Page 28 of Mr. Merry Ex-Mas
I right my back. “You don’t get to play the noble card like you’re protecting me from myself.”
Danny stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he steps in, just close enough but still not touching. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do,” he whispers, “is add a little excitement to your life. And a little beauty to mine.”
The background noise fades away as the pounding of my heart fills my ears. I hold his gaze for a moment, then pull my clipboard in tighter and force my voice steady. “I don’t need excitement, and I don’t need a savior.”
I ignore his beauty comment and walk away from him and his words that have my head spinning right now. I don’t look back because if he follows, I might turn around and tell him I do need a savior.
19
DANNY
“Okay, we need tighter spacing in scene three. Ella, you’re too far stage-left. Liam, stop twirling that candy cane. It’s a prop, not a walking stick.”
A few tired chuckles come from the kids as Sadie barks more orders. They’ve been here all afternoon, and this is the third run-through. She always finds something that isn’t right and wants to run it again from the beginning.
I lean against the side wall with a cold cup of coffee. I’ve been banished to tech support, which is a nice way to say,“Stand over there and don’t talk.” She snapped at me, and I’ll admit her words stung, but I also know she didn’t mean them. She’s lashing out because her nerves are high over this gala. I’ll let it slide because I’m about to test her. She says she doesn't need excitement. So maybe I’ll show her how much she really doesn't need it, and continue holding up this wall while the excitement unfolds.
She shoots me a look as if she can hear my thoughts. She’s mad and stressed, and though she doesn’t want to talk to me, she can't help herself and snipes out an order anyway.
“If you’re going to loiter,” she says, “at least pretend to check the speaker wires, Mr. Love.”
The sound guys raise a brow at her tone, and I just continue to sip my coffee. “They’re emotionally aligned and spiritually grounded. Sound is all about vibes.”
She exhales through her nose, tight and annoyed, especially when the crew around us chuckle. “You’re exhausting.”
“And yet,” I say with a grin, “I’m still the school's Christmas hero and your favorite unpaid volunteer.”
She doesn’t answer me; she just claps twice, clipboard snapping against her palm. “Let’s reset from the top of Scene Three. Places, please!”
As the kids shuffle into place, she runs through her checklist in her mind. I can see it just by the way she glances at everything as the kids assemble. She looks to the light crew, the prop guys, the sound machine. She runs through every possible way the act could go wrong and has a backup for it immediately in her mind.
Because if she doesn’t control it, something could go wrong that makes her look bad. And shecan’tlet that happen.
She told me two hours ago she doesn’t need saving, and I almost believe her.
That’s why I’m not going to save her.
I’m going to remind her she never needed to be afraid of something going wrong in the first place. She just needs to go with the flow if it does.Whenit does. Because let’s be honest, life isn’t perfect, no matter how much you plan.
So, I step behind the curtain and note the breaker box is right where I remember it. I open the panel and flip the switch, and everything goes dark.
There are gasps and some screams, chairs scrape the floor, and the hum of everyone in the place starts to build, but above all, I hear her. Her voice is loud, speaking steady words of assurance as she tries to control the scene.
“Everyone, stay calm. Emergency lights should kick on any second.”
They won’t because I killed those, too.
She fumbles for her phone, which is not in her pocket but on the stage because she has to make sure she is filming the background scenes to ensure everything is in its place.
Too organized, Sadie.
And now, her panic starts to creep in. I can hear it in her voice. “Lighting crew? How long for the emergency lights?” Some murmurs come from them, and then she asks again, her voice on edge. “Crew? What’s going on?”
I pull out my phone and flick on the flashlight as I approach her in the dark.
“Boo.”
She shields her eyes from the light I’m shining, but there’s no mistaking the glare she has for me. Through gritted teeth, she says, “Now’s not the time.”
