Page 88 of The Maine Event

I hit decline and drop the phone back in my bag. “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Tonight is about Chloe.”

But even as I say it, I feel the ghost of my old instincts twitching. The part of me that never let a call go unanswered. That measured self-worth in responsiveness and resolution times. For years, I let work infiltrate every corner of my life like a slow leak—until it eroded everything personal I could have built.

Not tonight.

Tonight, I’m not a marketer or a strategist or a brand whisperer. I’m not the woman chasing validation in boardrooms and rebrands. I’m just Rachel. Someone who got lucky enough to be here, on this night, in this seat, about to watch a girl I’ve come to love do something extraordinary.

It’s strange, this sense of wholeness. Foreign, but welcome. Like slipping into a version of myself I didn’t realize I’d been missing. One who chooses presence over performance. One who understands that sometimes, the most important deal you ever make… is to simply show up.

And I’m all in.

As we settle into our seats, I look around at the faces of all the other proud parents, grandparents, and siblings. The love and support in this room is palpable.

The lights dim and a hush falls over the audience. The velvet curtains part and a single spotlight illuminates the stage. There, in the center, stands Chloe. She looks so poised and confident, her midnight blue dress shimmering under the lights.

As the first notes of her song fill the theater, I feel Dan’s hand find mine, our fingers intertwining. Chloe’s voice rings out pure and strong, the melody wrapping around us like a warm embrace.

“She’s incredible,” Dan says, his voice thick with emotion.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I watch Chloe pour her heart into every word, and everything else fades away. The stress of creating a new agency from scratch, the pressure of delivering my very best work for Harcourt Foods, the constant buzz of my phone, the weight of expectations. All that matters is the beautiful, brave girl on that stage and the man beside me.

As Chloe hits the final soaring note, Dan and I leap to our feet, our cheers mingling with the thunderous applause that erupts from the crowd.

Pride surges through me, so fierce and overwhelming that it feels physical. I steal a glance at Dan. His eyes are fixed on Chloe, awe and pride etched into every line of his face. He’s not the same man who accidentally burst into my motel room. There’s a softness to him now, a peace. And I wonder if he sees the change in me, too. I wonder if he feels it—that subtle but seismic shift in how I see the world.

Once, I would’ve watched Chloe perform through a lens of performance metrics—how well she projected, how her stage presence might read on video, how the judges might perceive her. Now, all I see is her bravery. The way she stands in front of hundreds of strangers and dares to be seen.

I feel something crack open in me, wide and tender. Because maybe that’s what love really is—not a grand gesture or a declaration made in front of a studio audience. Maybe it’s this. Sitting beside someone who helps you see what truly matters. Cheering for a girl who trusted you enough to let you into her life.

And just like that, I know—I’m not just here to witness a performance. I’m here to witness a transformation. Hers. Mine. Ours.

“Go, Chloe!” Dan shouts, his face split in a grin that rivals the spotlight.

Chloe takes a bow, her eyes scanning the audience until they land on us. Her smile is radiant, filled with the pure, unbridled joy of a dream realized. In that smile, I see a reflection of the woman she’ll become—strong, resilient, chasing her passions with reckless abandon.

I lean into Dan’s side, his arm coming to wrap around my shoulders. “Have you come round now about the dress?” I ask.

“I have,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You were right. She’s not a child anymore. She looks amazing.”

“And it doesn’t make you nervous?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m terrified.”

I turn to face Dan fully, my hand coming up to rest on his chest. His heart beats a steady rhythm beneath my palm, as constant and sure as the man himself. His eyes, so often guarded, sometimes haunted even, are now open and warm, reflecting the stage lights like stars.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely audible over the ongoing applause. “For inviting me into your life, into Chloe’s life. I didn’t know how much I needed you both until now.”

Dan’s hand covers mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Thank you for being here, for seeing us. For choosing us.”

Dan opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but instead, he pulls me in closer. The gesture says it all. Safe. Steady. Here.

For a moment, I let myself truly feel it—the gravity of being chosen, of choosing back. It’s easy to take for granted that love will be chaotic, like the ones we’re told about in movies and novels. But this—this quiet, consistent presence—it’s the kind of love that builds a life. That holds you steady when everything else is spinning.

I press my cheek to his shoulder and close my eyes, allowing myself to believe in the simple beauty of this night. The stage lights, the music still echoing in my chest, Chloe’s triumph still reverberating through the crowd like thunder.

If I’d answered Harcourt’s call, I’d probably be knee-deep in details, talking timelines and deliverables. But I didn’t. I’m here. And the version of me that’s learning to stay present, to love fully, is more than capable of leading an agencyandshowing up for the people she loves.

I’m not giving up who I was. I’m just making space for who I’ve become.

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