Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

or the love song we sang. A love song that was a campy comedy. Story of my life. The audience laughed because it was rather funny—and also because I liked to milk the comedy whenever I had the opportunity. Leading roles were usually quite boring, so if I could spice it up a little and get a few laughs, I called it a win. But even without the laughs, getting to kiss Will, even though it was make believe—I called that a definite win. And so did Kitty.

My inner critic (let’s call him Jeff) was the one heckling and throwing tomatoes and ruining it for everybody like the two old men on the Muppet Show. He’d say, “It’s a stage kiss. Get over it.” or “He does this for a living, you moron.”

At which point, I thought to myself, ‘A falling chandelier would come in handy right about now.’

Anyway. The show must go on regardless of hecklers or standing ovations or falling chandeliers because Will was brilliant. By the look in his eyes, I wasn’t too shabby either. Our voices just melded well. It was a good blend. Who said oil and vinegar didn’t mix? What the heck was salad dressing made out of for crying out loud? All it needed was a binding agent like honey and voila! Magic.

So what was the binding agent Will and I had? Music? Theatre? The ‘L’ word? (Laughter).

Here is food for joyous laughter. He will be faithful to his sooth ‘til we are wed and even after.

Such a silly song. Such a silly show. And so much fun. We faced each other, holding hands and singing our hearts out. Will’s face shone. He was in his element. Don’t get me wrong—he was mighty hot on the big screen, but I could tell he really loved the stage. “I love it too.” I tried to express with my eyes. “This is what I live for.”

Maybe he understood me, or maybe we were just caught up in the moment, but at the climax of the song, when the high notes rang out, and every emotion was at a heightened state, his lips crashed into mine. And my racing pulse and the crescendo of the piano and the applause of the audience rang out in one final chord.

I mentally gave Kitty a high five because she got her encore. I wasn’t complaining either. It was the opposite of complaining, in fact. It was two thumbs up. Five stars. One hundred and ten percent on Rotten Tomatoes. It was the Oscars and the Tonys and the Golden Globes all rolled into one. It won all the awards. Take that, Jeff.

I almost forgot there was an audience at all until the swell of hands clapping died down, and Will reluctantly broke the kiss. His eyes flashed to mine, and he spoke a thousand words in a single smile before disengaging from our embrace to bow gratefully for the crowd. He gestured to me, and I also bowed. Then we drew the attention to Fitz who stood from the piano bench and gave a nod. More applause. Then Stella returned to the stage, and that’s when everyone stood. A few hoots and whistles echoed before Stella took the handheld mic and hushed the audience. It was more of the same speech about the Arts Fellowship and to come see Pirates of Penzance in a week, show dates, etcetera. But Will and I didn’t stick around to listen to any more. He squeezed my hand, which he had yet to let go of, and pulled me backstage. We ran through the back, out of the tent and away from the stuffy party. The winter air was cool, but the stage lights and the song made us so warm, the crisp air was refreshing, and we laughed all the way to the tennis courts. It was a wild, exhilarating experience. Like we’d just crashed a party and took over the entertainment but had to make a run for it before getting caught. I couldn’t wipe off the smile plastered to my face.

“So,” I said, out of breath. “That just happened.”

“Yeah. It did, didn’t it?”

His features were lit with an enchantment. Were we talking about the performance? Or the kiss? Scratch that. Two kisses. He was still holding my hand. Gah!

“Yeah,” I replied. “You were really good.”

“So were you,” he said softly. His voice was laced with desire—gentle, coaxing. And I panicked. If he were to kiss me again, it was about to get real. And that scared me a little. I couldn’t rationalize why. It just did.

“Everybody was good,” I blurted, slipping my hand from his grasp. “Stella, Fitz… and did you hear Francesca hit that E six? Incredible.”

He stepped away, just one tiny step, but it might as well have been a mile. Something akin to disappointment washed over his features, but he remained smiling.

“Was that an E six?” he said. “I’ll bet you could hit that note.”

“Ehhh, I can work up to it on a good day,” I admitted. “But not like Jane. She owns that note.”

I smiled at the thought of Jane with her coloratura voice. But Will’s brow furrowed, and he seemed deep in thought when he asked, “How is Jane?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Better than fine. She’s in New York, actually. Probably impressing the socks off all of Broadway’s casting directors.”

“So she’s auditioning?” he said. “Glad to hear it.” He nodded to himself and returned silently to whatever thought lived behind those dark brows, his expression far away and inaccessible. I supposed that was where the magic ended. At any moment, he would go back into that big house of his, and I’d have to look for Enrique to take me home. Was Enrique even around anymore? I couldn’t imagine he’d hang out waiting in that limo just to give me a ride. Maybe it was a one-way trip, and I’d have to Uber it back to my apartment. I’d have to get my little backpack