Corinne’s cheeks colored again, deeper this time. “Because she had what I wanted. It wasn’t you so much as someone like you. No one has ever looked at me the way you look at her. Like the sun rises and sets in her eyes. You respect her and you understand her. The pair of you were always so perfectly matched, like…I don’t know—”
“Bookends,” Brody murmured.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I was jealous of that and I didn’t know how to find that for myself. I still don’t, but I’ve got other priorities now. Like raising my son to be a better man than his father. The point is if something is wrong between you and Tyler, you have to fix it. You can’t let the gift of that kind of relationship go just because stuff got hard.”
“I wasn’t the one who let go,” he said.
“Apparently you weren’t the one who fought to hold on either,” said Corinne with obvious disapproval. “I don’t know what you two fought about, and it doesn’t matter. She’s in love with you. She always has been, always will be. And if you walk away from that, you’re exactly the idiot I thought you were eight years ago.” She slid out of the booth and pulled the ticket from her apron pocket. “It’ll be $3.25 for the pie and coffee. The advice is free.” She laid it on the table and strode back into the kitchen.
Brody sat in stunned silence for several long minutes. Laying a twenty-dollar bill beside his uneaten pie, he walked out. He opened his truck, tossed in the organizer, then shut the door again. His mind too full to drive, he began to walk the quiet streets of downtown Wishful. Corinne’s remarks bounced around like a pinball, adding to the weight of what Cam and Tucker had said.
He knew now what was at the root of Tyler breaking things off. Despite his lingering insult over the fact that she could’ve believed he’d truly have allowed the theater to be destroyed when they’d put so much into preserving it, he understood her self-protective actions. For all that what had happened eight years ago was a terrible mistake, she had years of pain believing it had been deliberate. That wasn’t so easily overcome by logic, especially not if circumstances had led her to believe he was going to do it again.
The question was, how was he going to fix it? Cam had said she’d need the words. But which words, and how? Brody didn’t want to offer her the uncertainty of not knowing how things could work. He felt like he owed her more than that. He needed to work out the details.
Stopping in front of the Babylon, he looked up at the classic Georgian facade. He was damned good at details.
A breeze gusted through the trees, snaking under his collar. Brody shivered. Damn, it had finally gotten cold. He really ought to get back to the truck. But instead of turning back, he found himself drawn into the dark of the green, toward the fountain that was the heart of Wishful. Moonlight gleamed off the faint ripples on the surface. He bent and trailed his fingers through the frigid water. Once upon a time, he’d tossed in his coin, made his wish, and been disappointed. But maybe he’d been doomed to disappointment because he’d had no faith. Hope and faith were inextricably intertwined. You couldn’t really have one without the other. Getting Tyler back was going to take a massive leap of faith.
As he stood beside the water, Brody felt the first stirrings of a plan begin to take form. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a quarter, rolling it habitually across his knuckles, holding his wish clear in his mind before tossing the coin in with a splash.
“Hope springs eternal,” he muttered.
Opening Night
Tyler stared at the vase of bright yellow tulips on the dressing table. She didn’t need to see the card to know they were from Brody. It was another of those show traditions.
“Aren’t you going to read the card?” asked Piper.
She was almost afraid to open it. Her resolve was so weak at this point, she didn’t know if she could hold up against him if he decided to press the issue. But the card only read, Break a leg, beautiful in his familiar, blocky handwriting. “Just the usual,” said Tyler.
“Did you talk to him last night?”
“Yes.” And yet there’d been so much unsaid. But it didn’t matter now. He’d made his choice and she’d made hers. They had a show to perform.
Tyler could see the struggle on Piper’s face, desperate to ask more. But she’d wait because now wasn’t the time. And thank God for it.
“Ten minutes to curtain!” The call swept through backstage like wildfire, sending them all into flurries of motion.
Tyler did her best to put Brody out of her mind, to finish her makeup and slip into the bathrobe that was her first costume for the night. She was in the wings when the opening overture began, watching as the curtain lifted on the Italian theater of World War II and Brody and Myles entertained the troops. This was it. The last opening night show she’d ever have with Brody. A part of her ached even as she enjoyed his performance. Then it was time for her own, and she had no more opportunity to think.
As the show got rolling, Tyler managed to immerse herself in the role. She owed it to her castmates, to the Madrigal, to give it her all. But her all still wasn’t feeling right. Not until Piper ad-libbed a slap to her butt with a feather fan and startled a laugh out of her. This was supposed to be fun. An outlet for joy. It was time to remember that it wasn’t all about Brody. Loosening up, Tyler slid properly into the guise of Judy Haynes. She preened and flirted, shamelessly getting caught at playing the angle to get Wallace and Davis to come check out their sister act. So she was smiling when she rose from the table and accompanied Phil to the dance floor.
Tyler knew the moment Brody touched her for their first number that something had changed. For all that they couldn’t seem to communicate in words, they’d always been able to speak through dance. The hand he curled around her waist was warm, firm, and proprietary, not the impersonal hold he’d been using recently. Part of her thrilled to the sensation and wanted to arch into his touch. It was instinct to flow into the rhythm of their movements and follow his lead. By the time her brain kicked in to question that instinct, the dance was over and they were transitioning to the next scene.
The pressure of continuing to go through the motions and remembering lines kept Tyler from dwelling on anything more personal for too long. So when they reached the engagement party kiss, she didn’t feel the expected dread as Brody lowered his mouth to hers.
I miss you.
She felt the echo of his words in the lingering warmth of his mouth against hers, in the brush of his fingers over her cheek before he turned away to continue the scene. It wasn’t the deliberate erosion of defenses he’d pulled the first time, but his kiss stirred her nonetheless, slipping behind the pitiful walls she’d managed to erect around her heart. The punch of longing left her feeling breathless and conflicted once more. Temper sparked as she made her exit. Was he trying to make her crazy? He’d agreed to this, agreed it was over—if not in words than by his actions. What right did he have to act like nothing was wrong?
Nate caught them during the change of scene. “Great job staying in character, you two. You’ve been struggling a bit the last couple of weeks, but you’re really back on point.”
In character, Tyler thought. Of course. This isn’t about messing with me, it’s about the show. He’s doing this for the show.
Brody wasn’t trying to push her into anything; he’d just dropped his guard with her to play the part.
The truth of that made her bleed again—again and again, she kept finding new ways to hurt. But she put the hurt aside. If Brody could do this for the Madrigal, so could she. This show would be her final pe