Chapter Thirty-Three #2
A crack of thunder boomed directly overhead, so loud it rattled the chandelier. A few audience members squealed.
The storm wasn’t just on top of them—it was inside Annie, electrifying every nerve.
Garrett’s voice cut through the chaos. “We’re having an issue with reception.” He held up his phone. Zero bars. “There is none.”
Next to her, Zoe was all but hyperventilating.
“Calm down, dear,” Jazz soothed. She was dressed head to toe in shimmering gold, from her muumuu to a pair of glittery sneakers.
“We can do this, Zoe,” Annie promised, deeply unsure that they could.
Zoe grabbed the front of Annie’s costume. “Don’t make me do this. My whole family is out there and three casting agents. If they see me bomb, I’ll never get another shot.”
“But the show must go on,” Jazz said, as if it was obvious. “It simply must.”
But Lola was gone. Zoe was panicking. The earbud plan was a bust.
Annie found Vicky’s eye, then Dylan’s. Slowly, Vicky shook her head. Dylan folded their arms and let out a long sigh of defeat.
“Jazz,” Annie said quietly. “It’s over.”
Jazz stared back uncomprehendingly.
Beyond the curtains, a playful chant had started. “We want the show! We want the show!”
“We can’t make Zoe do it if she doesn’t want to,” Annie said. “We have to cancel.”
“What?” Jazz choked out a disbelieving laugh. “But we’re so close. Everyone came.” She waved a hand in the direction of the sold-out audience, then at the gathered cast. “We’re all ready.”
The chant gathered momentum. “We want the show! We want the show!”
“But we can’t do it without Lola,” Annie said. She looked around the cast, wondering if they’d push back or if someone had a last-minute solution. But no one did. They just looked resigned, faces slackening into despair.
Annie fortified herself. The idea of stepping onstage to disappoint three hundred people, many of whom she cared about, was her own personal nightmare. But this was her responsibility. “I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” Jazz asked, the color draining from her face.
“I’ll tell the audience we’re unable to do the show,” Annie said.
Jazz’s eyes filled with tears.
Mikki let out a sob, turning into Jamie, who was stone-faced. Clyde swallowed hard.
All their work. Their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Gone.
Annie took a breath, pushed back the curtain, and stepped out onto the stage.
The crowd erupted into joyful applause, a sound so sudden and loud, Annie stumbled back. The stage lights were blinding. She winced, raising a hand to shield her eyes. “Uh, hi…” Her tiny words were swallowed up by the cheers of the frothing crowd.
A supercut of the past month flickered in Annie’s mind: the shaky table read. Maria singing “A Natural Woman.” Awkward rehearsals turning into magic. The way the whole production came alive.
Lola storming off.
Everything falling apart.
The crowd began shushing itself until the applause died out, giving way to a suffocating attentiveness. Annie cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak. “I’m, um, Annie Lightfoot,” she began.
“Go Annie!” someone yelled, prompting a wave of supportive laughter.
Stoically, Annie continued, “And I’m here to tell you that…”
The play was off due to a…casting issue? Personal emergency? Another pandemic?
“That…” Annie went on. The room was pin-drop quiet, hanging on her every word. “Well…that the play is—”
The doors to the theater burst open, banging loudly. The audience jerked in the direction of the sound.
A strong female voice rocketed into the room. “Wait!”
Annie’s heart stopped. Rain-soaked and breathless, Lola, in full costume, sprinted up the aisle.
The audience erupted in delighted applause, mistaking it for part of the show.
Lola ran up the stage steps, joining Annie. She was shaking with adrenaline. For one breathless moment, it was just the two of them, standing together in the storm’s eye. Then Lola addressed the crowd. “Sit tight, folks! The play is about to begin!”
She grabbed Annie’s hand, tugging her behind the curtain, backstage.
There, Annie could only blink at her, overwhelmed. She wondered if she was dreaming. “You came back.”
“I had to.” Lola’s eyes were wide, frantic, burning gold. “I had to be with you.”
“Thank god!” Zoe had transformed from panicked to overjoyed, hugging Lola with a squeal. “I need to change costumes!” She bolted off, flanked by the teens.
“I knew it!” Jazz declared, one finger jabbing the air, bangles jangling. “I knew you’d come back!”
“You’re doing the show?” Garrett confirmed.
“No, I flew from London for the free popcorn,” Lola deadpanned. “Of course I’m doing the show! I’ve been trying to call. I couldn’t get a signal with the storm!”
“Thank Britney!” Garrett moaned, tossing an earbud into the wings. “Then, places! Let’s start before this audience eats us alive!”
Annie was speechless. Her heart was staging a full-blown production, complete with fog machines and overture.
Vicky swooped in with a towel to dry Lola off, straighten her costume. “Your timing is impeccable.”
“Actors,” Dylan added, rolling their eyes and socking Lola’s arm. “Always making an entrance.”
Lola gave them both a grateful, apologetic smile, before turning her full attention to Annie, taking her hands.
Despite the swirling chaos, despite the noisy audience, despite the prospect of the two-hour play ahead, all of her attention was poured solely onto Annie.
“Annie, I am so, so sorry,” Lola said. “I never should’ve left.
I never should’ve invited you to London as my assistant. God, what was I thinking?”
“Hey, I’m the one who lied. Who also said some pretty terrible things.” Annie squeezed Lola’s hands tight, her heart still pounding. The apology speech she’d dared to imagine fled her brain. All she could manage was, “I totally shit the bed and I’m sorry, too.”
“You were right, Annie,” Lola said. “I don’t want that life. I want this one. With you.” Her hazel eyes shone with courage and truth. “I was scared. Of what that meant. Of admitting how wrong I’d been. But I’m not scared anymore.”
Annie let out a shaky breath, blinking fast. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” she admitted.
“I try so hard to make everything okay, keep everyone happy, because it’s like—if I mess up, they’ll leave.
Or think less of me. Or…” She wiped at her eyes.
“Sometimes I shrink myself down so small trying not to be a problem that I forget how to be a person. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to disappear.”
Lola’s voice stayed steady. “And I’m going to work on trusting my gut. And trusting what we have—what we are. You and me—we’re the story I want to tell for the rest of my life. When I’m with you, I know what home is.”
Annie let out a hiccupping laugh, her heart overflowing. “You’re my home, too,” she whispered. “You always were.”
Lola let go of Annie’s hands to frame her face with both palms, gazing intently into her eyes. The rest of the world faded into static as Lola spoke, her words firm and clear. “Annie, I love you. I should’ve said it much earlier but I’m saying it now. I’m sorry and I love you.”
Warm, golden light gushed into every cell of Annie’s body. “I love you, too, Lollie,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”
Lola leaned forward, pressing her lips to Annie’s. For a few beautiful seconds, Annie sank into the sweetest kiss of her life, the world spinning away until it was just the two of them, tethered together.
Everything became clear.
It had never been a big, bold life she’d wanted. It had never been a big, bold life that felt like it passed her by.
What she’d wanted—what she’d dared to hope for—was a big, bold love.
A love that was right here, in her arms. A love she would spend the rest of her life protecting and growing and cherishing as best she could.
They broke apart, smiling big, giddy grins, then swiveled to face the curtain. Find their marks. Focus.
“Ready?” Lola asked.
When Annie answered, she wasn’t just talking about the play. She was talking about everything that lay ahead. “I am.”
The opening music played.
A hush fell over the playhouse.
The tall, red curtain swept aside.
Lola and Annie stepped forward, into the light. Together, they began.