If Ever(66)

I peek into the bar and spot him standing with his foot on the rail and his hand hooked in his pocket. My heart leaps at the sight of his handsome profile. When he looks over, a pleased smile curls his lips. He walks toward me with a casual confidence as if he doesn't realize the earth has stopped spinning.

"Hello, love." I catch a whiff of his cologne as he kisses my cheek, and I'm home again. “Congratulations on second place, but you deserved first.”

"Thanks, but being with you is better than any ole trophy.”

Winning would have been amazing, and there was a brief twinge of disappointment, but I’m so thankful for the experience and that I met Tom. “I hope I'm not late." I took extra care in getting ready wearing a new sweater, tall boots and my best skinny jeans that show off my hard earned curves.

"Not at all. I was a little eager to see you so I skipped the stage door," he admits with a guilty smile. "Let's get a table."

The hostess guides us to a booth. I slide in and still can’t believe I’m with Tom again. The waitress takes my drink order and I settle in. “It’s a relief to have the show over. It can’t dictate my life ever again.”

"Now there's only my show to deal with," he says, and I notice his eyes are now deep blue. It must be the lighting.

I saw him only five days ago, but it feels much longer. We can't stop looking at each other.

He smiles. "You aren’t going to miss it?"

"Some parts, like working with Dominic and the actual dancing, but mostly I felt out of place surrounded by super talented dancers and celebrities. I didn't fit in their world. As a kid, I never dreamed to be famous."

"What did you dream of?" He tilts his head and considers me.

My mouth opens to speak, and then I close it again unsure how to continue. When was the last time a guy asked me what I hoped for in life? Never. Do I give him the bogus easy to give answer, or the truth?

He's looking at me so sincerely and when I don’t respond right away his brow furrows. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a loaded question."

I sigh. He knows the basics of my past. Just not the details or how deep I try to bury my feelings about all of it. "It's not, but I could use a drink first."

As if on cue, the waitress sets a rum and coke in front of me. Tom laughs, showing off his dimples, and I shake my head. She looks back and forth between us. "Would you like a little more time?"

"That'd be great. Thanks," Tom says, then pins me with a grin as my drink sits before me like a dare.

I take a long bracing drink.

"If it's that hard to talk about, forget I asked."

"You're fine. I just don't like talking about myself." It results in opening doors to my past that I prefer to keep closed.

"You're the first girl I've met who's ever said that." He laughs.

I smile and take another sip. "It's really no big deal. I never dreamed of the big stuff like most people. All I wanted were normal things."

Tom stays quiet, which makes my hands shake, so I clutch my glass. I hate that I'm nervous. It's ridiculous.

"You pretty much know this already from the song on the show. But I always longed for a normal family. Don't get me wrong. My mom was amazing. She made up for not having a dad, but..."

He smiles softly. "You still wanted one."

"I did. I don't know why it bothered me so much. I had lots of friends with divorced parents. I guess it's because my dad cut me out of his life."

Tom takes my hand. "I'm sorry to bring you down."

"You didn't. So what's good here? I'm starved." I pull my hand away and open my menu—taking a moment to shake off the dad discussion. I avoid Tom's apologetic eyes as I glaze over the list of entrees. He drops the subject and offers a couple of suggestions.

The waitress takes our order, leaves, and we’re back to this awkward silence. Shit. I finally get to see Tom again and I'm messing this up. I hide behind my drink and ask how his matinee went.

"Funny you should ask." There's a glint in his eye.

"Really? What happened?"

He swallows and pulls at the neck of his sweater. "I went on stage in the second act with my fly open."

My jaw drops open. "You didn't?"

He nods with a grimace. "Oh yes. Sang an entire ballad that way with nearly a thousand people watching. I was wondering why there was whispering and laughter from the audience." A flush crosses his face.

I cover my mouth and giggle. "What did you do?"

"Well, nothing until Paige stood in front of me and gestured to the front of my pants. She couldn't say anything because her mic was live. I zipped up, and the audience applauded, so I took a quick bow and continued."

He shakes his head. I feel for him, but still grin. Our earlier awkward moment is forgotten, and dinner flies by as he has me laughing over stories of his stage antics and the many things that have gone awry.

"I don't know how you do it, day after day, when so much can go wrong."

"That's live theatre for you." He smiles and his eyes connect with mine.

There's an invisible line of energy connecting us, and I've never been so attracted to another person in my life. But there's the small issue that I don't actually live in New York. There's an apartment I'm paying rent on back in Iowa City. All this is too much to figure out right now, so I'll follow Hank's sage advice and take one day at a time, trying not to think beyond that.