Page 69 of Love Out Loud

Chapter 24

Lennon

Watching Lark from the audience and not the sound booth was a different experience, but when she asked me to fly back for a weekend to see her as the lead during her junior year of college, who was I to refuse? I’d certainly never say no to her if I could help it.

She had sent out a mass email and bought tickets for all of us, so I was sitting between Richard and her parents. Richard had insisted that he needed an aisle seat to stretch his legs. I had bitten my tongue against reminding him that I was two inches taller and this newly renovated theater was designed for people of average height, like himself. Comparing height for no reason felt like a juvenile thing to do, and we were adults now. So, instead, I sat happily next to Lark’s mother and indulged her proud, whispered comments every time Lark sang or danced. When she came out in a poodle skirt and cardigan, her mom practically squealed about how cute she was. I had to agree. Richard, however, made no comments at all. It didn’t even seem like he was all that interested.

Watching Lark was a joy, as always. Her blue eyes sparkled in the stage lights, and she looked almost weightless as she danced. Every joke landed, and the audience ate it up. It was no surprise to me. I had seen Lark own the stage a thousand times before, but it was no less special to see it now.

Richard, however, looked around at the audience every time they laughed at something funny, almost as if he was surprised. When she leaned in for a kiss with the male lead, he visibly bristled, and I had to fight against the urge to lean over and remind him that she was acting.

At intermission, Lark’s parents left to use the restroom in a flutter of happiness. Richard stood to stretch, and I averted my eyes from the swath of hairy skin that appeared under the hem of his shirt when he raised his arms.

“I’m so ready for this show to be over,” he said as he settled back into his seat.

“I hadn’t realized you did a lot of work on it,” I said drily.

“No.” He scoffed. “I mean I’m sick of these late nights. Lark wants to be home with me, not killing herself for this.” He waved at the stage.

I eyed him sidelong, then shifted my gaze to the red velvet curtain currently blocking the view of the stage. Shadows of feet moving set pieces hustled back and forth under the yellow fringe at the bottom. I remembered those days with a pang—all hands on deck to move a giant set. Assistant directors and stage managers whispering directions and brandishing clipboards. Actors shimmying in and out of costumes for the second half. I pictured someone back there calling, “Five till curtain!” And Lark and the others responding, “thank you, five.” The energy was palpable, even from here. Even as an audience member.

I couldn’t imagine anyone wishing for the end of a show’s run. Certainly not Lark.

“She loves this,” I muttered, unable to help myself.

“She loves me more.” Richard shrugged. “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone, Johnny. She’s just getting this out of her system so she can settle down and marry me. And then we can put all this behind us.”

He only used that nickname for me because Lark wasn’t here. It scraped against the raw edges of my emotions, which were already on high from seeing her onstage again. I had to be comfortable taking the moral high ground and not responding by calling him Dick, which he also hated.

But he knew exactly what he was doing, striking up this conversation with me. He was staking his claim on her by telling me things had changed. He wanted me to think I was the outsider here. And maybe I was, but I didn’t want to spiral into heart palpitations and anxious thoughts on the one night I got to see Lark, so I gritted my teeth and took a couple of deep breaths until her parents came back and the lights dimmed again.

The second half was even better than the first, and when it was over, we waited for Lark in the lobby. I held a simple bouquet of pink lilies. Richard cradled a giant one of probably about two dozen red roses, and I had the dim thought that he was overdoing it to cover up his annoyance at the whole thing.

I heard Lark’s effervescent laughter rise up over the din of the crowd before I saw her. But as soon as she came into view, her eyes landed on me. She had been so busy backstage and my flight had been delayed, so I hadn’t seen her before the show, but now it was like the whole world stopped in the moment before she ran and launched herself into my arms. I dropped her bouquet to the ground so I could squeeze her to me.

“You came.” She laughed into my neck. “I’m so glad.”

“Of course I came,” I said into her hair, which was still stiff and smelled strongly of hairspray.

“Honey,” Richard’s condescension grated on my last nerve. “You’re getting makeup all over his shirt.”

Lark pulled back, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. “He doesn’t care, do you, Lennon?”

I shook my head. Who the fuck cared about a little makeup when I was holding Lark again after almost a year of being apart?

“Well, you’ll have to wash your face before I take you out to celebrate,” he insisted.

At that, she removed herself from my grasp, and I immediately felt the lack of her. My fingers itched to touch her again, to remind myself that she was real and I was here.

She frowned in his direction. “What do you mean, before you take me out?”

“I have reservations for us at that Italian place you like,” he said. “I thought I told you.”

She shook her head. “I would have remembered that, because I would have reminded you that my parents and Lennon were going to be here and I want to go out with everyone.”

Richard pouted, and the motion was so childish, I had to shove my fists into my pocket to avoid decking it right off his face. “But I haven’t gotten any time with you lately.”

Lark faltered. “I know, but…” Then her eyes grew fierce as she subtly planted her feet. “Richard, don’t make me choose. You won’t like the choice I make.”