If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  She sticks her jaw out in stubborn defiance, but Dominic continues.

  "The last thing viewers saw was us tripping over each other and screwing up like a couple of amateurs. Is that how you want to go out?"

  She says nothing.

  Dominic shrugs and throws up his arms. "Okay. We'll blow this off and party in the city. You made it to the finals. Who cares how we finish? Who cares that you have a one in three chance to win this whole thing? Who cares that I think we can do it?"

  Her face is pink with embarrassment. I feel like a world-class jerk witnessing their battle of wills, but it's likely the whole country will see this footage Monday night.

  "We only have tomorrow and Saturday to learn and polish all three numbers and half of tomorrow will be spent in the air. The ball's in your court. I'd love to call it quits and go grab a beer. It's up to you."

  Chelsea doesn't say anything for the longest time. They're at a standoff, and yet he's allowing her to call the shots. Her eyes get watery. "I'm sorry."

  Dominic's stance softens. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You've given this competition everything you have. I couldn't ask for more."

  She swallows down her emotion and raises her chin. "I don't want to quit. I want to win."

  A tiny smile lifts the edge of his mouth.

  "You better have something phenomenal planned, because we're coming for 'em."

  He nods. "Hug it out?" He opens his arms and she walks into them, leaving me more jealous than I'd like to admit.

  An understanding passes between the two, and I know everything will be all right. I move to the door and catch her eye.

  "Wait!" She runs across the room, takes my hand, and leads me into the corridor, shutting the studio door behind her.

  She grabs my coat and drags me forward, pressing her lips to mine, demanding and hungry, as if she needs this connection to get her through the night. Finally, we part, her eyes delicious pools of desire.

  "You better get in there before they come looking for you," I say, wishing I could steal her away.

  "And you better get to work."

  "I'm late. Look at what you've done to me. I'm never late. Ever."

  "You saying I'm a bad influence?"

  "Very bad."

  One last quick kiss and I head out, not looking back because I can't trust myself.

  I wake up Friday morning, after a desperately needed full night's sleep, and find Chelsea's sent me a link to CNN. I follow it to breaking news that a plane slid off a JFK runway shutting down two main runways. The barely reopened airport has been forced to cancel half its flights, including hers. She ends her text with emojis of fireworks, smiley faces, and hearts.

  Propping an extra pillow under my head, I call her. She answers on the first ring. "You just can't get rid of me." Her voice is light with excitement.

  "Kind of like mold in the basement." I tease, but I'm pumped she's still here. "I don't suppose Dominic's decided to give you the day off."

  "Hardly, but he gave me time to buy some clothes that don't smell like a men's locker room."

  I can't imagine Chelsea smelling anything but perfect. "Does that mean no more Hot Stuff across your bum."

  "That's my first goal, to find something plain and boring."

  "Darn, I liked how those letters hugged your, uh, assets. Any chance I can steal you for lunch or dinner? Maybe a quick coffee or a quick snogging in the back hall when Dominic isn't looking?"

  She giggles, the sound is music to my ears. "I'll try to sneak away at some point. What's your day like?"

  "It's Friday, so other than an early meeting and a run, my day is flexible."

  "I'd think your show was workout enough."

  "It's the start of a four-show weekend. That's four shows in forty-eight hours. If I don't stay strong and in shape, I'll never get through it."

  "Sounds exhausting, now that you put it that way."

  It can be. But I refuse to let it hold me back. "Give me a call when you get a break. I'll be standing by."

  Three hours later, still no word from Chelsea. Central Park is postcard perfection. Now that the storm has passed, snow glistens under clear sunny skies. I breathe in the fresh air. The early snow is a novelty bringing out a surprising amount of people for a weekday.

  I spend my five-mile run thinking of Chelsea’s sweet smile, her infectious laugh, and especially those moments when her vulnerable side shows through. While she opened up about her past when I asked, it's obvious she keeps a carefully protected wall around her. And that's okay. If I have my way, we'll have plenty of time to take that down.

  My phone rings interrupting my ruminations. I slow to a walk. It's my agent. "Hey, Sean. What's up?"

  "I thought we had a meeting."

  I stop short. "Aw, shit! Was that today?" Other runners speed past. I step off the jogging path.

  "It's not like you to miss a meeting. I've got the script for the new musical you've been waiting on."

  "Sorry. With the, uh, blizzard I've been distracted." I check the time. "I can head over to you now."

  "I've got to head out in five minutes, so we'll have to reschedule. I did want to check in about some auditions I'm working on, but I wasn't sure how many you can handle right now."

  "I'm wide open." Except all the time I plan to be talking and skyping with Chelsea.

  "You're ready for this next step?"

  My heart glitches. It's a huge change, but the timing is right. "I think I have to be." I relax on a bench to catch my breath.

  "I agree. And your appearance on Celebrity Dance Off was media gold. Primetime on a hit network show—what a sweet piece of luck that was."

  I grin. "You have no idea."

  "I've got to run, but I'll messenger over the script. Rest up because I'll start lining up auditions. You're going to be a busy man, but if luck holds, I think you can land something great that'll take you to the next level."

  "Thanks, Sean. I'm ready."

  Nearby a woman is helping her kids build a snowman, something I haven't done in years. I slip on my gloves and make a snowball. It takes a couple tries, but I'm able to catch a shot of it mid air with my phone and send the picture to Chelsea.

  Next I find a wide-open expanse of snow and start rolling my snowball until I get a nice-size base. By the time I'm done ten minutes later, I have a decent snowman, complete with my scarf and hat. There's two protein bars in my inside coat pocket that I use for eyes and a frown. My creation complete I take a selfie with Frosty, matching his mood with a woeful frown and text it to Chelsea. "Can you come out and play?"

  After retrieving my hat and scarf and shaking off the snow, my phone pings.

  "Have you had lunch?" she asks.

  I grin and respond, "I'm famished."

  "Dominic says you'll know where Tavern on the Green is. Meet us there?"

  Twenty minutes later Chelsea and Dominic step out of a cab in front of the landmark restaurant perched on the edge of the park. A bundle of grins and excitement, she kisses me hello.

  "This is gorgeous," she gushes, as we're seated in the Central Park Room, which is like an atrium with floor to ceiling glass. Even part of the ceiling is glass, giving us the feel of dining in the center of a snow-covered paradise.

  “You’ve earned a little tourist stop while we’re here,” Dominic says.

  We stuff ourselves with clam chowder, Caesar salads, and warm apple crisp. I'm going to need to take another run just to burn off lunch. I ask how rehearsals are going.

  "We're making progress. This morning I borrowed a couple of guys from the studio and we worked on lifts and tricks," Dominic says.

  "You should see how much they flip me around. It's so fun," Chelsea adds.

  When lunch ends, Chelsea leans back and rubs her stomach. "I'm so full, all I want to do is curl up in a booth and snooze like a fat little pig." Fatigue shows in dark circles under her eyes.

  Dominic lays down his napkin and stands. "No time for naps. You can sleep when you're dea
d. The crew has been scouting spots outside. Larry needs more promo footage to air this weekend, so pull out your second wind. It's show time."

  Chelsea sighs and glances at me with a tired smile. I squeeze her hand.

  Outside, I get a front row seat as they set up in front of a frozen fountain. They ditch their coats, but wear their hats and scarves and run a short sequence of their dance. Chelsea is focused and professional. Yesterday she was still awkward and learning the complicated moves, but today, she's graceful and precise. She works as hard as any of the professionals I know.

  Next they move to a field of deeper snow for a couple of lifts. Dominic hoists Chelsea up over his head. She arches her back with her legs in perfect form. Her arms extend over her head gracefully as she hangs poised in the air. It’s a sight to behold in the winter wonderland surrounding them. The camera crew catches every move. On the dismount, Dominic slips and Chelsea tumbles to the snow. I spring forward to help, but before I get there, Dominic takes the brunt of her fall, so she lands somewhat safely on top of him, and I wish it could have been me beneath her tangle of limbs, hair, and laughter.

  Chelsea rolls off and shakes away the snow. Dominic climbs to his feet, giving up on trying more lifts. Instead they perform some spins and a couple of dips. Her cheeks and nose are an adorable rosy red. When the crew declares they have enough footage, Chelsea bounds over and plants her cold lips on mine.

  "You are amazing." I hold her close. "And you're freezing, let's get your coat back on."

  Dominic joins us. "We've got to run, and with any luck, you won't see us again until after the finals."

  Chelsea's head swings around in surprise. Her fingers grip my coat and I feel her being pulled away again.

  "You have a flight?" I ask.

  "Out of Newark later tonight." He gives Chelsea a pointed look.

  They have to go. I can't keep praying for another disaster to keep her here with me. I extend my hand to Dominic. "Thanks for letting me crash in on your rehearsal time. From what I've seen, you guys have a great shot."

  Dominic steps away to give us a chance to say goodbye. I take her in my arms. "Looks like this is it."

  "I'd rather stay here," she says softly with disappointment reflecting in her eyes.

  I tuck a strand of her hair under her hat. Her words touch me more than she knows. "I know, but once you're back there, you'll be excited for finals. It's only five days."

  19

  Los Angeles

  The thick L.A traffic is as oppressing as the smog. While New York was bustling with humanity, it also held an air of excitement and possibility. My bland apartment is in stark opposition to the warmth of Tom's cozy flat with the interior brick walls and comfortable furniture. And what stands out most now that I'm back is the longing in my heart. It was a whirlwind visit, but every minute of it is amplified in my mind as I replay Tom's mesmerizing glances, the way he owned the stage in his show, and the enticing touch of his hands as he kissed me goodbye.

  I roll my suitcase into the bedroom. On the plane I was able to catch a solid four hours of sleep. With the time difference we gained three hours, and now it’s only one a.m. so I get to crawl in and sleep some more.

  But true to his word, first thing in the morning, we're full speed ahead starting with costume fittings. I take one look at myself in a skimpy, backless number and turn on Dominic. "Seriously? What could possibly make you think I'd wear this?

  He cracks a grin. "Tom gave it the thumbs up."

  "Oh." I try to pull the cleavage closed and tug the thin sheath of fabric lower over my butt. "Couldn't I at least have a little more fringe? It shows way too much ass."

  "You look fantastic. It fits the dance, the audience will love it, and as I recall, a certain New Yorker is rather fond of your, ahem, you know. Next costume."

  He gives me a nudge back to the changing room. I silently curse him, yet deep down am flattered that Tom chose it.

  While Dominic meets with production about the set designs, I'm stuck doing interviews, which I loathe. I should be used to this by now, but as a default finalist, they're spinning their attention onto Dominic and I as the dark horse. Don't they realize I've been the dark horse my whole life?

  Now that I'm back at the studio and see the amount of effort being put into the finale, I want to prove we belong here. Every spare moment we sneak off to rehearse.

  "Eyes up! Why are you looking at the floor?" Dominic barks.

  "Sorry." I lift my chin and focus on the complicated steps. We continue for another hour. I'm sweaty and exhausted when the three guys from the troupe and five of the pro dancers barge in. I turn to Dominic in a panic.

  "What? I told you we were working with the backup dancers today. Hey guys, thanks for coming." He welcomes them all.

  I push the fallen hair off my sweaty forehead and whisper to Dominic. "Eight! We need eight backup dancers?"

  He laughs. "Yes. It's the finale. As the number builds, more guys are added until the final section where we'll rock this number out of the park."

  "I guess I thought we only had the two because of the tricks." Sweat trails down my back.

  "Don't worry, they're here to make you look good."

  "Well, in that case, can we get any more?" At first I'm intimidated by all the pros, but quickly discover it's a lot of fun to dance as part of a big group. I'd been learning the number with Dominic and two stand-ins for the stunts, but now I see how it all comes together and am further psyched. It takes a while to work through all the tricks and lifts, but it's strong hands that lift and toss me like a domino back and forth. I'm corrected every time I lack posture or don't point, kick, or snap a move perfectly.

  We run it full speed, and at the end I get sloppy and don't extend quite far enough and land wrong, having the breath knocked right out of me.

  The guys set me on my feet, but I lower myself to the floor to catch my breath. Dominic is in my face. "What happened? Are you all right?"

  I wave him away and try to draw in air, but am still reeling from the hit.

  Pavel says, "She landed wrong and I caught her hard across the back."

  Dominic kneels next to me. "Talk to me."

  "Go away." I heave in a breath and cover my eyes with my arm, effectively shutting him, the other dancers, and the cameraman out of my sight lines.

  "Okay, guys. Thanks. Other than that last stunt, it looks great. We'll see you later at camera blocking."

  I focus on slow steady breaths and revel in the comfort of the hard floor. A towel drops on my stomach. I peek at Dominic who sits on the floor next to me with a bottle of water.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah. I just need a minute."

  "That's about all you get because we have to get back to the studio and camera block our Viennese waltz."

  I want to cry because my whole body aches and I have no more gas in my tank, but I remind myself there's only forty-eight hours left and I'll be done. During the break I call Tom, but he's on stage at this point. Missing him, I send a text instead.

  By the time I get home at 10 p.m. I'm so exhausted, but desperately need a shower. I rest my hands against the shower wall to make sure I don't accidentally fall asleep. Crawling into bed with my phone, I read a couple texts from Tom and smile, then realize it's two in the morning in New York and too late to call.

  Sunday morning Dominic calls at seven to make sure I'm up. "Walking out the door," I lie, and decide it's time to get moving. We fit in an hour of rehearsal before heading to the sound stage. Somewhere in the middle of working around the impressive new set pieces, consulting with hair and makeup on styles, and getting my final spray tan, the rest of the cast arrives. Everyone from my very first week meanders the ballroom and trailer area like a college reunion. I get hugs from Vicky & Grant, but my highlight is Hank.

  "Lookie who made the finale!" He pulls me into a bear hug.

  "I've missed you. How've you been?"

  "Happy as a tick at a nudist camp. And what about you? Is tha
t English boy still sniffing around?"

  "Hank!"

  "What? It's all about pheromones. So?" He eyes me with a knowing glint.

  I grin. "Yeah, I saw him in New York last week, but our visit was short."

  "No need to fret. I have a feeling he'll be waiting for as long as it takes." He winks.

  Once all the staging, blocking and meetings are finished, Dominic and I head back to the rehearsal studio. There's still awkward parts of our freestyle that Dominic's determined to fix. Before we start, I call Tom, but get his voice mail and remember he's performing at some big deal New York Gala. I send him a good luck text and turn my phone back to silent so I can concentrate. Dominic and I rehearse for three hours until we're dog-tired, and he calls it a night.

  My muscles are like jelly, my feet are throbbing, and my stomach is grumbling for food. There was never enough time today to grab more than a banana or a yogurt. I sit against the wall. "I can't believe we're in the finals. I was hoping for two or three weeks tops. This is insane."

  "It's awesome. You're the one who got us here."

  I turn to him in disbelief. "Hardly. It's all you!"

  "No. I can teach dance 24/7, but if I don't have someone with a huge heart, willing to put in the time, they'll never be any good. You're fearless, Chelsea. No matter what happened you refused to give up. Whether you were injured, or frustrated, or tired, you always give it your all."

  "I didn't want to." I bemoan. Glancing at my friend, I can't believe how far we've come considering we could barely tolerate each other in the beginning.

  He knocks his foot into mine. "Sure you did. When you set your mind to something, there's no stopping you."

  20

  New York City

  "Oh my God, is this really Chelsea Barnes?" Her voice is a soothing balm after the withdrawals of not speaking to her for two and a half torturous days.

  "I'm sorry. I haven't had time to think straight let alone find two minutes when we're both free at the same time. Thank you for the roses. They're stunning." Her voice turns wistful.