Epilogue
June
Nine Months Later
You’ll Never Walk Alone - Carousel
I hunch over my phone screen, editing another TikTok of Nick and I singing together, “Shadowboxer” by Fiona Apple.
When I finish, I double-check the timetable for coach buses back to Sadlersburg.
I’ll miss New York City in the summer, but I’m thrilled for the climate-controlled accommodations at Conservatory.
Hannah texts, asking when we’re getting in and if we’ll be at Shaker’s tomorrow. I can’t wait to give her the biggest hug after her year from hell. She almost decided not to come back this summer because of her injury, but I talked Nat into hiring her as the musical’s choreographer.
Feet echo in the stairwell outside of our third-floor walk-up in Queens. The metal-on-metal sound of a key turning in the lock has me on my feet.
Nick opens the door, drops his messenger bag, and scoops me into a hug.
“Ew, get off me, you’re sweaty.” I push at his shoulder, but it’s half-hearted.
“You didn’t mind last night,” he murmurs against the skin of my shoulder before wiping his forehead across it.
I shriek from the cooling sweat and he grabs me tighter. “I can’t wait for air conditioning.”
“I like you sweaty.” He releases me, already pulling his T-shirt over his head. His eyes pin me to the spot as his voice dips, low and melodic. “Want to shower with me before we go?”
My mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest. A cold shower might cool us off, but it won’t quell the heat threading through me every time Nick looks at me like that . “If we shower together, we’ll definitely be late.”
His fingers flirt with the hem of my tank top. “I can be quick.”
“No, you can’t.” I laugh.
He kisses me, stealing my laughter. “You’re right, I can’t.” His mouth slides to a spot beneath my jaw. “There’s always another bus.”
Nick moved in after Conservatory ended last year, and I waited for this all-consuming need to subside, for the honeymoon phase to end. But I want him as much, if not more, than that first night when he took me back to Atch after Shaker’s.
I’d wanted him to kiss me so badly, and now I get to kiss him whenever I want. So I do. A quick peck before replying, “Your dad and Shelley just got back from their honeymoon, so you know Mom’s got to have her big family dinner.”
They tied the knot a few weeks ago and traveled all the way to California for their honeymoon, and for Shelley to visit her son, Greyson. He and Nick were Don’s groomsmen.
Nick sighs over the family dinner, but he smiles. Don and Shelley, and my parents, have become fast friends.
“But I’ve barely gotten to see you the past couple weeks,” Nick complains, rubbing small circles with his thumbs against the skin under my tank top. Oooh, he’s playing dirty.
When Nick moved last fall, Nat hooked him up with a gig playing rehearsal piano for a new Broadway show. Of course the director loved Nick. Who wouldn’t? And offered him a spot playing in the pit when the show officially opened.
My return to the city got off to a rocky start, however. I fired Helen and found a new agent who agreed not to send me on any touring auditions.
I took Nat’s job offer of assistant directing The Crucible .
I was worried directing grown-ups would be different from directing teenagers, but it turns out actors are drama queens no matter their age.
Nat was still back and forth from Florida, but we video chatted a lot, and she was always there for me.
I also took acting classes, spent time stretching and growing my craft. And in the winter, I landed a role in an experimental straight theatre production Off-Off-Broadway.
But my proudest accomplishment is my teaching gig through Actor Therapy where I coach actors on musical audition pieces. I’ll genuinely miss my students at AT this summer, but I’m excited to teach Conservatory campers again. Hopefully with less TikTok drama.
I need these next six weeks so I can slow down, take a breath, and spend more time with my boyfriend.
“We have all summer.” I sigh, steering Nick to our bathroom and wiggling my eyebrows. “In the fancy faculty housing this year. So you can wait a few hours before getting me into bed.”
“What if I want you somewhere other than our bed?” He turns the shower on, then lets his hand trail from his stomach to the buttons on his jeans, popping them one by one.
I can’t even swallow.
“Like up against the shower stall, soaking wet.” He smirks, running a hand through his hair, so confident his little striptease will work.
And damn it, he’s right.
“Maybe taking the next bus isn’t so bad.” I can’t keep my eyes off the V of muscle leading to his hips, slowly revealed from his undone jeans.
Nick saunters closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, cradling my head. His words are quiet over the hum of the shower. “Still plenty of time to make it to dinner.”
“Screw it.” I whip my tank top over my head and launch myself at him.
“I’m trying to.” He laughs, maneuvering us closer to the shower.
My giggle is breathy despite his terrible joke. But my mirth is replaced with burning need as Nick drops to his knees and tugs my shorts and underwear down my thighs. He kisses my soft stomach, breath warm against my core, before he looks up at me. “My very favorite view.”
I lick my lips, fingers combing through his wavy hair.
His eyes darken with need, and he keeps them trained on mine as he presses his mouth to the juncture of my thighs.
My muscles tighten, then turn loose, and I quiver all over.
“If we’re going to shower, maybe we should actually, you know, shower. ”
“You’re right.” He stands, picking me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “Seeing you dripping wet, soaked and hot from the shower, that’s my favorite view.”
I smile against his shoulder, my cheeks aching from the happiness of this past year.
Nick runs his teeth across my collarbone and I gasp, not only from the toe-tingling sensation.
I did it.
My life has become The Plan I clung to for so long. But I learned what’s truly important. It’s not the prestige of the job or the apartment. It’s a life I choose, brimming with passion, creativity, and love.
And I can’t imagine sharing it with anyone else.
THE END