Chapter 69

Nadia's POV
I stepped out of the Vandercant Theater into the spring afternoon. Three months had passed since the dramatic finale of The Proposition, which had transformed from an obscure off-Broadway production into a surprise hit. My phone buzzed with a text from Braden:
Dinner at 7. Big surprise. Don't be late this time. xx
I smiled, tucking the phone away. Our relationship had deepened since that final performance when he'd crashed through the door to save me. "I'm never letting you go again," he'd whispered then—surprisingly sincere words from a man who'd once been desperate to convince his parents he wasn't gay.
The Proposition had extended its run twice. The New York Times had called my performance "a revelation from newcomer Nadia Mitchell," and Vandercant's investment had paid off beyond expectations.
More surprising was how my unconventional arrangement with the four men had evolved. The York Avenue brownstone still housed all five of us, but what began as a bizarre agreement—Braden needing a fake girlfriend, Ryan wanting sex, Andy seeking romance, and Dorian desiring friendship—had become something more stable than any relationship I'd known before.
At a coffee shop, the barista mentioned, "Heard your show's selling out every night."
"We've been lucky," I replied with my Midwestern humility.
"Luck has nothing to do with it. You're incredible."
I continued home, thinking about Braden's surprise. He wasn't typically mysterious—that was Dorian's style—making the message intriguing.
The brownstone was unusually quiet when I arrived. Andy appeared from the kitchen with a screwdriver, having grown more confident in recent months.
"Hey," he said, giving me a quick kiss. "How was rehearsal?"
"Good. Carmina added new vocal runs that are killing me." I gestured to the half-fixed cabinet. "What are you working on?"
"Loose hinge. Braden mentioned it."
"Always fixing things," I said. "Have you seen Ryan?"
"Still at the theater with Dorian." Andy looked at me carefully. "Did you get Braden's text?"
"About dinner? Yeah." I studied his expression. "Do you know what the surprise is?"
Andy's eyes darted away—a tell I'd learned to read. "I might know something."
"Andy..." I began, stepping closer.
He backed away. "I promised not to say anything. Remember what happened with Ryan's birthday?"
I did. Dorian had let plans slip, resulting in a week of melodramatic sulking that only ended with Rangers tickets.
"Fine," I sighed. "But if this is another of Dorian's exotic food experiments, I'm ordering pizza."
"It's not that. It's... bigger."
Something in his tone made me pause, noticing the tension in his shoulders. Before I could ask more, the front door opened, and Ryan's voice filled the foyer.
"Honey, I'm home!" An inside joke that had somehow become sincere.
"There she is," Dorian said, kissing my cheek. "The star of the hour."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked suspiciously. "You're all acting weird."
"We're not acting weird," Ryan said, grabbing a beer. "You're acting weird."
Dorian rolled his eyes. "Eloquent as always, Ryan."
"Where's Braden?" I asked.
"Meeting with Vandercant about future projects," Dorian answered, hanging up his jacket.
The three men exchanged a look I couldn't interpret. Something was definitely happening.
"I'm going to take a bath," I announced. "Try not to burn the house down."
"That only happened once," Ryan called after me, referencing his flambéed banana incident.
At 6:58 PM, I descended the stairs in a simple black dress, finding Braden waiting in a tailored navy suit.
"You look stunning," he said, kissing me.
"What's the occasion?" I asked.
"You'll see. Car's waiting."
Outside, a Town Car idled at the curb. As we rode, I noticed Braden's bouncing knee—a nervous tic I'd come to recognize.
"Are the others joining us?" I asked.
"No, just us tonight. I wanted time alone before... well, before everything."
"Before what?" I pressed, concerned.
"Nothing bad, I promise. Quite the opposite."
The car stopped at Eleven Madison Park, a notoriously exclusive restaurant.
"How did you—"
"Vandercant pulled strings," Braden explained.
Inside, we were escorted to a private room where John Vandercant waited. "There she is," he said warmly. "The woman of the hour."
"Mr. Vandercant," I began, "what's going on?"
The producer looked at Braden before answering. "I received a call yesterday from an old colleague in London."
My heart skipped. London. The West End.
"Cameron Mackintosh's casting director," Vandercant continued. "They're doing a major revival of The Phantom of the Opera for the 40th anniversary. Complete reinterpretation, younger cast, new orchestrations."
"And they called you because...?" I felt my voice trembling slightly.
"They want you to audition for Christine," Braden interjected excitedly.
The room seemed to tilt. Christine Daaé—the role every soprano dreamed of playing. The role I'd dreamed of since I was a girl in Iowa.
"But that's not all," Vandercant added. "They're interested in Braden for Raoul and Dorian for the Phantom."
"Is this real?" I whispered.
"Very. They saw the footage of The Proposition and were impressed with your chemistry. Special auditions in two weeks."
"In London?"
"Yes. And if you get the parts, rehearsals would begin almost immediately."
"Moving to London," I realized. "All three of us."
My excitement collided with apprehension. London meant leaving the brownstone—leaving Ryan and Andy. Two parts of my heart.
"What about Ryan and Andy?" I asked.
"That's the complicated part," Braden admitted. "They'd stay here, at least initially. Ryan's contract runs another year, and Andy just started the lighting project for the new performing arts center."
"Have you talked to them about this?"
"Yes. That's why everyone was acting strange earlier."
"And they're okay with it?"
Braden hesitated. "They want what's best for your careers."
"Nothing is decided yet," Vandercant reminded me. "This is just an audition. But it's an opportunity that doesn't come along often."
I tried processing everything. Christine Daaé. The West End. Leaving Ryan and Andy behind. The unconventional relationship we'd built, now facing its first real test.
"When do we leave?" I asked finally.
"Next Thursday," Braden replied. "Dorian's already researching apartments in Covent Garden."
Of course he was. Dorian would be thrilled at the prospect of London's fashion and culture.
I took a deep breath. This was what I had dreamed of since watching the Phantom anniversary concert as a girl.
"Well," I said, raising my glass, "I guess we'd better start practicing our British accents."
Braden smiled with relief, and Vandercant chuckled.
"To new beginnings," the producer toasted.
"To new beginnings," I echoed, even as I thought about the endings that would accompany them.
As the champagne arrived, I found myself caught between exhilaration and anxiety. London offered the role of a lifetime, but accepting it would mean reimagining the balance I'd found with my four partners.
For now, I would celebrate and dream of West End spotlights. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face what leaving New York—and potentially Ryan and Andy—would truly mean.