Page 301 of Sweet Nightmare

“Even in a crowded room…all I see is him.” — A

Backstage is chaos wrapped in glitter and upbeat music thunders through the walls. Stylists sprint past me with garment bags, makeup artists scream for missing lip tints, and someone is having a full-blown breakdown over a ruined bra. Someone else is threatening to kill whoever misplaced a pair of ten-foot wings.

I sit before the vanity mirror while three people work on finishing touches.

My white lingerie looks like starlight caught in a net. Thousands of crystals shimmer against my skin, silver and delicate chains drape over my hips and scatter light with every movement I make.

My hair falls straight down my back, threaded with silver extensions.

And behind me?

My wings.

They’re massive, translucent, and sculpted to resemble frozen glass.

The Fantasy Butterfly.

I’m surprised and the grand finale of the Winter Wingx show. Nobody knows I’m walking the runway in less than five minutes.

I reach up to adjust a crystal strap when a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.

“Move. Important delivery.”

I glance over my shoulder.

Stevie stands in the doorway, holding a white box tied with a silver ribbon. She’s grinning like a woman who knows something I don’t. Mika follows behind her, looking like she’s reconsidering every life choice that led her here.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Open the damn box before she starts crying,” Mika mutters.

I take the box from Stevie and watch her bounce on her feet from excitement.

I quickly open the box and inside, nestled against white velvet, lies a gorgeous diamond tiara. Not just a tiara but something that resembles a winter storm in diamonds. Silver branches twist between diamonds that resemble icicles frozen mid-fall. Every movement catches the light, sending tiny flashes across the room.

It’s…perfect.

Beneath it lies a folded note.

Every beautiful Ice Princess deserves a crown.

— Stephen

Oh.

That man.

That absolutely unfair, ridiculously handsome, emotionally devastating man.

My heart and brain forget their jobs.

“May I?” Stevie asks, already looking emotional.

I nod.

She gently places the tiara on my head, and I turn toward the mirror.

The wings. The crystals. The diamonds. And a little piece of Stephen tucked against my heart.