If Ever(54)

"See, I told you that at the beginning and you didn't believe me." Dominic smirks and I shake my head.

He laughs. “Is it hard not being in the finals?” Tom asks Dominic. “You usually are.”

I sip my wine, curious to hear his response.

"Honestly, this season has been a roller coaster." Dominic tilts his head my way. I shrug innocently and Tom smiles at me. "It would have been nice to be in the finals, Chelsea earned it against all odds. But it's nice not to be one of the teams rehearsing twelve hours a day to get ready. The poor schmucks. While they're clawing their eyes out with frustration, we're living large." He holds up his glass, and we all clink.

"When do you fly back for the finale?" Tom asks.

"Saturday morning," I say, wishing we had longer. Tom nods, digesting how much time we have together. I'm ready for this long distance thing to be done.

Our food arrives and Tom was right. The salmon practically melts in my mouth. We're well into our second bottle of wine when Dominic's phone dings. He checks it and goes still.

He stares at me with a tense expression.

"What?" I ask.

"It's Larry. His text says, ‘911. Call me!’"

My mind immediately thinks tragedy. "What do you think it is?"

"No idea. Excuse me while I call him back." Dominic leaves the table.

"I hope it isn't something bad," I say to Tom. "God forbid something happened to Hank."

He takes my hand. "No use worrying until you know."

I nod, but I've come to care about those people, even the ones who ignored me.

Dominic returns a minute later. He drops into his seat, tosses his phone on the table, and shakes his head with a smile of disbelief.

I give him about two seconds before demanding, "Well?"

A slow smile curls onto his lips. "We're in the finals."

My mouth drops open. "What!"

"Are you serious?" Tom laughs.

Dominic nods. "Brady tore his ACL, there's no way he can dance. We're the runners up, which means we've been bumped into the finals."

Dumbstruck, I turn to Tom. With amusement in his eyes, he raises the wine bottle and empties the contents into our glasses. "I think you two are going to need this."

Dominic takes a long drink. I can see his mind already going a million miles a second.

"But we don't have a dance or costumes. We can't get ready in time," I say.

He rubs his chin before speaking. "I do have the music and a couple of ideas I'd been working on."

My heart thumps away. It may be stupid, but my first thought is that all I want is to be with Tom. I glance at him, and it’s as if he’s read my mind. He smiles and shrugs.

"Larry will call back when our flights are booked. We leave first thing in the morning." Dominic hails the waiter for our check.

I nod, and fight the urge to throw a temper tantrum. Instead I sip my wine. Tom watches me but remains silent.

When the waiter arrives, the guys argue over the check, but Dominic wins when he promises it's on the network's dime. "I'm heading back to the hotel. I've got to start figuring out our dance. I'll call you when I know more." He takes off, distracted by all the details he now has to handle.

Tom and I linger over our drinks and when it's time to go, he holds my coat. My feelings are a jumble. Being in the finale is great, but I don't really deserve it, and I haven't begun to have enough time with him. Outside, the sky is filled with huge snowflakes.

"Huh, what do you know about that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Is it horrible if I pray for a blizzard to keep me here?"

“It would make two of us. Do you mind if we walk back to your hotel instead of cabbing it?"

"Not at all," I say, and I'm glad I did when Tom tucks his arm around me. Times Square is still brightly lit, but the crowds are gone with only a handful of tourists unwilling to call it a night, and stray people heading home after work. Normally in a city like New York I'd be nervous around every dark corner or shady character, but with Tom at my side, I've never felt safer.

By the time we reach my hotel, the snow has filled the crevices in the sidewalk. Inside there's a swanky bar with chrome-edged tables and black leather seating. Tom removes his hat and brushes snow off my shoulders. “I know it’s late, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

We sit in low chairs. Jazz music plays softly and the seductive lighting gives the feel that we're alone. The waitress brings him a gin and tonic and me a cosmo.

"I wish I didn't have to fly back to L.A. in the morning."

He squeezes my hand. "You'll be back."

“I can’t believe we’re in the finals.”

"You’ll be brilliant, and you're peaking at the perfect time. And you have the secret weapon of Dominic. As much as I hate to say it, you couldn't be in better hands. At least for the show," he says with a sardonic smile.

"You're too nice. I'm not like you and Dominic. I haven't spent my life performing, but I promise to give it my best shot."

He swirls his drink, the ice clinks against the side. "And that's what I love about you. You never give up."

"Like Dominic would let me." But Tom's right. I've got one last chance to prove I'm worthy of being on the show and I won't waste it. Dominic calls with details of our 8:00 a.m. flight with car service pick up a few hours from now at 5:30. It'll be a long day tomorrow. At least I'll be able to sleep on the plane.