When the silence had stretched as long as possible, Owen dipped into a bow. “Let the circus”—he stood abruptly and released a cloud of gold glitter into the air—“begin!”
* * *
Heart pounding, Rosalyn peeked from behind the stage curtain that separated the wings of the tent from the eager audience sitting beneath its roof. The smell of peanuts and crawfish hung in the air like Cajun cologne. In the center of the arena, the trained poodles line-danced on cue to Sweet Home Alabama—an instant crowd pleaser.
Trying to focus on anything but her upcoming performance, Rosalyn watched as the dogs sat, rolled over, and then took a bow as the last strains of the song ended. The crowd erupted into applause—almost as much as they’d given the silver-haired magician. He was scheduled to go back for an encore toward the end of the show—after Rosalyn’s routine and before the singing jugglers and fiery Hula-Hoops.
It was almost her turn.
She let the curtain slip back into place and flexed her fingers, pacing, testing her knee. Sweat dampened the back of her glittery white leotard.
Her first show back since falling.
She’d tweaked her more recent routine to accommodate any stiffness that might show up. She’d thoroughly stretched and hydrated. She’d mentally reviewed her routine, imagining perfection. She was prepared. There was no reason to worry.
She needed more rosin.
“Have you seen a purple bag?” Rosalyn asked the magician who stood scrolling social media. A pair of fake handcuffs dangled from his wrist.
Without looking up, he pointed to her duffel sitting on the sword-trick box next to him. “I didn’t stab it, don’t worry.”
Rosalyn headed toward it, dodging three costumed Hula-Hoopers and one unicyclist as they rushed toward the curtain.
Owen approached as she dug for her trusty bottle of spray-rosin. “You ready?”
She sprayed her hands, then flexed her fingers again. “Ready.” She nodded with what she hoped looked like confidence at the local banker, whom she’d met earlier at Magnolia Days with Cade. He’d made an excellent ringmaster so far.
She followed him toward the curtain. At least tonight, she didn’t have to worry about Blaine watching, critiquing. He’d most likely hear about the circus eventually from media coverage, but not until she was back on her regularly scheduled performance circuit, where he couldn’t complain. Hopefully by then, the paperwork for the annulment would have been accepted, and she could write off that bad chapter. Focus on paying her debt with this last round of performances and then be free to figure out the rest of her story.
So why did staring up at the silks rigged in the center of the rink make her feel like her story was already over?
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” Owen adjusted his top hat. “You’re practically famous. Isn’t this what you do?”
“You’d be surprised.” Rosalyn rotated her shoulders, stretching the tension from her neck, slipping into the splits.
“Ouch.” Owen blanched. “How do you do that?”
“Practice—more than most people want to do.” She smiled but it still felt shaky. So did her hands, for that matter. She needed to get it together or her fear of falling would become a reality. And too much was riding on this performance.
For her and the town.
“You’re up after the hoops of fire. I’ll announce you.” Owen flicked her a thumbs-up, then ducked behind the curtain.
Rosalyn closed her eyes, leaning deeper into the stretch. She tuned out the TikTok video streaming from the magician’s phone, Owen’s voice announcing the next act, and the musty odor of rosin emitting from her hands.
She slowly stood from her splits, wishing Cade had been able to make it backstage to tease her and call her Ace and settle her nerves with his quick wit and adorable smile. With his promise of future kisses and his hope for their stories to merge.
Her phone buzzed from her bag, and she dug it out, holding it carefully with two fingers to avoid getting rosin on the screen. Ugh, two missed calls from Blaine. She’d handle that later.
And yay. A text from Cade. Was he reading her mind now?
Cade: You’re going to do amazing. I’ll see you after the show.
She’d needed that. She slid her phone back into her bag, and her smile sobered.
Needing him was scary. After all, last time she’d needed a man, it’d ended in a disaster of lies and international red tape.
Cade was different though. She had to remember that, not be afraid. He wasn’t Blaine, and he wasn’t Mr. Popular from high school anymore, intent on showing off and showing her up. He could be trustworthy.
