Chapter 23
Kaisa
The ballroom has been transformed into a whole other world.
Twinkling lights shimmer like stars high above.
Silver and gold tablecloths adorn the dozens of round tables scattered around the edge of the dance floor, displaying centerpieces of snow globes and candles.
Evergreen garlands are draped and wrapped around every column and railing.
But the magic ends there because the dress rehearsal is going terribly.
Which is fine. It’s bad luck for the dress rehearsal to run smoothly, so I welcome the missed entrances, Isla’s broken shoe strap, and one of the athletes slipping and falling during the group number.
He was uninjured and laughed it off.
Everything’s fine.
Except for the look in Ledger’s eyes.
It’s crazy how something I was so sure of just a few hours ago, that we needed to avoid the topic of “us” today, is quickly becoming a huge regret. I know he’s hurting. I’m hurting.
I wish I’d said more—something encouraging and honest. But flashbacks of the damage done to my career by falling for Kale and my bad luck on Lights, Camera, Dance! since then made me wary.
Here we go again, I’d thought. So I froze, and without wanting to at all, I slipped back into my professional-at-all-costs mode. I couldn’t go through that all over again.
Despite knowing, deep down, that I was putting my future with Ledger at great risk.
I’d just started to explore the exciting thoughts of a possible future with Ledger, but then San Antonio happened and I chided myself for allowing that dream to germinate.
Now? Ledger’s keeping me at arm’s length. I don’t blame him—but it’s killing me. And I can’t let it. I must focus on the performance.
Our number is the final solo of the night and then everyone comes onstage for our dynamic group dance, but now, as we’re in the dress rehearsal, in our costumes and under the lights, a shadow has fallen over us.
“You remember when I said we had to really turn on the chemistry?” I say in a low voice as we go through the movements that have become second nature.
A quick dip and then a ronde jamb and our eyes meet. “Yeah,” he says. He could just be nervous. Or sad. Or both.
“Well, now’s the time,” I say, my gaze locked with his. “I’m gonna need more feeling behind your performance tonight.”
His gaze goes up and down me. “You got it,” he murmurs, but his stare is blank.
Hollow. Extending one arm, the other one curls around my waist, and he stabilizes himself for the lift.
I squeeze my eyes shut for one brief moment in the lurch of pressure, and then there’s the rush of air and I’m flying—my body in the wind.
His enormous muscles are carrying me like I’m weightless.
We finish the dance, do our bows, and he escorts me off stage, just like we rehearsed.
“Ledger, I—”
“We can’t miss our cue,” he warns, just off stage, next to the gel light trees.
He’s right. We have to go back on soon. There isn’t time for me to apologize about shutting him down. Or for me to tell him how I feel.
Please don’t let it be too late.
“Welcome to the Mynt to Make a Difference Charity Ball!” Mr. Mynt says behind a microphone and to a packed ballroom. He’s in a red velvet tuxedo with white lapels. Over the top, but it fits his whole essence perfectly.
We, the dancers and athletes, are backstage, waiting in the wings.
I press my palms down my pink, lacy, sequined dress.
I know Wynn’s out there in the audience.
He’s expecting to see all of us shine. This whole thing seems to have been an audition of sorts for next season, which makes my heart hammer out of my chest.
“Welcome to the Peppermynt Twist Showdown, featuring elite athletes from around the country and the cast of the hit television show, Lights, Camera, Dance!”
Then, the announcer introduces all the couples one by one, so when our names are called, we dance our way onto the floor and up the steps to the raised platform stage in the middle of the ballroom.
The crowd goes wild. It’s exhilarating and I’m reminded for the thousandth time why I love performing so much.
But nothing can overcome this sense of sadness and regret over the wedge between Ledger and me.
When I’m not onstage, I’m directing things backstage, so once again, I swallow my pain in the busyness of the show. And far too quickly, it’s time for Ledger and I to take the stage for our solo. He’s behind me as we wait in the wings one more eight count for our music to start.
“The makeup’s a little much,” he whispers, pointing to his bronzed, glittery chest.
I turn around and bite back a laugh. “You look amazing.” I catch his gaze, pleading with my own. Pleading for what, I’m not sure. Maybe just for a hope that this doesn’t have to be goodbye.
“Break a leg,” Ledger says. I turn to meet his gaze, the rawness between us tangible.
“You too, Farm Boy.”
A slight smile flashes briefly across his face, my heart lifts, and then he grabs my hand and escorts me onstage to deafening applause. My pulse thuds in my ears.
I’ve never been this nervous for a performance before, and I realize, suddenly, that it has nothing to do with Wynn or my future on the show. It has everything to do with wanting, desperately, for Ledger to understand that I’m falling for him, that I need and want him in my life.
I don’t care if we win or lose. I’m just devastated we’re both leaving Winterbrook in the morning—separately.
We hit our opening pose and wait for our song to start—that impossibly sultry, romantic, lonesome, instrumental version of “Please Come Home for Christmas.”
Blast whoever chose this music. I might actually cry here and now, not because I’m going to be alone on Christmas again, but because Ledger and I are going to be six hundred miles apart. When can I explain to him how I feel?
His molten chocolate eyes never leave mine as we go through the steps, yet I can tell he’s holding back, emotionally. There’s a slate over them…a protection.
“Breathe,” I whisper as we sway back and forth and then he spins me out in another triple turn.
“You should breathe, too,” he quietly chides.
“Now you’re offering me advice?”
“Something like that.” He smiles and then the slate over his eyes returns as we continue our second set of cucarachas—the figure-eight hip rotations that he’s gotten down so well.
No. He’s got that wall up again. I ache for him to know that he doesn’t need to do that anymore.
“Ledger,” I say breathlessly while we’re in an embrace. The slow, bluesy tune thrums against my heartstrings, reverberating through me. “I’m sorry. For everything,” I whisper.
There’s a hitch in his breath before he leads me through the next sequence of moves, but when we’re close to one another again, wrapped in a tight, swaying embrace, I continue to speak in his ear. “I really like you. Please don’t let tonight’s goodbye be a permanent one.”
And then, everything changes.
Suddenly, the audience on all sides of us goes away and it’s just me and him, bathed in bright, shimmering, colorful light.
The music floods over us. We’re transfixed on the spot and as we continue to dance.
We’re so in sync, I barely know where his body ends and mine begins.
His eyes widen, his mouth drops open, just a little.
An intake of air, of wonder and delight.
In this moment, my soul is glued to his.
He doesn’t answer…at least not verbally. But somehow, I wonder if he’s saying yes. I’m bleeding from my heart here on this dance floor, every bit of my movement oozing my love for him.
Our connection, razor sharp, coils back into reality. We’re soaring. Tumbling, fumbling, slamming into love.
And now the whole world must be able to see it.