Page 108 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“I still can’t believe that woman loved me,” he says wistfully.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, hopefully lightly enough. “I’m sure you were lovable once.”

He looks over at me, and when he meets my eyes, he actually laughs. It’s the first time I’ve even seen him smile, and it stirs something inside me.

Happiness.

I’m starting to see the common thread of what has made me happy this summer, now that I’ve really tuned in. It’s the one thing I’ve continued to push away—other people. Relationships. Connection. The real kind, where I admit to the ugly parts of my life and let the chips fall where they may.

The one thing that scares me the most is the thing that’s been missing all along.

I’ve let my own embarrassment keep me so isolated, and now I wonder if that’s been the problem all along.

I don’t wonder. I know. Ithasbeen the problem.

I’ve built myself a lonely life.

I press my lips together, unsure how to ask for clarification on something I don’t think he wanted to talk about in the first place. “Why do you think I could be a great director?”

His thin eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t peg you as one to go compliment fishing.”

I laugh to myself. “I swear I’m not. I just... never really thought of myself as a director.”

“Your ego told you that you wanted to be the one getting all the applause,” he says, not unkindly.

“No, I—” But I stop myself. Because maybe he’s right. Was it pride that has kept me isolated?

“Maybe,” I admit. “I mean, I love the work, but I think...” One glance at him, and I know he’s listening. And oddly? Not judging.I cross one leg over the other and scoot back in the chair. “I’ve always wanted to perform. For as long as I can remember, that has been my dream.”

“And now?”

I shake my head and shrug. Because now? I have no idea.

An odd sense of peace comes over me when I entertain the idea of pivoting. Or at least being open to the idea of pivoting.

“Annie always said I had a superpower.” He rests his hands on his lap, and his head bobs ever so slightly, perhaps involuntarily. “But she made it clear I donotlook good in capes.”

I smile at that. “I wish I’d known her. She sounds so wonderful.” I pause, then add, “And anyone who could put up with you must be a saint.”

“That’s a fact.” He chuckles softly.

“So, what is this superpower?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He tilts his head and looks at me. “She said I can see things in people they can’t see in themselves.” His smile turns a bit rueful. “You have that same gift.”

I laugh off the comparison. “Oh, come on. We’re so far apart from one another, you may as well compare apples and car batteries.”

He meets my eyes across the aisle, and I try not to let myself get caught up in how unexpected—and wonderful—this conversation is. “Nobody else wanted to cast Grace as Cinderella, but you saw something in her. And you were right.” He points at me as he says this. “She’s a beautiful Cinderella. And Dylan! Everyone thought you were crazy for bringing her on board, but look at how she’s blossomed.”

And then, eyes going serious again, he says, “I’ve also noticed that, like me, you don’t share much about yourself.”

“Perceptive.”

He taps his nose. “Superpower.”

“Maybe you hold back because you’re a deep thinker,” he says. “And a deep feeler.”

I’ve never thought of myself as either... but now that I hear someone else say it, it makes sense.

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