Page 24 of Unbreakable
“Number sixty-seven!”
I jumped up as my number was called, stepping forward with a bow of my head to say thanks. I folded my hands on my tailbone and held my shoulders and head high with a smile. This could be a big one.
And when my number was called again to sing, I walked out with no nerves. I handed the piano player my sheet music and stepped to the front of the stage.
“I’m Jeanine Wendlock. This is ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do.’”
The song choice was perfect for my situation. Much like Rizzo in Grease, I was pregnant and facing a big choice. Many could call me trashy, a flirt. I literally met the guy waiting for me outside while I was serving him drinks at a bar, then went home with him that night. I had no shame about that, but some people would take exception. So yeah, if I were any character in Grease, it certainly wouldn’t be Sandra Dee.
I hit every note, had seamless vibrato, and belted the climax without a flaw.
It was my best audition ever. If I didn’t land a part in the chorus, or maybe even the main cast, they’d have to be delusional. And not to mention, the little nugget growing in my uterus was making my rack look better than ever.
That damn nugget had me questioning everything.
Did I want to go through with the grueling hours of another production? Of working while rehearsing? I’d done it all. I’d been in the chorus. I’d had a few lead roles. I had an IMDB page from films where I occupied the background. Headshots, hair and makeup, endless dance classes, voice lessons, and rehearsals. I’d done it all.
And I could do it again.
Or did I want the life Dylan was offering me? Stability, love, and support. It’s not singing and dancing for applause, but a quieter joy. Granted, the nature of his work made him gone a lot, but I’d have the support of other wives and girlfriends, most of whom I’d loved when I met them.
I got in Dylan’s SUV when he picked me up from auditions. He greeted me with a broad smile. I was amazed at howunderstanding he was being, not pushing me once either way. The only thing he’d asked of me was to stop smoking in case I chose the baby. I’d already quit so it wasn’t a big ask.
“How’d you do, baby?”
I beamed with tears in my eyes. He raised his eyebrows, waiting to see what that meant.
“I killed it.”
Dylan grinned just as wide as I was, slid his hand along my cheek, and leaned in to kiss me. “Congratulations, J. Do you think you got a part?”
“Probably,” I said, drawing a shuddering breath. “But I don’t think I’m going to take it.”
His eyes rounded. “What? You’re not?”
I searched the deep brown for some kind of opinion. “I think I might be more interested in a different offer,” I placed my hand on my lower belly, “if that’s cool with you.”
His mouth flapped as he studied my face. “Jeannie, are you sure? You crushed that audition. You can take what they offer you and still have the baby. You wouldn’t have the baby before the show.”
I bit my lip. “That’s true. I guess I’ll see what they offer and the timeline and all that. But, um, yeah. Do you want to . . . have a baby with me?”
Dylan’s hand came up to stroke my cheek as his eyes went glassy. “Jeanine,” he whispered. “Really?”
“I want this. I want you. And them.” I rubbed my hand over my stomach, still mostly flat with a little bloat.
Dylan’s hand splayed across my stomach and he pressed his forehead to mine. I kissed the single tear flowing down his cheek. “So, it’s yes?”
“Yes. Hell yes. Yes, I want you to have my baby. And for me to be the dad. And for us to, you know,” he was beaming so hard his voice sounded weird, “do the whole thing together.”
“Okay. Good. Let’s . . . do the whole thing,” I laughed, and he laughed along with me.
“I love you so much, Jeannie,” he whimpered.
“I love you too.”
“And I’m going to love this little one so much.” He let out a mix of a laugh and a sob. “I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to be parents.”
I nodded, my heart pounding as I was about to deliver the next part. “And if you’ll have me, I’ll be your wife.”
