Chapter 42 Scottie
Scottie
A LITTLE ADVENTURE NEVER HURT
I’m being haunted by men in man buns.
Not literally, but it sure as hell feels like it.
Every time I spot one—even from a mile away, even in my peripheral vision—my heart jumps. Just for a second. Just long enough to fuck me up.
Because for that one beat, I think it’s Gavin.
And it never is.
I’m two weeks into my eight-week contract and so far I love it. The schedule is intense, the cast is great, and best of all no one is a perverted asshole.
But as much as I love it, my heart aches for who I left behind.
I don’t regret coming. I needed to do this—for me, for the work I put in to get here, to prove that I could step away from the stage not because I was forced to but because I chose to.
But God, I miss him.
Like aching-in-my-bones miss him.
We talk all the time, but the past few days he’s been quieter, more distant.
And I can’t help but feel that maybe he’s losing interest in me.
It’s easy to move on from someone who’s not around, and being two thousand miles away, I may as well be in another country—a different planet.
The time difference is tough too, especially now that his work schedule changed for harvest.
But I can’t dwell on that now. It’s almost showtime.
Tonight is a packed show. Fridays are always a busy night.
I stand in the wings, waiting for our cue, bouncing my knee to keep the bundle of nerves I always feel right before I step out.
The house lights dim, and we walk out to applause.
I’ve gotten in this torturous little habit of looking for Gavin in the audience, like some part of me thinks he might surprise me and make it to a show. But I know he’s busy, and can’t get away. Still, my eyes sweep over the audience.
And they stop third row center.
Same shoulders. Same hair, pulled into that stupid sexy bun.
But it’s not him.
He would’ve told me. I’m sure of it.
And I’d prefer to not ruin my own night assuming he’s in the crowd only to get disappointed when the house lights flip back on.
It’s gotten to the point that I see him everywhere. My brain is playing tricks on me.
I force myself to look away, lock in, and do my job.
The set goes well, smoother than usual. I hit my cues and get some laughs.
But every few minutes, my gaze drags back to third row center.
And the shadowy figure of whoever is sitting in the seat and watching me. Or at least that’s what it feels like.
When the show ends, I head backstage, and peel off my mic.
A few of my castmates invite me to get drinks at the bar across the street, but I turn them down. I wouldn’t be any fun to around anyway.
“Have a safe night, miss,” the security guard says to me as I exit the back alley.
“Night, Cliff.” I toss him a wave before digging through my bag so I can call Gavin like I always do when I walk from the theater to my car.
Usually he picks up on the second ring, but now it’s ring number four and he still hasn’t picked up.
I swallow, trying to ignore that familiar drop in my stomach. Maybe he really is losing interest.
By the six ring, not only is he not picking up but someone nearby is getting a phone call and it’s completely messing with my ears.
The call connects, and it’s embarrassing how quickly my chest fills with warmth.
“Hey,” he says, but it comes out sounding weird like there’s an echo, or he’s on some busy street.
“Hold on,” I say. “You sound really strange. Let me just—”
“Turn around.”
My steps falter.
“Turn around, starlet.”
“What?” I breathe.
I freeze completely.
My heart launches straight into my throat, pulse hammering so hard it’s all I can hear.
Slowly—because I’m terrified that I’m imagining this, that I’ll turn around and it’ll be no one. My heart is too fragile for the crash if he’s not there.
But when I turn around, he’s there.
I blink a few times just to make sure it’s all real.
Standing under the flickering streetlamp across the alley, hands in his jacket pockets, hair pulled up, same sexy glasses.
He’s real. And he’s here.
The phone slips from my hand and I don’t even care that it clatters onto the pavement because I’m already moving. Half-running. Half-sobbing. And suddenly I’m in his arms.
He catches me, and it’s like landing home. My legs wind around his waist, arms cross at his neck. I breathe him in and he smells like pine, and soap, and wine, and Red Mountain, and I want to cry.
His hands slide up my back, my shoulders, like he needs to feel me all at once. I bury myself in him, kissing him everywhere. His neck, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, before finally capturing his lips with mine.
I pull back, cradling his jaw in my hands, brushing my thumbs over the scruff of his beard. “What are you doing here.”
He smiles. “I missed you.”
I laugh, but it’s half-cry. “I missed you too.”
He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before his fingers slide down to my neck, tracing the edge of my collarbone. “You were incredible,” he murmurs, his voice rough and quiet.
My breath catches. “So it was you in the third row. I knew it.”
He grins, a knowing curl of his mouth. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
The sound of a little throat clearing draws my attention to the sidewalk below.
Lily is staring up at me, all blue eyes, her backpack still on like they came straight from the airport.
“Are you guys done?” she asks, tilting her head. “It’s gross.”
A laugh bursts out of me as I hop off Gavin and crouch down to give Lily a hug.
“Surprise!” she says, bouncing on her toes.
I squeeze her tight. “Oh my gosh, I missed you so much.”
“We came on a really big plane,” she tells me proudly. “And Dad said we could live here for a little bit so we can watch all your shows and so you won’t miss us too much.”
I straighten and look at Gavin.
He watches me, wearing one of his easy grins, looking totally relaxed, like his daughter didn’t just drop a bomb on me.
“We found a place by the theater.”
“For how long?” I don’t want to get my hopes up when it could just be a weekend.
“Two months with an option to extend.”
My head rears back, throat closing on the spot.
“But what about work and Lily’s school and…everything?”
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s the furthest thing from nothing.
My laugh spills out again. I’m in disbelief. Shock.
Gavin steps closer, wearing a satisfied smile. “My family can cover work, and I’m pretty sure Chicago has schools if we end up staying longer, and,” he pauses, coming forward to cup my jaw, “you’re everything. You and me and Lily, that’s all I need.”
The lump in my throat is impossible to swallow down.
He didn’t just show up. He’s staying.
“Gavin,” I whisper, voice breaking.
He rest his forehead against mine, breath warm against my lips. “You didn’t think I’d really be able to stay away from you this long, did you?”
“I didn’t want to ask you to uproot everything,” I admit. “I didn’t want to be selfish. Especially because it’s only for a little while.”
His thumbs sweep across my cheekbones. “I’m a wreck without you.” He pulls back, grinning. “Besides, a little adventure never hurt.”
Lily grabs my hand and starts tugging me away from Gavin. “Everyone is staring,” Lily groans, her cheeks bright pink.
Gavin laughs. “Lily Bear, are you embarrassed?”
“Yesss,” she drawls.
Gavin and I exchange an amused look.
“Get used to it, bear.” He ruffles her hair and she squeals, ducking out of reach.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but it’s useless. One look at Gavin and we both lose it.
“Can we go now?” Lily huffs, grabbing my hand again. “Let’s show her the apartment.”
Gavin slides in on my other side, his hand finding mine, fingers curling. Lily’s smaller hand is still tugging on my other, impatient and proud.
The three of us walk down the Chicago sidewalk, hand in hand, off to start an adventure.
We spend the next six weeks living like locals and tourists and a family all at once.
We take Lily to the Field Museum, where she runs from exhibit to exhibit, getting us kicked out.
We ride the L, Lily hating every minute of it, saying she prefers to walk than to be on a smelly train.
We eat hot dogs by the river—well, Lily and I do. Gavin refuses, claiming they have too many additives.
We watch improv shows, plays, stand-up, ballets, even the opera.
We walk the city at night, my hand tucked into his pocket because it’s cold and because I can.
On my final night on stage, I step into the spotlight knowing I’m choosing to leave this time.
Not by force. Not running. Not failing. Choosing.
And when I walk off, Gavin is there, waiting.
Like he always is.
Like he always will be.