Page 106 of One Last Encore

He grinned. "I like seeing you squirm."

She shot him a playful but pointed look. "Careful. I have mace in my purse and exactly zero patience."

Beck just laughed and gave the driver an address she didn’t recognize.

Fifteen minutes and a thousand guesses later, the cab rolled to a stop. She looked out the window and blinked. A small vintage theater stood before them, marquee glowing softly like something out of a dream.

They walked inside, and Beck handed a folded bill to the attendant, then turned to her with that same mysterious grin.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are we seeing?"

"No spoilers."

She gave him a long, skeptical look. "Is it puppets?"

He paused. "…Maybe."

She groaned, her eyes rolling. "If they sing, I swear to God–"

"You’ll love it," he said. "Probably."

And damn it, she followed. Her heart was already pounding.

"What are you up to, Beck?" she asked, narrowing her eyes but unable to keep the smile off her face.

"You’ll see," he replied, holding the door open.

The theater was dimly lit and completely empty. As they took their seats, the screen flickered to life, and when the opening credits of The Red Shoes appeared, her breath hitched. She hadn’t watched it in years.

She turned to Beck, but he wasn’t watching the movie, he was watching her. His expression was soft like he was savoring every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

By the time the credits rolled, she felt both raw and full all at once, as if he’d reached inside her chest and pulled at everytender string. It settled deeply, leaving her struggling to find words. Ingrid sat there, staring at him.

"You planned this," she said, half question, half accusation.

Beck leaned back in his seat. "What gave it away? The private screening? The nostalgia overload? Or the part where you definitely cried at the end?"

"I did not cry," she shot back, even as she casually swiped the corner of her eye.

He didn’t argue. Just raised an eyebrow and held out his hand to help her up, his expression deeply unconvinced.

Outside, she let the night air cool her flushed cheeks as they walked. She was still reeling from the film, from his thoughtfulness. Of how well he remembered. She was mid-recovery when they turned the corner and she froze. Her gaze snapped to the neon sign glowing above the entrance.

"The Halloween bar?" she blurted, blinking in disbelief.

Beck pulled the door open with a grand sweep of his arm, gesturing for her to go in.

Inside, almost nothing had changed. The warm glow of the lights, the low hum of conversation, the faint scent of spiced rum lingering in the air. It was like stepping into a memory she hadn’t been ready to revisit. And yet, here she was.

At the bar, Beck ordered a seltzer. Ingrid hesitated, scanning the list.

"Would it make you uncomfortable if I ordered wine?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his face.

His brows lifted slightly, then he shook his head with a soft smile. "Not at all. Order what you want, Ingrid."

"Okay," she said, quietly. "Just checking."

When their drinks arrived, Beck clinked his seltzer against her glass.

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