Play On (Play On 1)

The utter disbelief I felt must’ve shown on my face because she laughed and leaned over to pat my hand. “I knew it would feel good telling you that, but I never could’ve imagined it would feel this good.”

“Nora? Nora,” Jack whispered in my ear. “I said I’m sorry.”

I dismissed the memories and threw him a look over my shoulder. “It’s cool.”

“Understudy Viola and Duke Orsino,” Quentin said, turning to us, halting the rehearsal once again. I slumped in my seat with a groan. “Please desist with your nonsensical jibber-jabber.”

“Apologies,” Jack called out. “I’ll stop the jibber and Miss O’Brien here promises to quit the jabber.”

“You’re all going to be the death of me.” Quentin ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “My father was right. I should have invested my money in Facebook shares. But no, I had to open a theater.”

I coughed to cover my laughter and closed my laptop. There was no way I was getting this paper written at rehearsal. It was silly of me to have thought so.

“Hey.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back at him. “What?”

Jack’s countenance was surprisingly serious. “I really am sorry about yer dad.”

Nodding my thanks, I turned back around and focused on the stage, trying to concentrate on the play. But my thoughts kept drifting back to Donovan. I’d stayed with my mom for a few months, reconnecting with her, and I actually got to know her. She only worked a few hours a day at May’s Coffeehouse because she had Trixie to look after. It galled me somewhat that a dog was getting more consideration than her kid ever did, but I didn’t want to hold any grudges. Not against her or my dad. I was too tired of it all. Plus, it was obvious my mother had changed.

We had a good few months together where I learned more about my dad in the years after I’d left. Being there allowed me to grieve more than anywhere else could have. I could do it freely because only mom understood how complicated my feelings were toward my father. He was the hero who let me down, but I’d forgiven him a long time ago for that. If I was honest, I didn’t like the man he became, but I loved the man he had been with all my heart and soul. In a way, I’d already grieved losing my father a long time ago. What I needed my mom’s help with was getting over the fear that he’d never forgiven me for leaving him.

Moreover, I told my mom the truth about my life in Edinburgh, about Jim, Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie. And about Sylvie and the man who’d made me flee home to Indiana.

There was no judgment from her; she was only sorry she hadn’t been there to help me through.

What surprised me most about leaving for Edinburgh was how hard it was to get on that plane and leave my mom. We’d somehow, miraculously, bonded and I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her go yet. But Donovan wasn’t my home. Edinburgh was in my blood now and it called for me to return.

As did Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie, every Sunday on Skype. Seonaid had been inspired by what she considered a brave decision to head home and face my fears.

She faced her own.

She told Roddy she was in love with him.

His reply, “About fuckin’ time, woman.”

Oh, and he told her he loved her too.

Now they were either bickering or making out. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and as happy as I was for them, I also secretly envied them.

When I was in the States, though, I missed them and was desperate to get home and see what the world was like when Roddy and Seonaid were an item.

My last push to leave Donovan was my mom herself. She told me she didn’t want to hold me back anymore and that she would come visit, and vice versa. So far that held true. Mom came to stay with me for a few weeks in the summer before I started my first semester at Edinburgh University. I got into their English Literature and Language program and had every intention of going on to get my master’s in education so I could teach. Once upon a time, I might have been interested in the psychology of others, but after my time with the kids at the hospital, I realized that I loved being around them. Teaching seemed like the next best thing.

As for my kids at the hospital, I’d arranged with Jan so that I could Skype that first Wednesday I missed them. Although we were both sad to say goodbye, I told them I had to go home to the States to be with family, which wasn’t actually a lie.

I missed them.

So yeah, teaching was the right path for me.

However, I didn’t want to give up on my dream of being on stage again. Pushing past my fears, I auditioned for Quentin’s company and to my surprise and delight, he let me in, even though he said that I was—and I quote, “From the blasted colonies.”

Seonaid, honest as always, told me only a few weeks ago how proud of me she was for pulling my life together, and she’d never seen me so content, so at peace. It was like she was looking for reassurance too, though, that I was happy. And I told her I’d never been happier.

It wasn’t true.

But how I felt was real. I had been determined to change my life. I’d forgiven myself. I’d stopped berating myself. And I never wanted to feel like I wasn’t good enough for anyone ever again. Moreover, I was never going to put myself in the same situation I’d put myself in with Aidan Lennox.

There.

I said his name.

What was Aidan Lennox but a fantasy created by my longing and circumstance? Yet thinking of him still hurt, so I rarely allowed myself to, which meant I rarely allowed myself to think of Sylvie, either.

And I wouldn’t think about them now.

I glanced over my shoulder at Jack who was playing around on his phone. “Rehearsal is running a little late tonight, right?” I whispered.

“His Majesty forgets some of us have lives outside the the-ah-ter.”

I grinned and was about to joke that we should pull the fire alarm when the large double doors at the back of the auditorium opened. A tall man stepped inside but it was too dark to make out his features.

Jack followed my gaze. “Hey,” he called, “private rehearsals going on tonight, mate.”

The man didn’t reply.

Instead we heard Quentin yell, “Is that who I think it is?”

The man strode down the aisle toward us and the light started to crawl up his body the closer he got. “Told you I’d be here,” his reply was deep and rumbling.

It sent a shiver down my spine.

I knew that voice.

His face was suddenly alight and as he passed, his eyes flickered down to Jack and me.

There was so much fire in those green eyes, I thought I might go up in flames.

He certainly looked like he wished I would.

Aidan?

His expression blanked, like an eraser had come along and wiped it clean, and he jerked his face forward and strode to meet Quentin, holding his hand out. Our director grabbed Aidan’s hand and shook it, smiling from ear to ear. He clamped his other hand on Aidan’s big shoulder and shook his head in wonder. “Aidan Lennox, I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” Aidan grinned at him.

I sat stunned, wondering if I’d been spun into an alternate reality. Or the past. Or some weird mix of the two.

“Everybody,” Quentin gestured to us all, “this is my good friend Aidan Lennox. He’s a very successful music producer and composer. And for some ludicrous reason I will not question, he has agreed to write original music for our production!”

Everyone clapped, excited about the idea.

Me?

I could wave goodbye to no offstage drama.

It was hard to make friends with the people in my classes. There weren’t a whole lot of mature students, and those who were had partners and kids to go home to right after class. This meant, other than taking Jack up on his offer, I had no one to go to after rehearsal who wouldn’t see that I was distracted. Seonaid, Roddy, and Angie would all know something was up and I didn’t want to talk about Aidan’s sudden reappearance in my life.

Not once in the five minutes Quentin took to introduce Aidan had my past love acknowledged me or the fact that we knew each other.

He treated me like I was a stranger. One he looked through.

After what he did to me?

Laine was right—he could be an asshole to women.