Page 66 of Barre Fight
On the subway back downtown, Ivy had dozed off with her head on his shoulder, and Justin had sat as still as he could as the train trundled and swayed, not even shifting when one of his legs started to go numb on the hard plastic seat. When he shook her gently a few stops before they needed to get off, she rubbed her face against his shoulder, then looked up at him and blinked as though slowly realizing where she was. In that moment he’d been seized by the need to kiss her, and then to ask her if he could keep kissing her after tomorrow. After this was all over. Now that he knew how good things could be between them.
The thought of asking—and her saying no—was terrifying. He knew how bad things could be between them, too, and as long as he didn’t ask, he wouldn’t have to hear her say it was done. She’d sat there, gazing up at him with her green, still-sleepy eyes, and he’d teetered on the edge of the question until the train was screeching to stop at their station and they had to stand up. And then it was a rush back to the hotel and the theater, and he had to do his makeup and get warm, and Ivy went back to the hotel to change for the performance and the cocktail reception that would follow. The whole time, though, he was thinking about what she would have said if he’d asked.
“One last time?” Alice said, sidling up beside him and throwing one foot onto the barre. To her usual warm up jacket and legwarmers, she’d added a gaudy “I NY” scarf. She looked cozy, and a little exhausted.
“I’m ready if you are.”
Kat, Matty, and Ricky were waiting in the wings, the music was starting, and before he knew it, the curtain was coming down on the first ballet and he and Alice were setting themselves in their respective wings, the packed house was quieting down, and he was walking out onto the Lincoln Center stage for the last time on this tour.
Maybe his last time ever, because who knew when the company would come back to New York, and who knew how long he’d be able to dance? Ballet careers could end in the blink of an eye and the snap of an Achilles tendon. They all knew this, and they never knew if or when a career-ending injury was coming for them.
All he knew was that he was here now, and that if he hadn’t been willing to give Ivy a chance—and if she hadn’t been willing to help him—he wouldn’t be where he was tonight. Justin took a deep breath in the wings and resolved to leave everything he had out on the stage. For himself, but for her, too.
As he danced, he willed himself to stay focused on Alice, on where her body was in space and how it was moving next to him or under his hands. But a part of his mind was on Ivy. In the still moments of the ballet, when he was catching his breath and counting beats waiting for his turn to dance, he drifted, imagining himself far away from this stage and this theater. He was back in Sydney, out in the bush on a quiet track away from the noise of the city. He was sweating in the dappled sunlight. Ankle deep in a cold stream. Waking up to the sound of chattering birds with Ivy’s wide, sleepy green eyes blinking up at him. He was home, and she was there.
When the pianist played the final note and the lights faded to black, the audience erupted into applause, bombarding the lowering curtain with sound. Justin and Alice waited until the curtain hit the stage, then disentangled their bodies from their final pose and grinned at each other in the semi-darkness.
“I think that was the best we’ve ever done it,” Alice said, holding her hand up for a high-five. “Way to go out on a high.”
Justin smiled back and slapped her palm, then nodded at the curtain. “They seem to agree.”
“Let’s give ’em one last show.”
They arranged themselves side by side at center stage and waited for the curtain to rise again. When it did, the applause swept over them in a wave, and Justin felt it reverberating in his chest. They took their bows, and then Justin gestured Alice forward so she could bow alone at the front of the stage. She sank into a deep, controlled curtsy, demure and ladylike, and Justin grinned, knowing full well that if she had her way, she’d be trying to twerk right now. He’d just stepped forward and taken his own bow when a movement in the wings caught the corner of his eye. The pianist had arrived and was walking to join them for her own bows.
They both turned to welcome her onto the stage, and Justin’s jaw dropped. The woman walking towards them in a glittering caftan, her curly hair bouncing and her perfectly made-up face split by a wide grin directed right at Alice, wasn’t the pianist. It was?—
“Izzy?” Alice shrieked, just as Justin muttered, “What the fuck?”
Izzy kept walking, sailing confidently across the stage like she’d spent all week dancing on it. He and Alice stared at her, and the audience’s applause faltered a little, as though they’d been expecting the pianist, too, but were pretty sure this wasn’t her. Next to him, Alice was staring, her mouth hanging open,and the audience seemed to notice as Izzy approached that something was amiss, because the applause all but died out as she reached them.
“What are you doing here?” Alice asked, stunned. “How did you get here?”
“I flew,” Izzy sassed her, and Justin couldn’t stop a chuckle from slipping out. Alice stared at her girlfriend, then up at Justin.
“Did you know about this?” she hissed. He shook his head. “I—you—I don’t know what—” Alice started, before finally settling on, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s wonderful.” Izzy grinned, her earrings sparkling under the stage lights. “You’re wonderful. You’re wonderful, and perfect, and the woman of my dreams, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Alice stared at her, plainly not taking in what was happening in front of her. Or that it was happening in front of a sold-out, standing-room-only crowd at Lincoln Center. Justin understood, though, and he took a large step backwards so he was no longer standing between the two women. And just in time, because a second later Izzy slipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out a white velvet box, then knelt in front of a still-agape Alice and opened it.
The audience let out a collective gasp that swallowed whatever sound Alice made as she brought her hands to her mouth. Justin took another few steps back and glanced across the stage into the wings, where a crowd of stage crew and dancers had gathered and were watching as Izzy knelt in front of Alice, whose tear-filled eyes were sparkling as much as the ring Izzy was holding up.
There was a long pause in which the entire theater seemed to hold its breath, and Justin watched as Alice stood, unmoving,her eyes locked on Izzy’s. Had Izzy flown all this way to ask this question, just to be rejected in front of thousands of people?
Then someone out in the house yelled, “Say yes!” and Alice laughed, tears skittering down her face. The tension in the theater broke, and the audience murmured its own laugh.
“Yes,” Justin saw Alice say to Izzy, stretching out a hand to cradle the side of her face. “Yes!” she cried, the word half a sob, and Izzy’s smile grew somehow even wider.
Alice pulled her fiancée to her feet and kissed her, and the audience burst into applause louder than any Justin had heard all week. People whooped and whistled, and some lifted their phones into the air to capture the moment, as Alice and Izzy wrapped their arms around each other. Justin watched as they held each other tight, smiling and crying, whispering unheard things into each other’s ears.
The scene seemed to slow and freeze, and Justin looked out at the audience, where only the faces in the first few rows were visible. Ivy was seated further back than that, he knew, but he couldn’t help looking out into the dark to try to find her face. Just like he couldn’t help wondering if the sight of Izzy declaring herself to Alice had made her stomach ache with longing and envy the way his had. What would it be like to love someone that much, to be so sure they were the one for you?
What kind of courage did it take to do what Izzy just did, and in front of the whole world? Justin didn’t know if he’d ever have that kind of strength, but as he stood there behind the two embracing women, the ecstatic applause washing over him, he made a decision: tonight, he was going to find the courage to lay out everything he wanted—and hope that she wanted it, too.
ChapterEighteen
The lobby of the theater was full of high-top tables, each one decorated with a small potted orchid and a flickering votive. At one end of the enormous room, a jazz band was playing—how fitting that she’d get to hear more jazz on her last night in New York—and at the other, black-vested waiters were pouring cocktails and champagne at a temporary bar.
