Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3)

by S. Andrea Milne

  Somewhere in the depths of my blankets, my phone buzzed. I had a good guess for who was contacting me. Digging through the top layer of covers, I located my phone and tapped on the screen. Had Simon been watching his email all day for my response? It was 1:17 in the morning. I’d hit send on my message seven minutes ago. My fingers hovered over the screen. Was it a good idea to engage in early morning texting with an ex-boyfriend who’d expressed his love for me? On Christmas? After quickly calculating the chance of my falling back to sleep if I didn’t read Simon’s response as next to zero, I clicked on his message.

  Beth, thanks for your email. I appreciate your honestly. I’d still like to see you, if you’re willing. Name the date and time. I’ll be there.

  Why was he being so persistent? Since we were both awake, and this was happening over the phone rather than in person, I replied with one word: Why?

  As I waited for the reply I was certain would come, I returned to my survey of our apartment. We hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree, although I’d found a little ceramic one fitted with lights at a garage sale that we’d set out in the living room. Between the holiday party season and planning for the wedding, we simply hadn’t had the time. Maybe next year?

  My cell buzzed again.

  I guess I need closure. If there’s any way I can continue my relationship with Emily, I need to say goodbye to you, properly.

  I sighed. I’d said he needed to figure out how to be happy with Emily or break up. Maybe it was all the holiday feels building up, but if this was what he needed to do, I’d be a hypocrite to refuse him the chance to move forward.

  All right. Text me on the 26th. We can find a place and time to meet between the 27th and the 29th. I’m going to bed now. Merry Christmas.

  I turned off my cell phone completely, then placed it face-down on the coffee table to make it as off as possible. I wasn’t going to return to bed, no need to disturb Robert with the tossing and turning that was likely to ensue, but I should at least make the effort of falling back to sleep. I switched off the lamp on the side table next to me, then smoothed out my blankets so they covered me at my shoulders and tucked underneath me all the way down to my toes. Last, I closed my eyes, and tried to not think about anything. Not Simon, not the wedding, not the offer of an audition for Cirque Celestial. I counted silently over, and over, trying to empty my thoughts and fall sleep.

  ∞∞∞

  “I can’t believe Jake offered you an audition for Cirque Celestial,” Becca said, as she stuck a couple of bobby pins into my hair. She’d insisted we needed to put my whole wedding ensemble together before the actual day—to make sure everything looked right. It seemed more like she wanted to play dress-up, with me as her human-sized doll.

  “I can’t tell from your expression whether you can’t believe I was offered an audition because you don’t think I’m good enough, or because he didn’t offer one to Robert as well.” I watched the mirror in front of me as Becca’s mouth fall agape. I sipped my coffee to hide my smile.

  It was December twenty-sixth, a little after ten o’clock in the morning. I’d expected to wake up to a text from Simon asking when we could meet. I had not. Instead I’d been text-attacked by Becca. In five days, I’d be married. Fifteen days until I had to tell Jake Talbot if I was going up to Canada to audition for the biggest circus company in the world. If they accepted me, how many days and months would I have to endure being separated from my new husband?

  Becca dropped several hairpins on the floor as she circled around me to grab my shoulders. “Beth. I didn’t mean that. Of course, you’re good enough for Cirque Celestial, it’s just—you’re getting married in a few days. How could Jake throw this at you right now? And yes, why doesn’t he want McAllister to audition as well?”

  I shook off Becca’s grip as I turned to face Rachel. The other twin was present, seated on her own bed on the other side of the room, doing her best not to get involved in her sister’s perchance for gossip. Rachel glanced up from her phone, looking me over before she replied—I wasn’t sure if this inspection was to check out her sister’s handiwork, or if it was to gauge my state and what kind of reply she should give me.

  “Jake has to approach potential talent when he can, especially when an audition is coming up. I’m sure he would have preferred better timing if it were possible. As for why Robert wasn’t offered an audition…maybe they’re not looking for hand-balancers right now, or maybe he didn’t see what Robert’s capable of. I don’t know.”

  Rachel paused, but since no one jumped to speak, she continued. “It’s your decision, of course, but I understand that Cirque Celestial often make accommodations for family members to accompany performers on touring shows. They even set up schools for the children of artists. Jake speaks highly of the way they treat their employees—we certainly haven’t seen any reason to complain so far.”

  I nodded, then sipped my coffee again as I took a moment to process what Rachel had said. A good night’s sleep continued to elude me. When I wasn’t worrying about Simon, I tossed and turned about Robert. We talked briefly about the audition offer, with the entire conversation over in less than two minutes. I’d asked if Robert thought I should go for it, and he said it was my decision. Not wanting our quiet and relaxing Christmas day to dissolve into an argument, I’d let the matter drop, to be resurrected by my subconscious once I was tucked into bed.

  “That would be great, wouldn’t it, if McAllister could accompany you? Then you wouldn’t have to split up, well not that you’d split as a couple, you’d just be separated physically, geography-wise.” Becca smiled as she turned her focus back to my half-finished hair do.

  “But what would Robert do on the tour?” I frowned, as I peered into my mug. It was empty. “Assuming I audition, with the even greater assumption that I would be offered a position in the show.”

  Becca opened her mouth, but nothing came out, a rare occurrence for her. We both turned to Rachel, who had gone back to reading something on her phone. A few moments passed before Becca cleared her throat loudly to call her sister’s attention back to the conversation.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what he would do on the tour either.” Rachel shrugged. “I’m going into our contract fully aware I’ll only see Jake from time to time, and I think it’s why Becca has yet to decide what’s she going to do about Mario—which she needs to figure out soon.” She paused and sent an extremely pointed look in her sister’s direction. “Couples have managed long-distance before, and will continue doing so, but you need to decide if it’s right for you.”

  “You don’t have to remind me about Mario,” Becca muttered, as she turned to hunt through her make-up case for something she suddenly deemed crucially important for her efforts on my hair.

  “Would you mind asking Jake?” I was sure Robert wouldn’t be content to accompany me as an unemployed dependant. “It would help me make a decision about whether I’m going to audition.”

  “Of course.” Rachel gave me a grim little smile where her lips where mostly straight except for the very edges of her mouth.

  I sensed she wasn’t totally happy with Jake’s actions, but was practical enough to realize he was doing his job.

  “So, what are we going to put in your hair?” Becca held several different glittery hairbands and accessories in her hand. “I’m assuming you’d rather set yourself on fire than wear a veil?”

  ∞∞∞

  By the time I got home, I still had no messages from Simon. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about his desire to meet, realizing it wouldn’t do either of us any good? Was that too much to hope? Or maybe Emily and her family were keeping him too busy with holiday cheer for him to sneak away to message me? Whatever the reason, I mounted the stairs to our apartment with…optimism? Not really. I only had the tiniest hope that I might have something that resembled a peaceful afternoon.

  I could lounge around, read a little. Do some light stretching, but nothing too strenuous. It was the holidays after all. Aroun
d mid-way up the stairs it donned on me that our apartment was quiet. Odd. Normally Robert played music or listened to a podcast while he was in—had he decided to run some errands or go into the studio? I dug my phone out from the bottom of my shoulder bag, and switched it on, but found no new messages waiting for me.

  When I reached the top step to my apartment I paused and scanned the room. I dropped my phone, it thunked down several steps before stopping. I wanted to retrieve it. Retrieve it and head straight back out the door, but I was frozen in my spot. That hope that I’d felt as I’d started the ascent, shattered into a thousand pieces.

  “Beth,” Robert stood from his place on the couch, and took several quick, swinging steps over to me, like he knew I was considering bolting. As he approached, he gave me a…look, his jaw set tight, his nostrils flared.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.” When he spoke, Robert kept his voice measured, doing his best to stay calm. He relieved me of my bag, setting it on the floor next to the coat stand, and waited patiently, hand outstretched, for me to hand him my coat. “I see Becca’s been busy at work, arranging your hair.”

  I shook my head ever-so-slightly, curls bouncing around my face, as I unzipped my parka, trying to silently indicate to my fiancé that I hadn’t anticipated this. “And my make-up, and every last accessory that I’ll let her foist on me.”

  “She must be loving it.” Robert pasted a smile on his face.

  “I can barely contain her.” I likewise fixed my lips into my best performance smile as I turned toward our living space.

  Simon stood in the middle of the room dressed in another crisp collared shirt, shifting his hands from behind his back, then into his pockets, then clasped in front of him. Good. At least he had the sense to feel awkward about this.

  “I thought you were going to text me first,” I said, although I could have launched into an interrogation as to how he’d gotten my address. Had he followed me home the other day? Or had Miranda give him this piece of information as well?

  “Sorry, I…” Simon shoved his hands back into his pockets. “I had the chance to get away for a bit, so I did…”

  Robert pressed his hand into my back. “I’m going to make some coffee. Strong coffee. I’ll be back in a few.” Then he pecked me lightly on the cheek and hightailed it to the kitchen.

  It was past noon. I didn’t need more coffee. What I needed was a stiff drink, and maybe some lunch, but this was likely an excuse to get out of the room and let us have a moment to sort out our differences. With luck, when Robert meant strong coffee, he meant coffee with whiskey in it.

  “Simon,” I said as stepped into our living space, taking a seat on the sectional. “I’m going to try really hard to let you have your say, but you’ve invaded my home—I reserve the right to throw you out and never speak to you again.”

  Simon nodded, then moved to join me on the couch.

  “No.” I pointed across the room at one of the easy chairs. “You can sit over there if you don’t mind.”

  “Beth, I’m not going to do anything—and I’d prefer to not have to shout at you from across the room.” Simon continued to the sectional, seating himself an arm’s length away from me.

  I dropped the smile, as I backed up, so an entire cushion separated us. “Well?”

  Simon sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He let it drop into his lap. He looked as though he’d had about as much sleep as I had since we’d last seen each other—and then he’d already looked on the edge of exhaustion. “Have you really never thought about me since that Thanksgiving of freshman year?”

  I shrugged. “Not really.” I paused, but seeing the crestfallen expression pass over Simon’s face, I kept going. “I was busy. If I wasn’t in class, or a tutorial, or doing homework, I was at an aerial class. You were hundreds of miles away. I put you behind me. I didn’t have time for any steady boyfriends in college. And you didn’t email or write. How was I supposed to know you still cared?”

  “I’m not sure I still did, not right away, anyway.” Simon’s soft brown eyes scanned my face. The smallest of smiles pulled at the corner of his lips. “I think I mentioned the other day in the coffee shop, I met Emily first year. She distracted me for a while.”

  “For a while? You’re engaged to her now.” I didn’t want to get dragged into a full history of their relationship. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. Right now, Simon seemed convinced he was in love with me, and he needed to find a way around that—whether or not it was satisfactory to all parties.

  Simon looked away, at the coffee table where a few books, my laptop, and a random assortment of things were scattered. “I let our relationship go on for so long, it seemed the thing that everyone expected. Before last fall I hadn’t been home in a couple of years, so I lost track of you.”

  “My email never changed,” I said. Would it have made a difference if Simon had contacted me a few years ago? Before I left law school? Before I joined Circus of Flight? Who knew? I didn’t. I wanted to say no. No, it wouldn’t have changed anything, but really, was I sure?

  “I know,” Simon said quietly. He was fiddling with his ring finger again. “I thought about it, many times—”

  “Simon.” I closed my eyes for a moment as I inhaled. Stay calm. “I know you’re questioning things right now. I agreed to see you again so you could have some closure, not to play what if. I am getting married in five days to the man I love, who is currently in the kitchen making coffee, and trying very hard not to listen to us talk. If there’s anything I can say to you that will make it easier for you to move on, I will try to say it. Otherwise, I’m not sure what you’re doing here.”

  Simon was silent as he looked at me, his lips pressed together in a firm line. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, like he was choking down words he wanted to say, maybe a speech he’d planned to use to win me over. A minute passed, the two of us watching each other, breathing. Robert moved about in the kitchen. The fridge door opened and closed, plates clattered.

  Then Simon stood. “You’re right. I’m not sure what I’m doing here either.”

  I got to my feet and followed Simon, who walked toward the stairs.

  “I’m sorry.” Simon grabbed his jacket from the stand, which unbalanced it, and sent it clattering to the floor. We both moved to pick up it, and the other coats that were now strewn across the floor, banging heads in the process. Pain shot across my forehead along with a burst of stars.

  “Sorry.” Simon said again, as he reached for my head, pressing he hands to my scull in the practiced sort of way you would expect from a doctor. “Are you okay? God, I’m such an idiot.”

  I clutched Simon’s arms as I waited for my vision to clear. “I’m okay, just give me a sec.” Damn, that hurt.

  As I tried to gather my scattered thoughts, Simon gently lifted my chin. What the hell—was he going to try to kiss again, in my own home, my fiancé a few feet away? I jerked back and slammed my hip against the railing. “Fuck. Ouch.”

  Simon grabbed me by my elbows, steadying me. “Beth. Stop. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Do I have to remind you I’m a doctor? Almost.”

  I clenched my fists and closed my eyes as I breathed. Okay, I’d overreacted. Of course, Simon was doing what any physician would do, check over a patient who’d received a hard hit to the head. As I exhaled, I uncurled my fingers, and looked up at Simon. His eyebrows were drawn low, and his lips were puckered to one side. Nothing about this meeting had gone the way he’d hoped.

  I touched his forearm lightly. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  Rather than attempt to examine me again, Simon slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, adjusted how it sat across his back, then buttoned it up. “Say goodbye to your fiancé for me—and thanks for the privacy. I’m sure he’d like to get out of the kitchen soon.”

  I laughed, not that there was much humour behind it. “You’d be surprised how much time he spends in the kitchen—he’s the one who keeps us fed.”

&nb
sp; The corners of Simon’s mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “I’m glad he takes care of you, you deserve it.”

  It felt cruel to sing Robert’s praises when Simon was so evidently disappointed. I merely nodded. “I’ll see you out.”

  I turned and led the way down the narrow stairs, pausing briefly to retrieve my cell phone. When I reached the bottom of our narrow entryway, I motioned for Simon to shuffle past me. Wordlessly he stooped to grab his footwear, sliding his feet into his boots. “What’re you going to do about Emily?” I said as he dug through his jacket pockets.

  Simon withdrew a key fob from his pocket and looked at it for a moment rather than at me. It was none of my business to ask about his fiancée—she possibly had no idea any of this…stuff…between Simon and me had taken place—but someone needed to remember there was another heart on the line.

  “You don’t have to tell me, of course, just…don’t leave her hanging. Don’t let yourself go through with a wedding if you don’t love her.” I crossed my arms over my chest as I waited for Simon to say something or leave. He didn’t seem inclined to do either, simply standing there with a glum look on his face.

  After what felt like several minutes, but was more likely mere seconds, I touched Simon’s elbow. Slowly, he lifted his head, his focus settling on me, the expression in his eyes feeling like it went on for years. Even though I knew I didn’t love him, pain shot through my chest anyway. I’d never been a heartbreaker before—nor did I wish to be now.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you’re looking for.” Then I reached on tiptoe, to kiss Simon on the cheek.

  With the kiss, Simon seemed to return to life. He breathed out heavily and gave his head a quick shake. “Goodbye,” he said, then walked out the door.