Chapter Sixty-Eight
‘Fantastic performance, Miss Adams,’ Mrs Green said, stepping forwards to place the back of her doughy hand against Ava’s cheek as she walked from the wings. ‘Patience agrees!’
Patience looked far more interested in squirming from Mrs Green’s arms than anything else.
‘Thank you, Mrs Green,’ Ava said, reaching to rub a little line into the soft fur of Patience’s head. ‘And thank you, Patience.’
Patience, determined as ever not to live up to her name, finally struggled free from Mrs Green’s iron grip and fled towards the dressing rooms.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake – Roger? Roger! She’s off again!’
Mrs Green began racing after the little dog, and Ava followed, though as Mrs Green barrelled towards the clothing racks Ava veered left, towards her mother’s dressing room – and the quiet sanctuary it promised.
She closed the door on the sea of noise erupting from the dressing room – Patience’s barks and Mrs Green’s breathless shouts – and heaved a deep breath into her lungs, her eyes squeezed shut, her forehead pressed to the wood.
She would go to the foyer soon enough – for her family would be waiting for her, but for now she let the ache inside her spill out, let it grip her – for she knew the one person she wanted to share this with wouldn’t be waiting for her there.
‘Ava.’
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, her breath stilling in her throat, but she did not dare to turn around – for this was the same, untethered feeling she always felt in her dreams, that same thrum of longing as she reached out to clasp that which she wanted most – only to awaken to find herself far from her bed, alone and bewildered.
‘Ava …?’
She turned.
Damien was standing by her dressing table.
His dark hair was windswept, and tendrils of it clung to his face, kissing his cheek, his jaw.
His chest heaved as he walked towards her, his collar askew, his silver spectacles fogged from the theatre’s warmth.
She couldn’t see his green eyes but she could feel them – could feel his gaze upon her, as if they two were the only people in this room, this theatre, this world.
‘Damien. It’s really you. You’re really here.’
Her voice was a breath. A whisper, and the fear that’d pricked at her for days finally melted, dissolving like ash on the wind as he stepped towards her, clasping her hands as though he never wanted to let go.
‘I’m sorry.’ He swallowed, his fingers tightening around hers. ‘Sorry I left. Sorry I—’
She stepped towards him, cheek pressing against the lapel of his coat. He smelled of salt, and sweat, and smoke, his heart thudding a ragged rhythm against her ear – and she let herself lean into the warmth of him, let the tears that’d threatened for so long soak into the rough wool of his jacket.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said – voice muffled against him. ‘I should never have told Mr Briggs where you were. I should never have made that decision for you, Damien. I just … I wanted you to stay. I wanted …’
‘I know,’ he said, his arms coming around her, cradling her.
When she looked up, she saw there was a brightness in his green eyes she’d not seen before – and they weren’t dark, nor clouded.
They were perfect – the colour of new, spring grass.
‘But you were right, Ava. I should have stopped running a long time ago. I should’ve—’ He broke off, and shook his head. ‘You were right.’
‘Forgive me,’ Ava said, her voice catching in her throat. She hadn’t realized her eyes were filling with tears again until he reached and caught one with his fingertip.
‘I should be asking you that,’ he said. ‘For everything – for making you do that again. I was …’
‘I think it was good for me,’ Ava said. ‘To stand up there again. To prove to myself that I could do it. At least now it’ll stalk me a little less.’
‘Perhaps we shall both be less haunted then, Ava,’ he said, a softness in his expression.
‘Because you made me realize that I wouldn’t just be running from Mr Briggs, I would be running from you, too.
’ He traced a line down her jaw, his skin warm against hers, and still flushed pink from running in the cold.
‘And I couldn’t do it, Ava. I couldn’t do it. ’
When she blinked up at him, she saw the same longing that speared at her chest mirrored in the flush upon his cheeks, the hitch in his breath.
‘You know, I didn’t understand it before,’ she said softly.
‘When you said I was a ripple. But I think I do, now. For you were my ripple, too. You were the one who … who started all of this. I wouldn’t have been on that stage today if it wasn’t for you.
Not like that. Not as myself. You are a ripple, Damien. ’
‘If I am a ripple, then you are the rock,’ he said – reaching to brush a thumb softly across her lips before he bent his head, and kissed her.
And this time it wasn’t questioning, like the first time – nor desperate, like it had been at the apothecary.
This time it was soft, and slow, and achingly sweet – and she wanted to imprint it upon her memory forever, save it in a room of its own – one filled with golden lamplight, and the warmth of his mouth against hers as he breathed: ‘Ava—’
His fingertips traced a line down her cheek, before coming to rest in the dip between her collarbones, the place where her pulse thrummed in time with his, and she felt the thread between them grow taut.
The same thread that had ached when they’d been apart and now – now that he was close enough that she could feel his breath upon her cheek, could smell the cold wind upon his collar – sent a shivering warmth into her stomach.
And then he pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes squeezed shut.
‘I don’t suppose we could stay here forever?’
Ava smiled – for she didn’t want this cocoon of happiness to crack either. ‘My family will be out there,’ she said softly. ‘Waiting for me.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Damien. ‘But perhaps they can wait just one more minute.’
And he smiled as his arms curled ever tighter around her waist, and he kissed her again.