If Ever(52)

Two and a half hours later, the show culminates with Tom belting out raw passionate vocals laced with angst, grief, and even hope. His powerful tenor voice fills the theatre giving me goose bumps, and when the song ends, I swipe away tears I didn't realize I'd shed. The theatre erupts into applause.

The stage goes dark and I can't believe the journey I've just been on. When the lights come up, Tom is gone. The cast comes out for bows in small groups. First the ensemble, then the smaller roles, to the principal players, and finally Tom runs out for his bow. I'm immediately on my feet along with the rest of the audience. He smiles and bows, back to the charming guy who occupies all my thoughts. The rest of the cast join him, gesture to the orchestra, and take a final group bow.

He gazes up to the balcony, and even though I'm sure he can't see me beyond the bright stage lights, he smiles and waves. I wave back, as the curtain closes, not caring if I look silly.

"Oh, my God." I turn to Dominic.

He’s just as razzed by the show as I am. “That was incredible.”

“I want to see it again.”

It takes a few minutes to file outside. The stage door is surrounded by a mob of people. Dominic leads the way past stanchions set up to keep the crowd back. I feel rude barreling past people, but I guess this is how it’s done. I hear comments, “Is that Dominic Yardley and Chelsea Barnes?”

Dominic knocks at the stage door and a security guy opens it a crack. The people in the crowd are craning their necks to see who we are. More people call out to us. I smile politely as Dominic gives our names. The security guard is a middle-aged guy wearing a flannel shirt and beat up boots. He swings the door open.

We step into an entryway of concrete steps, scuffed gray walls, and exposed pipes. It’s pretty bland after all the glamour of the show.

"Tom's dressing room is on the second floor at the top of the steps." The security guy points to the narrow staircase. This place is a lot like the studio in L.A. with a barren, industrial feel, except this theatre has got to be a hundred years old.

Dominic gestures for me to go first, so I climb the stairs, my pulse racing faster with each step. Tom was amazing, and the show was epic, leaving me moved beyond words.

A couple people wearing street clothes and stage makeup pass us going down. I know they were in the show but don't recognize them out of costume.

We reach the second floor landing and a grey door marked Thomas Evan Oliver, Crossing Lines. I hesitate and turn to Dominic.

I chew at the edge of my lip. Tom is now more than the guy who sang for me on Celebrity Dance Off. He's more than the cute guy I flirt with long distance, or steal kisses with now that I'm here in the same city. He's a huge Broadway star who just carried this show. Intimidated doesn't begin to describe my feelings.

Dominic raps on the door.

Tom opens it with a grin and tousled hair. "You made it!"

“Great show, man. Incredible.” Dominic shakes his hand.

I say, “Wow.” Because no words can express my feelings.

His eyes soften. "Thanks. Come on in." He holds the door wide.

He's lean and lanky wearing a fitted navy T-shirt. His costume is draped over a chair and he's wearing dark jeans but no shoes or socks. "Sorry, I'm running late. I got caught up by the stage manager."

"The show was amazing. You were...I don't even know what to say, other than phenomenal," I gush.

His smile is tender. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I don't know how you do it. I'm wrung out from the experience. You must be exhausted."

"Usually I am, but tonight I'm jazzed to have you guys here." He pulls a black button-down shirt out of his closet and slips into it.

I take in all the chaos and coziness of his dressing room. There's a love seat and two comfortable chairs around a coffee table, art on the walls and a colorful rug on the floor.

"Pretty nice space you've got," Dominic says.

"It's the nicest dressing room I've ever had. My sister decorated it. I spend enough time here, so I wanted it to be comfortable." He buttons his shirt.

I notice a Drama League Award on a shelf and another for opening the show.

He sits down to put on his shoes and socks. "Are you guys still up for a late dinner?"

"Absolutely." I squint at pictures of Tom with true A-list celebrities tucked into the side of his mirror. There's the lead guy from Star Wars, a couple of people from Game of Thrones, and is that T-Swift?

"Would you like a tour of the theater?" He asks, maybe to distract me from the wall of fame.

"Are we allowed?" I decide to play it cool and not comment about his famous meet and greets.

"Of course." He grabs his coat and backpack and leads us down to the backstage area. It's incredibly organized and crowded with set pieces pushed back against the walls, small prop items set on shelves, and white tape marking the floor. "I had no idea how crowded it was back here."

"If you look up you'll see more."

Sure enough, above us the air is filled with hanging set pieces and backdrops.

"It can be a real obstacle course just trying to get off and on stage. One wrong move and someone gets hurt, but the setting and acoustics are phenomenal."

We go another level lower and he points out the wig room, laundry room, several group dressing rooms, and the trap room where he disappeared to after a fight scene. We pepper him with questions, which he patiently answers.