I watch from the wings as Barry Winston talks to the live audience during the commercial break. He’s been the host for all four seasons, and he loves his job.
He wears his signature brown suit, his dark hair smooth and sleek.
Barry holds out his arms before the crowd. “We’re just moments away from seeing Blitz and Livia together again on this stage! Are you ready?”
The crowd screams their excitement, and my belly calms. I forget that there are good moments in this business. This is one of them.
Blitz comes up behind me in his tux for the dance number.
“You ready for this?” he asks.
“We playing the proposal straight or winging it?” I ask.
“I say we do whatever the spirit moves us to do,” he says.
I laugh. “Then I’m going to say, ‘As long as a cheesy rainbow doesn’t appear, I’ll say yes.’ That’ll freak out the lighting staff.”
Blitz grins. “Now that’s my girl.”
The countdown starts and Amara motions us to head out on stage. It’s very dark, but we’re still spotted by the live audience. They start screaming and chanting Blitz’s name.
Barry speaks again, calming the noise. “Let’s get ready to go live,” he says. A hush falls over the audience.
The countdown clock begins, bright numbers on a screen beneath the sound booth. Ten, nine, eight.
I shift my gaze back to Blitz. We’re in position for our dance number. Barry will introduce us, then the stage is ours.
The Dance Blitz theme song plays, then the spotlight comes up on Barry.
“Here it is, the moment you’ve been waiting for. The return of our original Dance Blitz bachelor, Blitz Craven, with the girl it took three seasons to find — Livia Mays.”
The crowd cheers, and the lights reveal us. I smile up at Blitz. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. That I’m here.
The music begins, and we start our waltz. The first steps are easy and slow. I’m sure the entertainment shows will call it “classic Blitz and Livia” tomorrow.
But then it speeds up and the crowd responds, cheering as we go into our first lift, then a twist, then another lift. The first two cloud puffs don’t go off, but I don’t have time to think about it. We just keep dancing. We cross the stage, and when Blitz pushes me up and then brings me into a cradle, the third cloud machine does work. The audience goes nuts.
We spin and hit our marks, taking brief moments to catch each other’s eyes when we can. My skirt whirls out, then settles, then catches air in another lift. Another cloud. Another cheer.
The song winds down, and we’re breathing hard. It was a taxing dance. We hold our final position, and Blitz looks into my eyes.
And the magic is there. We don’t have to fake it. He’s missed this too, and he’s loving that we’re here together, on stage, in the world that brought us together.
Time feels suspended. His finger grazes my cheek, and he says, “Livia, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Cheers from the audience erupt but are quickly shushed. Blitz waits them out. He’s a pro. Then he says, “Do you think the whole world is waiting for me to ask you an important question?”
I laugh. “That sounds like Blitz Craven talking.”
This is completely unscripted. I sense some tension in the wings. The rainbow scrim operator is probably panicking, wondering what to do.
“I think the world is with us,” he says.
And that’s when it drops. Behind us, the scrim lights up, a rainbow sliding across its surface.
“See?” Blitz says.
The crowd tries to erupt again, then hushes as Blitz lifts me out of the bend and gets down on one knee.
I watch the amusement playing across his face. What is he going to do?
“Livia Mays, I have a question for you,” he says.
“You do, huh?” I say, trying to stop from giggling. The producers will be so mad if we muck this up.
“Would you be interested in a nontraditional domesticated arrangement?” he asks.
The unicorn dancer gallops across the stage, a ring nestled on her cloud pillow. Then she realizes what Blitz just said. She stops, looking around. She isn’t sure if she’s supposed to come out for that or not.
“You’re totally messing this up,” I say, sitting on his knee. “How about I give it a shot?”
Blitz lifts me up and stands. We face each other. “Okay. I’m game.”
“Blitz Craven, dance god, teacher of wheelchair ballerinas, terrible driver, and secret French fry addict, I take you as you are. Will you do the same?”
Blitz turns me in slow circle. I lift my leg for a pretty arabesque, the skirt fluttering. It’s the first move I ever taught him, the very first day we met. And no one knows that but us. Not the fans or the staff or anyone watching on television.
It makes this moment a little more ours.
Blitz continues the turn until I face him again, then says, “Livia, ballerina extraordinaire, talent beyond measure, brave stage-stomping girl, and stealer of blankets, I will take you as you are.”
His hands go to my waist and lift me into the air. His palm shifts, and we’re back into our language, the communication of touch and angles and movement. I wait a hairbreadth of a second, then roll down his arm, and his body, and he catches me in front of his hips, taking me into a dive, my face near the floor, feet in the air. It’s a startling, fast move, like I’m falling.
The crowd gasps, then cheers.
Blitz sets me down and draws me close. “Will you marry me, Livia?”
“Only if you promise we will always dance.”
His lips brush against mine. “I will.”
The unicorn approaches, but we ignore her and her fake ring, spinning in alternating pirouettes across the stage. Confetti drops on both the stage and the crowd. The noise is tremendous.
We dance right into the wings, and the spotlight goes back on Barry. He will bridge the time gap between the proposal and the next commercial break, or lead into a video. Doesn’t matter. Our time is done. The show is over for us.
Dancers and staff congratulate us as we make our way across the dark side stage to the exit door. Then we’re in the hall, and the swan girls are hugging us. Wardrobe and makeup come out to squeeze us too.
We accept it all graciously. This is their chance to congratulate us since we got engaged far away and quietly.
The monitors blink for the end of the commercial and people start to scurry. There’s one more number with the former contestants, and then Mack will announce his winner.
We head to the viewing room to watch with the producers. Everyone inside stands up to slap Blitz’s back and shake my hand. They seem pleased with what we’ve done.
“That will be everywhere tomorrow,” says Taya, one of the producers. “It was spot on for a big splash on the news shows.” She is practically giddy, doing a little hip-shaking jig in her charcoal pantsuit.
“Glad to be of service,” Blitz mumbles.
The door bursts open, and Duke comes in. “Hey, bud, getting hitched, I see!” he says. He’s got his cowboy hat on, like we’re still in San Antonio. He grew up there with Blitz and served as his bodyguard in LA. Now he works for Mack.
“I got this here back for you safe and sound,” he says, passing something to Blitz.
It’s my regular engagement ring.
“Thanks,” Blitz takes my hand to slide it on. “The other one never even touched your skin,” he says to me.
“Thank you for that,” I say. I didn’t really want to have to wear anything other than what Blitz picked out.
If the producers in the room are annoyed that we refused their audacious ring, they don’t say anything.
Amara pops her head in. “Blitz, Livia, Devon has decided you guys should be on stage after the announcement of the winner.”
“I thought we agreed we didn’t want to upstage the new couple,” Blitz says.
Amara’s red mouth pinches into a sharp line. “We didn’t really expect who the voters were going to pick. We think it’s good if you’re there to show support.”
Blitz and I glance at each other, but we follow her. The other producers have stood up, anxious again.
I lean in to Blitz as we return to the dark wings of the stage. “I thought all the finalists were good,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I haven’t heard any rumblings.”
The big dance number ends. Barry leads to a commercial and the dancers scurry past. On stage, the crew sets up for the winner announcement. The three finalists arrive beside us, waiting for their cue to walk out. My mind flashes back to my own moment exactly like this one.
Dolly glances over and mouths, “Congratulations.”
I nod back at her.
The backstage assistant moves the three finalists closer to the edge of the stage. Blitz and I hang back to make sure the lights don’t fall on us and cause a distraction.
I spot Mack in the opposite wings, his arms waving wildly as he argues with Devon.
“Why does he know in advance?” I ask Blitz. “Isn’t he supposed to find out when the rest of us do?”
Blitz shakes his head. “No. I knew.”
“What?”
“They told me right before we went out. Remember how I just announced it?”
I recall that now. That I thought he might change it to whatever he wanted, even though there are T-shirts that will drop onto the live audience with the image of the winning couple.
“That’s why they keep us separated. Mack is over there and the girls over here.”
“It’s a stressful moment,” I say.
He turns to me then and slides his arm across my shoulders. “I always knew they would pick you,” he says. “It wasn’t in question.”
“I don’t think they should have told him,” I say. “He’s clearly upset.”
“Probably they wanted him to have time to calm down. He wanted Felicity,” Blitz says. “There was not going to be a good choice tonight.”
“It sucks,” I say. “Now he’ll have to do publicity tours for months.”
“Yep,” Blitz says. “Part of the biz.”
The countdown begins, and a stony-faced Mack heads out on stage.
“He can’t pull himself together,” Blitz says. “I’m going out.” He lets go of me and heads across the stage.
I spot Devon with his headset in the opposite wing. His arms fly to his head, like he can’t believe Blitz just strolled out.
The show has gone off the rails again.