“Because I couldn’t keep up the charade anymore. He’s not staying. He was never staying.”
“Okay, I know that was the case when he got here,” said Norah, “but that really isn’t the impression I’ve had since you got back together. What makes you so sure he hasn’t changed his mind?”
“Because I found the flight itinerary and all the details of his next job. He’s leaving for Portland come January, and he didn’t tell me.”
“Oh honey.” Norah set down the ice cream and wrapped her arms around Tyler from the other side.
Sandwiched between her friends, Tyler felt tears begin to burn. Fighting them back, she choked out, “It gets worse. He’s talked his boss into buying the Madrigal to turn into some kind of awful conference center. After everything we did to save it, all that talk about preserving our history, now he’s leading the charge to destroy it.”
“He what?” demanded Piper, a dangerous glint in her eye. “He told you he was doing that?”
Tyler shook her head. “I went to find him after I found the stuff about Portland. He was there, at the theater, going over the whole thing with Gerald Peyton. I heard all of it. They never knew I was there.”
“Did you ask him about it? About any of it?” asked Norah.
“What was the point? I heard with my own ears, saw it written in black and white. And when I asked him to go, he just went. No fuss, no fight, no argument. Who does that?”
Norah was wearing her very careful negotiation face. “Well, honey, what did you expect him to do?”
“If it really mattered, if I really mattered, he would’ve stayed and at least hashed out what was wrong.”
“Why didn’t you tell him what was wrong?” asked Piper. At Tyler’s glare she held up a hand for peace. “He’s a man, ergo he’s dense. You can’t expect him to be a mindreader. You jumped right on to the end of the fight without giving him a chance at participating and defending himself.”
“Did you ever ask him to stay?” asked Norah.
She thought of the night they’d become lovers again, of the question that had slipped out in that unguarded moment. He’d thought she was asking him to stay for the night, not forever. And she hadn’t felt the need to say it again, not when they had seemed to be so clearly on the same track. She never dreamed she’d been so wrong.
A niggle of doubt wormed its way into her mind. If she’d asked him—explicitly, outright asked him to stay—would it have made a difference?
“How can I do that?” she whispered.
"It's very simple.” Piper put her hands on Tyler’s face like the genie in Aladdin. “You say, 'Brody, I love you. I want you to stay.’”
Tyler shoved her hands away. "Right. And risk that he says no. Or worse, that he stays and grows to resent me because of it? I can't bear that."
"You don't know he'd do either of those things," Norah pointed out.
"I don't know that he won't. The only way I’ll truly know is if he comes to me himself, of his own volition.”
It struck her then. The truth of her situation. It had all been a mistake. Because after all these years, she was still waiting for him. She didn’t get closure. All she’d done was reopen an old wound she used to know how to live with.
1 Week 'Til Show
This was it. The last dress rehearsal they’d ever have in the Madrigal. As she stood in the dressing room, surrounded by the scatter of makeup, hair products, and all the other flotsam and jetsam of costuming, Tyler wanted to weep. It was simply too much to bear. Once this show was over, she’d have nothing left to hang on to. Brody would be gone, and the theater would be destroyed. And every day she passed it, she would have a flagrant reminder that he hadn’t been the man she believed him to be.
“Hurry up!” hissed Piper from the door. “We’re almost on!”
Tyler hurried through the rest of her costume change and took her position, real feather fan in hand. The smile she forced for the number felt like it would shatter her face, but her voice, her choreography was on point. At least now everyone would believe her lack of spark was due to the foreclosure rather than Brody. Except for Brody, at least.
He watched her, dark eyes far more serious than the role dictated. If it had still been temper in his gaze, he’d have been easier to ignore, but it was concern she saw as she traded lines and plotted matchmaking with him on stage. Tyler forced herself not to get lost or forget her lines. She thought she managed well enough, as Nate didn’t stop the rehearsal for redirection. But Brody caught her in the wings between scenes.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Tyler shortly. She knew the smile she shot him was more of a wince.
Brody lowered his voice. “You forget, I actually know you.”
“I used to think I knew you.” She moved away from him for the next costume change.