Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Marley
I make it to the theater with plenty of time to spare.
Climbing the dozen or so cement stairs to the entrance feels different this time.
It’s the same building, the same steps I’ve walked countless times before, but tonight, every step is a reminder of an impending goodbye.
It reminds me of the first time I came here.
That surreal memory of when I stepped into something bigger than myself.
Only now, it’s tainted by the knowledge that my time here is running out.
And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I can’t even talk about it. Paula and Sue haven’t made an official announcement yet, which means I have to swallow the hard lump of uncertainty in my throat while everyone else carries on, oblivious.
Inside, twenty or so dancers from our company fill the stage space, splitting off into familiar clusters—stretching, warming up, running through last-minute corrections.
Dust particles float in the beams of stage lights, music cuts in and out as the sound techs run their checks, colors shift across the stage as lighting cues are tested.
In the far corner, Emmy and I claim our usual spot, looping resistance bands around our feet, pointing and flexing in a quiet rhythm.
She eyes me suspiciously, like she can sniff out that something’s off with me, too attuned to everyone around her.
“What’s going on with you, Mar? I haven’t seen you this quiet since …” She pauses, thinking. “Actually, you’ve never been quiet.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Totally normal. Nothing is going on whatsoever.”
Nailed it. Completely unsuspicious. Fuck me.
She stares. “You’re a horrible liar.”
I throw my head back with a dramatic groan. “Okay, fine. There is something going on. Unfortunately, I can’t say what. Yet.”
“But you tell me everything.”
The way she says it, offended, almost betrayed, makes me feel like I kicked a puppy.
“I know, but this time I’m legally obligated to keep my mouth shut. For all I know, a swarm of fancy lawyers in suits worth more than my entire apartment building will come charging at me if I say anything.”
Her eyes widen. “Okay, yeah. Then definitely don’t tell me. We don’t have fight rich lawyers kind of money.”
She’s right. Neither of us do. While her parents might have, that bridge burned nearly two years ago when she cut ties, taking their financial support with it.
I sigh, rolling out my shoulders. “Tell me something to take my mind off it. Anything.”
Casually as ever, she drops, “I banged that guy from the dating app last night. He had Ninja Turtle sheets on his bed.”
I blink. “What the fuck.”
She shrugs, like this is completely normal for a man our age.
I shake my head. “Okay, I didn’t think you’d actually manage to distract me, but kudos, because now I have so many questions about this man and his bedding choices.”
“They were very off-putting,” she admits. “He was also very hot, so I let it slide.”
I laugh. “Seems reasonable.”
The evening blurs into movement and adrenaline. The show begins. We dance. We quick-change. We rush frantically backstage, then step gracefully back under the lights as if we hadn’t just been yanking costumes over our heads and dipping our pointe shoes in rosin seconds before.
And then, all too soon, it’s over.
We take the stage for our final bow, breathing hard, sweat cooling against our skin. The audience claps in the half-filled seats, scattered cheers, the occasional sharp whistle cutting through the applause.
It’s not a sold-out crowd, but it’s ours. And when I take a step back, making room for the next set of dancers to bow, I see it.
A tall figure near the back, rising from his seat, heading for the exit. The shape of him, the way he moves, looks exactly like Theo. The blinding stage lights make it hard to see clearly, though, casting halos and shadows that distort everything.
After the mood he was in today, after his whole we must keep this work appropriate stance, there’s absolutely positively no chance in hell that he’d suddenly go against that and show up.
Even so, through the haze of lights and darkness, I can tell the man is tall. Built. And, even with his back turned, undeniably handsome.
I blink and look again, but he’s already gone.
He’s just a stranger leaving early. Nothing more.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
However, the part of me that’s been paying too much attention lately? The one that catches the way his voice softens when he says my name, or how he watches me when he thinks I won’t notice?
That part isn’t so sure.
Theo stays holed up in his office all morning, either drowning in whatever’s weighing on him or preparing for the board meeting.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck fielding calls, setting up the conference room, and arranging the usual spread full of danishes and coffee that these executives seem to consider essential to their existence.
Minutes before his first meeting of the day, he finally emerges from his office, scowly and perturbed like a bear coming out of hibernation. Our eyes meet, and straightaway I’m back in his car, pressed against his chest and folded in the safety of his arms.
He has to be the man I saw at the theater.
My body seems to know whenever he’s around, buzzing like he’s holding some type of live wire whenever we’re within a certain distance.
The man at the theater also looked like Theo with his dark hair, black suit, and towering height.
Technically, that could describe a quarter of the men in this city.
Something about this person made me feel like it was him, Theo, specifically.
With him being the one buying the theater, it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibilities.
“Hey, were you at my show last night?” I blurt out, not even thinking twice.
He freezes. “What?”
I’ve never seen a man look more appalled than Theo is right now. Apparently, my intuition is severely off.
“I swear I saw you, but obviously, that would be crazy.” I wave a hand like I’m trying to erase the question entirely, which I absolutely wish I could. “Forget I asked.”
“It’s fine,” is all he says, dismissing the topic as the elevator doors slide open.
Mrs. O’Connor, with her signature silver hair styled to perfection, feebly steps out of the elevator.
Theo falls into step beside the older woman, offering his arm to her frail one, as they head toward the conference room.
Soon, a steady stream of board members follows.
Tight smiles. Suits. An obscene amount of overpriced cologne.
All fifteen board members arrive according to our check-in list, except for Holden Prescott. A man I’ve never met, but am guessing is related to Theo, considering he has the same last name.
The meeting is already in full swing by the time he arrives, fully taking his time, not a care in the world that he’s late.
He’s decked in slacks and a button-up, miles more relaxed than the other men’s full-on suits.
The man is exactly Theo’s very chill doppelganger.
And by the looks of his slightly overgrown stubble, disheveled hair, and the mischievous smirk etched onto his face, his personality is the complete opposite of his brother too.
The man leans over my desk, flashing me a picture-perfect smile full of straight white teeth. “Well, hi. Theo didn’t tell me he got a new assistant.”
“He probably didn’t mention it since he goes through so many. It’d be too tedious to tell you each time.”
He throws back his head with an amused laugh and extends his hand. “I’m Holden, Theo’s younger brother. I can tell we’ll get along.”
I shake his hand. “I’ve only known you for two seconds, and somehow I get the feeling you’re right. You and your brother seem to be complete opposites.”
“Theo is …” he mutters out the side of his mouth, “a complete asshole.” Holden glances over his shoulder to the conference room to ensure his brother doesn’t have supersonic hearing.
“He also is the best person I know, so don’t let him fool you.
When he’s tough, he’s all rough edges. But …
he’s been through a lot. You’d be surprised to know that behind that Ebenezer Scrooge front, he’s actually a decent human being. ”
“I’ll take your word for it. You know, I didn’t even know he had a brother. I was getting only child vibes from him.”
Holden’s jaw drops, aghast. “He didn’t tell you about me?”
“To be fair, he hasn’t told me anything remotely personal,” I reply.
His phone makes an obnoxiously harmonious bell sound from inside his pocket, startling us both. Fishing it out, he chuckles and turns the phone screen to me to read it.
Theo
You’re late. Stop socializing and get your ass in here.
“Oof, guess I better head in. I don’t want him to kill me any further than he already is planning to. I have a hot date tonight that I can’t be dead for,” Holden says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Well, unless your date is into necrophilia, you better get your ass in there as instructed.”
I can totally see myself being friends with this man. If anything, I’ve found the male version of myself. Someone equally as unserious and unfiltered, who understands Theo’s moodiness and has firsthand experience of being surrounded by it on a daily basis.
I follow him into the conference room, ready to take notes now that everyone has arrived.
The meeting pauses as people say their hellos to Holden, while I slip quietly into the chair across from Theo.
I’m going to take a wild guess and say no one wanted this particular seat because it is a danger zone directly in front of his deadly stare.
Sort of like a fucked-up version of a splash zone at a water show, but much less fun.
Throughout the rest of the meeting, I can feel Theo’s eyes on me from time to time.
Staring, assessing, most likely judging, as if I’m some sort of equation he can’t mentally piece together.