30. Delaney
DELANEY
“And five, six, seven, eight.”
The choreographer counts me in, and I run through the steps for what feels like the millionth time. My dancing abilities have always been a smidge above passable, but today I look like I have two left feet.
I took a red-eye flight out and met my team bright and early at The Valley this morning. I have one day to get my set performance-ready, and presently, as I struggle to catch my breath after three songs, that seems like an impossible task.
I can see the headlines.
Delaney James: Unfocused, Uncoordinated, and Out of Shape.
And none of that criticism would be wrong.
I should be focused on my comeback performance, but I can’t get the look on Connor’s face out of my mind, the strong, happy, hardworking man, the man I’ve always loved, looking so utterly shattered in front of me.
My dad had cancer.
With those words, all the pieces fell into place. Reggie moving to town and turning over the orchard over to Connor. The unmistakable protective edge Connor carries around his dad. Connor’s reluctant but steady commitment to the family land.
It all makes sense now.
While I was out in L.A. building my career, Connor was home in Ridgecrest, barely an adult, shouldering the weight of caregiving on his own. I should have known that something was wrong. I should have reached out more, should have pushed harder, should have come home.
He went silent, and now I understand why.
The rising regret sits heavily in my chest, and I rub my sternum in a futile attempt to quell my unease. Before the fake dating, before the damage control, before falling in love with him, Connor was my best friend and my heart aches for all the years we can’t get back.
Returning to Ridgecrest was supposed to be a punishment, a reality check, a last-ditch effort to save my career.
It wasn’t supposed to break my heart.
“Good grief Delaney, didn’t realize we’d be starting from zero. Why didn’t you keep up with your cardio while you were back in Ridgecrest?”
My dad groans from his perch just beyond the stage, bringing me back to my present, hellacious reality. Like a fucking vulture, he’s always ready to swoop in and pick me apart when I’m at my lowest.
“I went for a run nearly every day, Dad,” I say, far too quick to defend myself. “I’ll get it together. Don't worry.”
He huffs and stomps off somewhere backstage, phone in hand, no doubt planning my next career-saving move.
I can’t decide which is more humiliating: the way he criticizes me in front of other people, or the fact that I always seem to come crawling back for more.
Both, I decide. Both are equally humiliating.
I wobble off the stage like a baby giraffe, making a mental note to talk to wardrobe about lower heels.
My publicist, Remi, meets me in my dressing room with a wide, fake grin on her face.
“Nice work out there, kid.”
“Bullshit. You sure you were watching my rehearsal and not Molly Jo’s?” I grumble, wiping sweat off my face with a towel. “Remi, this is such a disaster. I don’t know why I thought headlining The Valley after months off was a good idea. I can’t wait to see what the media has to say about this.”
I dramatically plop down onto one of the lounge chairs in my dressing room.
Remi nods thoughtfully, brows creasing to highlight the wrinkles I have probably caused over the years.
“Ah, I see. And how do you feel about that?”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “Who are you, my therapist?”
Remi laughs, “No. I was trying to be a friend, but nevermind.”
I point a finger at her. “Can’t be my friend if you’re on payroll.”
“So that leaves you with a grand total of… zero friends?”
“I’ve got Matty,” I counter.
“Who pulls a paycheck for running your socials,” Remi fires back.
Fuck. She's right.
“I have other friends back home,” I mumble out, the word home catching in my throat. Now that I’ve blown everything up with Connor, I don’t think I can ever call Ridgecrest my home again.
Someone from wardrobe pops their head into the room to drop off my outfit, saving me from having to explain myself further.
“Thank you,” I say, taking in the sparkles and rhinestones adorning a very skimpy looking bodysuit. A far cry from the jeans and T-shirts I’ve grown accustomed to wearing in Ridgecrest. “And any chance y’all have a pair of shoes with a lower heel?”
I hold out the six inch stilettos that nearly did me in.
The wardrobe assistant winces, like my shoe preference is a personal insult, but dutifully takes the offending shoes.
Remi shakes her head. “I knew going back to your hometown would shake things up, but I didn’t realize you’d come back a completely different person. Shooing away a pair of Louboutins? Who are you, and what did you do with Delaney?”
I sink deeper into the plush armchair. “Same old me, Remi. I just don’t feel like performing on fucking stilts.”
But that’s a lie.
Returning to Ridgecrest changed me. It left a mark on me as permanent as a tattoo. Somewhere in the middle of crappy cups of coffee, making copies of sheet music, and corralling groups of high schoolers, I fell in love with life again.
Years of creeping apathy finally caught up with me, and now I can’t unsee how miserable I was. Going through the motions, pantomiming a life I thought would make me happy, when in reality, I hadn’t been happy in a long time.
Add in falling in love with Connor to the mix, and it’s safe to say I’ll never be the same again.
Remi crosses her arms and surveys the room. “You know, all these years, and I’ve never seen you eat those Lucky Charms.”
“Oh yeah,” I say absentmindedly, scrolling through my phone. “They’re not for me.”
“Okay, diva. Why do you insist on having them then? ”
"They're for Connor,” I say, still only half paying attention.
Remi scoots a folding chair near me and drops her hand to mine. “You’ve been keeping a snack in your dressing room for Connor, your childhood best friend, for a decade?”
I finally look up from my phone, sliding my hand out from under hers. “Um, yes?”
Remi suddenly goes teary eyed. The forty-something woman, who’s been on my ass like a drill sergeant for ten years is turning into a blubbering mess in front of me, all because of a box of cereal.
“Oh my God.” she clutches her chest. “I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!”
“It’s really nothing,” I assure her. “Just a running joke at this point.”
She pins me with a look that I’ve seen a million times from her before, her no-bullshit stare.
“Keeping a box of Connor’s favorite cereal in your dressing room, just in case he shows up, is not a joke. I’ve created so many NDA’s for your one night stands, wondering why none of them stuck around to see what a talented, kind person you are, and now I get it! It’s been Connor this whole time.”
A pit forms in my stomach and my heart starts to beat a little faster. Because she’s right. It’s always been him. And the kind of connection Connor and I have isn’t something you just walk away from.
But I did.
And it’s looking like the biggest mistake of my life with every passing minute.
“You know,” Remi says softly, “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to keep chasing a dream that isn’t yours. The approval you’re looking for is never going to come. There will never be a day when you’ve finally done enough to please everyone else.”
She gestures around the room, gaze lingering on the ridiculous costume.
“You can walk away. I’ve seen your financials. You’re set for life, even if you break the outstanding contracts. You don’t have to stay in this world that you hate when you’ve found something, or someone, you love somewhere else.”
My racing heart slams to a stop, a familiar war erupts in my mind.
“But this,” I mimic her hand motion, “this is it. I’ve worked so hard to get here. I don’t know how to be anything other than this. I’ve played the game for so long… who am I if I walk away now?”
Remi shrugs.
“I can’t answer that for you. But that night back in August?
On tour? I found out later that Molly Jo was having a panic attack and that’s why you stayed on stage longer, to give her extra time to recover.
You were covering for her. You’ve got a good heart, Delaney.
You always have even if the media likes to twist it otherwise. Maybe it’s time to show the real you.”