16
Two weeks later…
Paige
Two weeks later…
Relax,” Taylor said, sliding his palm across my stocking clad knee. “You’re going to beamazing.”
Amazing? I felt like I was going to barf. I hadn’t auditioned for anything in a decade. “This is crazy,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m thirty years old. I haven’t auditioned, let alone acted in years. And Ihavea freaking jobalready!”
He squeezed my knee gently as we careened down I-95 toward Boston. “First of all, thirty? Are you seriously using age as an excuse? I seem to remember two weeks ago, you were scolding me that my career will be over in a few years, but that you can reinvent yourselfanytime.”
I gulped. Crap. I did saythat.
“Furthermore, don’t make me throw out Helen Mirren, Dame Judy Dench, MerylStreep—”
“Meryl Streep doesn’t count,” I blurted out. “She was famous even when she wasyoung.”
Taylor sighed. “Do you want me to pull over? No one’s forcing you to do this. Especially not me. But as a wise woman also said, ‘Are you going to let fear dictate the rest of yourlife?’”
I rolled my eyes. “I think the real question is are you going to use my words against me for the rest of mylife?”
His grin widened and with that smile, some of my nerves melted away. Some. Not all. He shrugged. “Depends. You offering me the rest of your life?” He slid me a quick look, then jerked his eyes back to theroad.
“Not yet, I’m not.” After two weeks? Heck no. Only crazy people got engaged after two weeks. It didn’t mean I didn’t see a future with him, though. That thought alone brought another smile to my face and more nerves melted away with it. At this rate, maybe I wouldn’t be nervous at all when we arrived at the audition.Yeah,right.
Ten minutes later, we pulled into a small parking lot across from the repertory theater. Forget butterflies. It was like a monarch sanctuary had taken flight in my belly, all the way up to my chest. My heart fluttered, pounding in a rhythm so rapid, I worried I might be having a heartattack.
I clutched my headshot in my clammy hands and even though I was sweating bullets, my body was alsotrembling.
“Paige,” Taylor said, his voice low and rough. “Look atme.”
I did as he said, shifting to face him, those blue eyes disarming me. “Don’t tie your worth to an outcome. Whether you get this role or not, it doesn’t define you. You’ve done your part. You’re here and you’re going to give an amazing audition. Free yourself from an outcome that’s out of your control and instead, enjoy the ride. Because you are so much more than one audition, onerole.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “How’d you get sosmart?”
He didn’t answer, but instead curled his hand around the back of my neck and tugged me into his lips, kissing me hard. “Go show them what yougot.”
* * *
Just shy ofone hour later, I walked out of the theater and found Taylor at the coffee shop across the street readingSportsIllustrated.
“Hey, you,” he said grinning, looking up at me. But his smile quickly fell when he saw my face. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Why are you sopale?”
I said nothing, and dropped into the chair opposite him and took a long sip of his now tepid coffee, swallowing it down. I shook my head, still stunned. “I got a part in their summer show.” I barely managed to say the words. It was like trying to speakunderwater.
I watched as his pale blue eyes widened, his grin lifting. “Already? They offered you the part on the spot?” He launched to his feet, lifting me out of the chair in a tighthug.
“That’s not all,” I said. Momentary confusion drifted across his expression and we both sat backdown.
“Okay…”
“Apparently, they’ve received a reel of my work a few days ago—as a teacher and director—and they offered me a full-time job teaching and directing their college students. They said they’ve had their eye on me ever since my school won the state competition a couple years ago, but they hadn’t seen one of my performances until the otherday.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs away. “Idon’t evenhavea reel of my own work… how the heck did they—” I looked up in time to catch the smug smile on Taylor’s face. “You?” I asked. “You didthis?”
He didn’t nod or blink or even acknowledge my question. Or was it an accusation? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a shrug. “Must be another one of those Christmas miracles you talk so muchabout.”
