If Ever(65)

I sift through the old mismatched panties and bras I stuffed in my suitcase and cringe. He can’t see me in any of this. “Shit.”

“You better make an emergency run to Vicky’s.”

“I don’t have time. As soon as I’m done here I have hair, makeup and dress rehearsal.” I pace my bedroom. This place has grown on me over the past three months.

“I’m just sayin’. You can’t show up in your discount store bra and undies. It’s way too Midwest.”

“Note taken. I’ll figure something out.” I try to picture the perfect panties to buy and realize the whole point is for him to take them off. “Oh, God. Now I’m going to worry about awkward first sex!”

“Relax. He’ll do all the seducing.”

“It doesn’t matter. First times are always weird.” I plop onto the side of the bed. “Anna, I really like him. He’s not like any of the guys at school.”

“I know.” Her voice is soft and reassuring. She knows more about me than anyone on the planet and wants this to work nearly as much as I do.

“And I always mess things up with guys.” Reading men’s signals has never been a skill of mine. My mind goes to Kirk who I dated for a month in high school and Reggie who cheated on me last spring. I cringe.

“That’s ancient history. You’re going to have a blast, and you better give me a full report afterward. I want to know if he’s as good in bed as he is at singing.”





That afternoon after my traditional shot of bourbon with Hank, Dominic and I step onto the soundstage along with finalists Shane and Cassie, and Eva and Tarik. The crew, production staff and all the pro and celebrity dancers from the first week are there applauding our entrance. I glance at Dominic. Is he as blown away by this experience as I am? Maybe not, as he's taken this walk several times before.

I nod and smile at these people, most of whom never connected with me; but today they all seem supportive. Hank is catcalling and even Candace Capri appears happy, probably because she's singing her latest hit tonight.

Places are called for the opener. Every pair gets their few seconds to shine as the production team pulls out all the stops with special effects, new camera angles, and poppy music.

The show flies along with great fanfare until it's time for our final dance, a mash-up of quick step and rumba. As we wait, Dominic says, "This is our last show together."

"Don't make me cry," I answer softly so the mic won't catch it. "Turns out what you said to me on the first night was true."

"What was that?"

"You said I'd fall in love with you."

He laughs and shakes his head.

"You're like the brother I never had, and I can't imagine taking this journey without you."

Dominic whispers back. "But I was wrong. I also said it would be one sided. And I love you to pieces." He squeezes my shoulder.

The intro plays and we switch to dance mode. Muscle memory takes over and Dominic guides me through the intricate steps I've been doing in my sleep. My dress swishes around me as we turn, glide, and kick. We smile, enjoying this last insane moment of dancing under the spotlights, an experience I never sought out, but am thankful I've had. With a final spin into a low dip, we're done.

Dominic lifts me to my feet and we hug. The judges' comments are all glowing as if they suspected I'd be here from the beginning.

Our scores are all tens, but so were the other teams. It'll come down to a popularity contest, but I don't mind. I'm almost done and the feeling is sweet. During the commercial break we're herded up to the stage along with the other two pairs.

"You guys were awesome and both deserve to win," Eva says. There are hugs all around. I have actually made friends.

Dominic and I are on the left side standing beneath the spotlights. Marcus MacIntyre gives his spiel about sadly having to announce who came in third. Dominic's arm is comfortably at my side in support. This is where we exit. If it hadn't been for Brady's injury we'd never be here at all.

"And the pair in third place is..."

The suspense music plays for an eternity.

I try to keep a straight face, as Dominic whispers, "Are you going to fake cry when we're voted out?"

I elbow him.

The host finally speaks. "Shane and Cassie."

What! I turn to Dominic and burst out laughing. We've made it into the final two.

We're hurried down to the main floor and stand with Eva and Tarik with the trophy and the hosts between us. Could we actually win? Suddenly I want it. I want it bad, and the way Dominic's arm is clenched around me I know he does too.

"And now, after twelve weeks, hundreds of dances and millions of sequins will the winner of Celebrity Dance Off be Chelsea Barnes, America's first chance to dance?" The cameras zoom in on Dominic and I.

"Or will it be Eva Alverez, the Emmy winning soap icon?"

The results music pulses, but not louder than my pounding heart. What if I actually won? It's impossible. Or is it?

"And the winner of Celebrity Dance Off is..."





22





New York City





I'm a jumble of excitement when I enter the restaurant to meet Tom. Subdued lighting and delectable scents greet me as I slip off my coat and run my fingers through my hair. It's been a long day appearing with Dominic and the other finalists on all the morning talk shows when all I could concentrate on was seeing Tom. By the time I was finally free, he had to head to the theatre for the matinee, so I enjoyed a desperately needed nap at my swanky hotel.