you needed the escape, the freedom, the same way I did. Swimming like that helped you quiet your mind.”
“You’re right, that’s true…though there were quite a few nights where it went a bit deeper than that.” His solemn voice almost scares me. “Times where it was my only means of survival. Swimming night after night…it kept me going during a time when I felt I had very little to live for. So when that first rose just appeared on the dock—an angelic white one, no less—I took it as a sign. It felt like a real beacon of hope.”
His forehead wrinkles with emotion. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say? What you unknowingly did for me with those roses?”
I nod, but it’s too difficult to speak.
His head tips down until his forehead touches mine. I squeeze my eyes closed, but still, a tear slips out.
“I love you, Lainey. I didn’t realize it was you at the time, but I owe you for being my guardian angel all those years ago. If nothing else, I’m at least glad you know that.”
My hand tightens on his bicep as if I’m worried now that he’s said that, he’ll slip away.
I’m so desperate to keep him.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask.
He doesn’t seem relieved by the question. His features haven’t relaxed. He’s as worried as I am.
“I don’t know. Should I ask you to come home with me for tonight or to move in? Should I ask you to be my girlfriend or my fiancée? I know what I want, and I can’t take it slow.”
I’m trembling, and I’m sure he can hear it in my voice. “How about we only worry about tonight? Or maybe not even that far? Maybe just our next step?”
“Okay. Do you think your grandmother would mind if I stole you away?”
He’s already starting to lead me off the dance floor.
“No.”
“Then, let’s go.”
