CHAPTER 45 (1)

Two and a Half Years Later “Why is it always prodigal sons and never prodigal daughters?” Andie’s voice comes over the phone as I shift into the limo outside the terminal at DFW. “Maybe women are smart enough not to go back.” “Or they didn’t leave it so long in the first place.” As the car pulls away, I slide my sunglasses up my nose. “Going home might be the worst idea you’ve had since becoming my roommate.” “It wasn’t my idea. Haley invited you on behalf of her and your dad. I just played the dead dad card and reminded you that it sucks not to have a dad in the first place.” “You’re right. And I’ll be back in New York first thing Monday. You won’t even notice I’m gone,” I say as we wind our way through the mass of ramps and overpasses. “Well, someone noticed. He’s been knocking on the door again.” Just what I need. “I’ll handle him.” “Oh, I don’t care about that. But I think he’s upset you’re not handling him.” Silence grabs the line for a beat, two. “It’s only been a month,” Andie goes on, softer this time. “You okay?” “Emotionally, yes. Ian and I are over. But dating someone you work with—someone you can’t stop working with even after you split—is like getting bangs. It seems like a great idea and then three months later, you’re crying into a bucket.” Andie’s delighted laughter makes me smile. “You’ve been living with me too long.” We hang up, and I settle into the drive, unsure of whether I want it to go faster or slower as we pass familiar buildings and streets. I have a career in entertainment I’ve built myself. Playbills with my name on them, even if I was only onstage twenty minutes a night. An actual apartment in New York. Friends I can count on. But life is about to ask me a question. I feel it in the air. And right now, the air has me tingling. Too soon, the car pulls up the driveway, and I punch in the gate code. The winding drive is the same as I remember, but now there’s a second lane way that runs parallel on the other side of the fence. It runs up the property and around the house. Interesting. On that loop, a valet is parking cars, and there are at least fifty—mostly expensive late-model, with a few classics thrown in. “Go to the front,” I instruct my driver. By the time I’m out of the car, Haley’s already emerging from the double doors. She’s wearing a yellow dress that’s feminine and no-nonsense at once and looks gorgeous with her dark hair. I can’t help but grin. But my gaze lands on her round stomach, and I suck in a breath. “You look ready to pop.” “And you look great.” She beams and folds me in a hug. It feels good to hug her. These past couple of years, we’ve gotten closer even though I’ve been away. Strange how you can feel close to someone you never see except on occasional video calls. “Emily!” I pull back to see a tiny human in the doorway in a green dress, pigtails in her dark hair and fists on her waist. “You came for my party,” she states. The air vanishes from my lungs. My half sister isn’t a toddler anymore. She’s got Haley’s bow mouth and amber eyes like mine and the last time I saw Sophie in person, she couldn’t say a complete sentence. All of which makes it hard to respond in kind. “Sure did. But I heard it was Dad’s party.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s for me. Those are my friends.” She points back over her shoulder and I swallow the laugh. Her eyes brighten as she inspects me. “What’s in there?” She points to the weekender bag the limo driver set by the door. “A party dress. You want to see?” “Uh-huh.” Then she turns on her heel and takes off back into the house. Haley rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s Sophia. She broods like your dad and laughs like me but we still don’t know where the energy comes from.” “I’m sure we’ll have time to hang out later. Anyway, sorry I’m late. We sat on the tarmac two hours because of a baggage issue. Looks like the party’s started,” I say as I nod toward the cars. “It has, but the path to your room is clear if you’d like to get changed.” Haley starts to grab my bag, but I step in. “Don’t you dare.” She leads the way through the house. Sounds of the party drift through the hallways, but aside from glimpses of stylish figures wearing casual suits and chic summer dresses in the kitchen and living room and patio beyond, there’s no one in our path as we head upstairs. “We’re so glad you came,” Haley starts. “I know you’ve been busy working on your new show.” “It’s not every day Dad launches a music label. I never thought he’d go through with it.” “Me either. He’s talked about it long enough, but I figured it was his way of complaining about his former label when he sees Mace and the guys from the band.” When I push open the door of my old bedroom, I freeze. It’s exactly the way I remember. My music boxes line the shelves, the same duvet covers the bed. I set my bag down and swallow the emotion that rises up. I had been expecting it to hit when I saw the house, but for some reason, it’s coming now with my stepmom watching me, one hand on her swollen stomach and her lips softly curved. “This will always be your home,” she says firmly. “No matter what.” “Thank you,” I say and mean it. Haley leaves, and I turn back to my suitcase, pulling out the backless purple dress with a deep V neckline and the strappy sandals that show off my legs, toned from dancing. Thanks to being on stage eight times a week, I have makeup and hair down to a science. Once my eyeliner is done, my lips are slicked a coral pink in honor of summer, and my hair waves down my back, I step into the dress. This place may not have changed, but I have. Now that the run of my show is over, my hair’s back to its natural dark red and starting to grow out, still a couple of inches past my shoulders. My body was always lean, but now it’s strong from dance and long hours of rehearsing. I don’t have ready access to a pool since the building Andie and I live in doesn’t have one, but I do try to hit the gym three days a week and eat well in order to sustain the pace of my lifestyle. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being in this industry? You have to want it—more than anything. Even then, your dreams find ways to mess with you. When I head downstairs, there are a ton of people in the great room and spilling out to the patio. I scan the room, but most faces are only vaguely familiar at best. I don’t see my dad or Haley or even Sophia. At the bar, I accept the offered glass of champagne from the attractive bartender who checks me out with a grin as he passes me the glass, but I’m thrown when two strong arms band around me from behind. I spin around and delight surges through me. “Uncle Rudy!” I fold him in a hug. “Good to see you, kid. How long are you staying?” “Just for the weekend. I couldn’t miss the party.” “I didn’t know you were coming.” Surprise works through me, but before I can comment, there’s a light clinking of glasses and we follow the crowd through the open doors to the patio. My dad is standing in the center of the crowd, a polite circle formed around him. My hand tightens on the stem of the champagne flute. He’s wearing a dark jacket over his jeans, his hair casually styled without any hint of gray. The hard cut of his jaw and nose haven’t changed, but I swear there’re more lines when his eyes crinkle against the sun. I haven’t been home since first semester at Vanier, though I talk to Haley on video or audio calls at least once a month. Sophie makes appearances almost every time, but my dad does drive-bys only on occasion—as if he, like me, knows things between us aren’t okay. I know he offered to meet me halfway after Timothy got hurt, but it felt as if he saw what happened to Timothy as proof I fucked up by moving to New York, by straying from his protection. So I focused on achieving my dreams on my own. I’ve survived months I didn’t know if I’d make enough money to keep the lights on, weeks of ice baths after endless dance rehearsals until my limbs ached. All for the chance to be on stage.