It takes me four tries to finally get Wanda Two into the the spot. I’m not bad at parallel parking, I’m just nervous as hell. I check my phone for the hundredth time as I get out of the car and lock my doors.

Still nothing.

I frown and step onto the curb. We’ve been texting like crazy during Tate’s trip to New York, but he’s suddenly gone quiet. I haven’t been able to reach him all day and my calls keep going straight to voicemail. I don’t know what it means, but what I do know is that it’s making me anxious.

I glance up and down the block, getting my bearings. The theater where I’m having my audition is a block up on the right. I start walking. The sooner I get out of the late summer heat, the better. It would be pretty sloppy to show up looking like a hot mess to the audition of my life. Besides, I’m already sweating enough from nerves alone.

Tate stays on my brain the closer I get to the theater doors. I wish he were here. I wish Tate were here to tell me to calm the hell down and that everything would be okay and that being this nervous is a good sign. He’d say something like “It means you care,” or “You just really want this.” Both would be right, but I’d rather hear it from him.

I click on my phone and glare at the empty welcome screen. Make that a hundred and one…

“Hi!”

I look up from my phone to see a spritely girl about my age waving me through the double doors.

“Are you Charlotte Laine?”

I nod. “I’m here to see casting director Ginevra Wright?”

“Then you’re in the right place,” she says, motioning for me to follow her. We pass through the lobby and enter the auditorium. It’s similar to the one I auditioned in for Tate’s girlfriend, but cozier.

“Ms. Wright is just down there.” She points to the casting table at the base of the stage. “Go on ahead, and I’ll meet you after to take you to where you’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks,” I say, my eyes still glued on the table. I pick out Ginevra, but I don’t recognize the other two people. I start down the aisle, trying to keep my head and wits about me.

Just let them do the talking. Smile and nod—that’s all you’ll have to do…

I’m a few steps from the small group when I’m spotted. “Hi, Charlotte,” Ginevra says, breaking away from the conversation to walk over to me. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for having me back.” I take her hand and give it a firm shake.

“Let me introduce you to a few of my colleagues.” Ginevra steps back and motions to the first gentleman. “This is Stu Kallas, the director of the show…”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, his smile softening his sharp features. I take his proffered hand and give it the same firm handshake.

“…and this is Lauren O’Leary, executive producer.”

I offer my hand to the short, dark-haired lady. “Pleasure to meet you,” I say.

“Okay, now that introductions are out of the way, let me tell you how today will go.” Ginevra steps back and grabs her clipboard. “Lauren and Stu are sitting in because this is the last round of auditions. As you know, you’re one of two finalists. We’re going alphabetically, so you’ll be second today, Charlotte.”

I nod, not thrilled to be stuck in this prolonged agony of nerves.

“When you’re called, come on stage in character and jump right into the scene. Any questions for us?”

I shake my head and smile.

Good—stick to your plan of nodding and smiling.

“Wonderful.” Ginevra waves her clipboard over her head, beckoning to someone behind me. “Jade will take you to the waiting room. We’ll be starting shortly.”

“Thank you,” I manage to squeak out as I’m led to the right of the stage. I follow Jade through the doors into a maze of hallways.

A few turns in, Jade stops and motions to an empty room. “Right in here, Ms. Laine. Your water is on the table. I’ll come get you after the first audition is complete.”

Jade shuts the door on her way out, leaving me in the silence of my very ordinary waiting room. I occupy my time by giving myself a little tour of the space. I needed to do something other than sitting idly and thinking of all the ways I’m going to bomb this chance.

Unfortunately, it takes me approximately one minute to “tour” the nondescript couch and Formica chairs and tabletop. I don’t know why I thought it would be unlike all the other waiting rooms I’ve been in.

I take a seat on the synthetic cushions and pull out my phone. I consider dialing Tate again, just to see if his phone’s back on, but settle for a text.

I put my phone down and vow not to touch it again. It’s only going to drive me crazy that Tate hasn’t talked to me all day—

I jump as my phone chirps in my purse. I whip it out and read the screen hungrily.

Speak of the devil…

I dial his number as fast as my fingers can move. “Hey, babe,” he answers, laughing. “Guess you got my text.”

“Tate! Where have you been? I’ve tried to reach you all day.”

“Yeah…sorry. I couldn’t talk earlier. I’ve been in meetings all day. We’re wrapping up now, though.”

The sound of his deep, gravelly voice calms my nerves. “We’re talking now. That’s all that matters.”

“Don’t be nervous, Char.”

I frown. “Who says I’m nervous?”

“Your voice, for one.”

I get up and start to pace. “Okay. So I’m a little nervous.”

“I can just picture you now…pacing in your dressing room, wearing that cute little scowl on your face, as you go over everything that could possibly go wrong.”

I glance in the mirror and wipe the “cute little scowl” off my face. “It’s a waiting room…but yeah, you’ve nailed everything else.” I sigh. “So much is riding on this, Tate. I can’t screw it up.”

“And you won’t.”

“Come on. I haven’t had the strongest track record when it comes to auditions.”

“No one does, or else everyone would get the first gig they go up for.”

“But I’ve forgotten lines, cried, froze up, messed up scenes—”

“Great!”

I frown. “Great?”

“Yup. You’ve gotten it all out of your system. This audition will be your best yet.”

“I guess…”

“Put all your mistakes behind you and focus on this audition. You can do it.”

I bite my lip. He’s right. Nothing else matters other than right now—this audition. I need to get out of my head and into this moment.

I hear a low, muffled sound on Tate’s end. It sounds like cars. “Where are you?”

“Oh, I just stepped out for some dinner. Sorry, is it loud?”

The sound drifts away. “Not anymore,” I answer.

“Cool. I just, uh, stepped into a store.”

“Oh my God! I haven’t even asked you about your trip! How’s New York?”

“It’s…fine. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

“When are you coming home? I miss you,” I say, fiddling with the hem of my dress.

“I miss you, too, babe. I’ll be home sooner than you think…”

Sooner than I think? What’s that mean?

“…and then we’ll celebrate you getting this role.”

I shake my head. “Okay, Mr. Optomis—”

I stop as the door opens. An assistant pops her head in and smiles over at me. “Charlotte? They’re ready for you.”

I nod and hold the phone back up to my ear, ignoring the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through my limbs. “Hey, Tate? It’s time.”

“You’ve got this, Char.”

“I hope so.” I stand up and glance over myself in the mirror. I smooth a crease in my dress and brush a strand of hair from my cheek.

“I believe in you even if you don’t.” A door slams in the background and the muffled noise returns. “I’ve got to go, babe. Just remember that I’m here with you the whole time you’re on that stage.”

I smile. I desperately want to say the three little words that have been weighing on my chest for weeks now. I want to say “Tate, I love you” and hear them in return. But what if he doesn’t say them back? What if he goes quiet or says I’m crazy or hangs up?

I can’t deal with that possibility right now. This isn’t the time.

“Thanks, Tate,” I say, staying on safe ground.

“Go knock ’em dead.”

I put the phone down, take a deep breath, and head for the door. The assistant is waiting on the other side. We follow the maze of corridors until we come to a metal door.

“This leads backstage,” Jade explains. “When you’re ready, walk on stage and start your scene. I’ll go tell them you’re back here. Good luck!”

I watch her disappear around the corner before turning back to the door. It looks like any other door I’ve encountered, tattered and whitewash beige, but this door is anything but ordinary. It separates my past failures from my new beginning. On the other side of this door lies my future.

Well, there’s no time like the present. I square my shoulders, toss my chin up, and push through it. I take deep breaths as I mount the stairs leading to the stage. Up ahead I see the glare of the lights, the edge of the deep red curtain, and the scuffed floorboard of center stage. It’s all only a few steps out of reach.

Three steps left…

I swallow. I’ve had my fill of dry mouth at past auditions and it does nothing for first impressions.

Two more to go…

I repeat my opening line. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be halfway to New York by now!”

One…

I relax my body, let my face go slack, and slow my steps. I’m supposed to be taken by surprise to find my lover standing in the crowded lobby of our hotel, instead of on a place bound for the East Coast.

Zero.

I walk out on stage among the dazzling lights and cavernous theater and step into my role. The casting table down below, and the three people who sit behind it—scrutinizing my every move, every word, every expression—fade away. I’m only aware of my role.

I’m no longer Charlotte Laine from Santa Barbara. I’m no longer a fiancée or a girlfriend or a best friend. I’m Michelle Hart, a small town girl who’s just said goodbye to the love of her life.

I shuffle across the stage, dragging my feet a bit from the weight of my heavy heart. My head hangs low, shoulders slump forward. I’m the embodiment of dejection, of love lost.

I sweep my eyes up and around the empty theater, picturing the crowded lobby of the Plaza Hotel. I see everything through lovesick eyes. The couple cuddling against a pillar, the two lovers holding hands as they dart toward the elevators, the old married couple sitting quietly by the grand piano. Life is pointless, colorless, without him. It’s lost its passion, its zest.

But then, I see…

I blink a few times, sure that my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. I raise a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes against the glare of the lights, and gaze deeper into the crowd. Soon my imagination fades away, leaving an empty theater…

Empty except for one seat.

A slow smile gathers on my lips, curling up the corners and drawing them back. It spreads everywhere—to my eyes, cheeks, limbs. I’m giddy with excitement and disbelief.

But most of all, I’m giddy with love. The man who’s supposed to be halfway across the country is right here in front of me, meeting my shocked gaze with his bright green eyes.

Tate smirks at me and shrugs. Gotcha.

I shake my head softly and deliver my line. My words may be scripted, but they’re exactly what I’d tell him anyway.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be halfway to New York!”