Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two) Read online

  “Oh, Jesus,” Rorie groaned. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Polly’s kid goes to the same school as Cecily’s, and those two do not get along. It’s like some sort of high school mean girl rivalry between them.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Susan said, arching her eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about it. You and Cecily back together?”

  Rorie rolled her eyes. “Susan, please. You’ve got some imagination.”

  “Oh, really? So I guess I was just imagining that you slept at her house on Sunday night?”

  “What?” Rorie leaned forward in her chair with alarm. “How did you know that?”

  Susan grinned. “Uh huh. I thought so. Even though I’ve moved from Manhattan, I like to think I still have a little bit of fashionista in me. You didn’t think I noticed what you came in here wearing on Monday morning? That blouse was a little, uh, matronly for your usual tastes.” Susan shrugged. “Of course, I might’ve said the same about Mrs. Parker herself, but clearly I would’ve been wrong about that.”

  Rorie pressed her hands against her temples. “That stupid shirt. I wish to God I had just gone back to the hotel to change.” She filled Susan in on her run-in with Polly at Tyler’s school, and Cecily’s response. “She was so upset about the fact that someone would see me, that Polly or one of her friends would make the connection between us. It was like college all over again.”

  “Is that fair, though? I mean, you have to admit it's a sticky situation.”

  “I know. And maybe it's just my own insecurities talking. Of course, they talk pretty loudly. And so do I. I think I managed to say some stuff that basically ruined everything anyway. I've kind of been avoiding giving her a chance to tell me for sure.” Rorie shut her eyes tight, filled with frustration over the mess she'd created. “Regardless, having Polly here is going to be problematic. Can't you just tell her no?”

  Susan sighed. “Unfortunately, we need the help. You said so yourself just now. We’re just going to have to make the best—wait, hold on—” Susan said as her cell phone ringtone interrupted her. She answered the call, and her tension seemed to escalate as she listened to whatever the caller had to say. “Oh God,” she said when she hung up. “We have a situation. I need to get a hold of Rinaldo.”

  “Bailey’s new security guy? What kind of trouble has our little diva gotten herself into this time?”

  “Some sort of mob at the mall. This time it sounded serious, like the situation might be dangerous. And it’s not just Bailey. Your girlfriend’s with her.”

  Rorie felt the color drain from her face and a cold lump form in the pit of her stomach. She was too overcome with worry to bother correcting Susan about the fact that Cecily wasn’t actually her girlfriend. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously as Susan placed a call to Rinaldo.

  “Okay, I think we’ve got it worked out,” Susan announced when she’d hung up the call. “He’ll pick them up from a back area, away from the public, and bring them here.”

  “Do you know what happened? If they’re okay?” Rorie asked, the worry tearing at her insides.

  Susan shook her head. “Not in any detail. We’ll just have to wait.” Her phone bounced along the top of her desk, vibrating from the arrival of a text. She picked it up and stared at the screen, her brow furrowing. “You should see this,” she said, handing the phone to Rorie.

  Rorie watched the video, about a minute of grainy footage captured on someone’s phone and uploaded to a celebrity social media site, in horrified silence. There were at least a dozen people—stupid, angry people—chasing Cecily and Bailey into the store. They were yelling, and it looked like a few of them were throwing things. One of them wore a t-shirt with Phinn’s picture on the front.

  This is madness.

  Rorie’s stomach clenched. What if Cecily had been hurt? Her heart raced. In her worry, she no longer cared about the long-term future or the consequences. All she wanted was for Cecily to come back, safe, and to be with her for as many days as she could. She stared at the door to Susan’s office, willing Cecily to walk through.

  The hands on the clock ticked by as they waited in excruciating silence. Rorie paced the room until Susan barked at her to sit down. Finally, the doorknob turned and Cecily was there, looking shaken but unharmed. She was alone, a fact Rorie noted somewhat belatedly, well after launching herself from her chair and flinging her arms around Cecily’s neck. She would have smothered her with kisses regardless, but she felt relieved afterward to know that there hadn’t been a whole entourage watching as she did so, for Cecily’s sake. Rorie felt even more relieved that the eagerness with which Cecily returned her kisses hinted that she wouldn’t have minded even if there had been.

  “You know, I think I’ll just go,” Susan said, skirting around the two, still mid-embrace. “Give you some privacy.”

  Rorie flashed an embarrassed grin. “Sorry. I’ll stop,” she offered, but Susan waved her off with a wry shake of the head.

  When they were alone, Rorie shut the door and grasped Cecily’s hands in hers. “Are you okay? I saw a video of what happened. Were you scared?” Her eyes never left Cecily’s face as she spoke, she was almost afraid to let her out of her sight long enough to blink.

  “I’m okay. Shaken up.” She shuddered visibly as she said it, her voice tremulous. “It was surreal while it was happening. I had no idea what was going on. Poor Bailey, though. She’s gone through it enough times that she knew immediately, and was actually clear-headed about getting us out of there. It wasn’t until we were safely in the car on the drive back here that it hit me how terrified I was.”

  Rorie pulled Cecily into her arms again, clasping her tightly to her chest. “If anything had happened to you,” she whispered, unable to finish the sentence. “I’ve been so stupid this week, so confused. I should have called you, or come by after work, or—”

  Cecily shook her head, her cheek brushing against Rorie’s lips as she did. “No, I know why you didn’t.” She pulled back slightly, her brown eyes glistening with tears. “And as emotional as we might feel right now, nothing’s changed since Monday. You’re still going back to LA, and my life's still here, and this still ends in heartbreak.”

  “The other thing that hasn’t changed,” Rorie said, voice barely more than a whisper, “is that I love you, Cici. I always have. Knowing that, are you willing to forget all of those very reasonable things you just said and let us have these few weeks together?”

  Cecily smiled a sad smile. “Willing?” She breathed out a laugh. “You say that like there's a choice. Like that decision wasn’t already made the second I walked into this office and you kissed me. Like somehow I haven’t been in love with you all this time, too.”

  Rorie’s heart leapt at her confession. She couldn’t have felt more elated if Cecily had told her that she’d come up with a solution after all, a way for them to be together for good. Which she pointedly had not. It didn’t matter. Even though there was no reason for it to be so, knowing that Cecily loved her ignited the tiniest spark of hope, and for now it was enough. And it was time to stop dwelling on it, because there were much better things to do with their time.

  With a devilish grin, she flicked the light switch, plunging the office into semi-darkness.

  Cecily giggled nervously. “What are you doing?”

  “Buying us a little bit of time and privacy. Susan knows better than to come back any time soon, but if her office is dark, anyone looking for her will just pass by.”

  “That’s very clever. Now, why do we need privacy?” She affected a coy expression as she asked, and her slight southern accent drew the words out into a lazy drawl.

  Silently, with a hand on each shoulder and a mischievous look in her eyes, Rorie guided her to the middle of the office. She kicked the rolling chair out from under the desk with one foot and, with a downward press, directed Cecily to sit. She bent to kiss her, long and deep, the ends of a few loose braids brushing against Cecily’s bare neck. Rorie brushed her lips against th
e side of Cecily’s jaw, nibbling along her throat and down her chest. Cupping a breast in each hand, she pressed them together, burrowing her nose and lips into the soft cleft of flesh. She wrapped her arms around Cecily, easing herself downward until she was settled, kneeling, on the floor in front of the chair. She raked her fingers along the coarse fabric of Cecily’s skirt, hooking her thumbs at the hem and bunching the skirt up along her legs as she caressed Cecily’s thighs.

  “The skirt was a very good choice,” she teased. “Convenient. And how lucky it wasn’t too cold today for bare legs.” Rorie pressed her lips to the delicate, creamy skin along Cecily’s inner thigh, unable to suppress a chuckle at the hissing sound of Cecily’s breath when she did, the way it made her wriggle closer to the edge of the chair, her legs drifting wider apart. Rorie grasped handfuls of skirt, prepared to roll it even higher, but froze as a great bumping noise shook the wall beside them.

  Cecily’s eyes widened. “What was that?” she whispered. It happened again, louder and stronger this time, and Cecily’s body stiffened. A moment later, the doorknob jiggled. Cecily flew from the chair to the floor, and Rorie was startled to feel the thud as she landed beside her. Their legs tangled as Cecily scrambled to the open space beneath the desk and pulled Rorie in after her so that they were both hidden from view.

  “Why are we under the desk?” Rorie whispered.

  “Someone’s trying to come in. I don’t want to get caught!”

  “You didn’t think to just stand up and pull your skirt down?” Rorie hissed. In addition to the sudden interruption spoiling her mood, something in their hiding space was poking her in the head most unpleasantly, making her more than a little testy.

  “Obviously not!” Cecily shot back.

  After a final bang, they heard the office door fly open and the sound of stumbling feet, then the door clicking shut again. Then it was quiet, except for the enthusiastic panting breathing that presumably was coming from the two newest occupants of the room. From their vantage point it was hard to tell exactly who or how many people had come in, but the occasional giggle and muffled moan lent itself to drawing certain conclusions.

  Shit. Rorie groaned. She was not the only one who had plans for Susan’s office this afternoon.

  “Is that—” Cecily began.

  “Shhh!” Rorie warned.

  A crashing thud reverberated around them as something hit the desk above.

  “Oh, God, Bailey!” a man’s voice moaned in ecstasy from somewhere disturbingly nearby.

  “Oh, Phinn!” a woman’s voice squealed in reply.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Rorie heard a snorting sound escape Cecily’s throat and could feel her shaking from pent-up laughter in the darkness. Rorie’s wrapped her arms more tightly around the other woman, her stomach beginning to cramp from the strain of holding in her own laughter.

  “Are they—” Cecily tried to ask.

  “Shhh!” Rorie urged again, pressing her fingers to Cecily’s lips while she bit down on her own to stay quiet.

  The noises continued above them most enthusiastically, and for an impressively long time, while the room’s hidden occupants struggled valiantly not to choke to death on their repressed giggling. After what felt like an eternity, they heard the office door open and shut and they were alone again. Cecily tumbled out of their hiding spot first, followed by Rorie, both clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath between fits of laughter.

  “I cannot believe that just happened!” Rorie declared. “If I live a hundred years, I can never unhear that. I’m just grateful the lights were out!”

  “Aw,” Cecily intoned fondly, “I guess they’re back together! Good for them!”

  Rorie snorted. “Yeah, I think we just got the worldwide exclusive on that news. Although honestly, I’m a little more interested in our own reconciliation right now than theirs.”

  Rorie felt Cecily snuggle close against her chest, and smiled in satisfaction.

  “So, did you still want to—” Cecily began.

  “—Not here.” Rorie was emphatic. “Those two have ruined this location for me forever. I’m not sure I’ll live through my next status update.”

  “Oh,” Cecily breathed, her disappointment evident.

  “However, I do have some fond memories of a certain white house in the suburbs, and it’s got to be well past quitting time by now.”

  “And I have a whole weekend ahead of me with no plans,” Cecily remarked. “Only I just remembered something. My car’s still in valet parking in Westchester County.”

  “That’s okay,” Rorie answered. “I’ll give you a ride home. As it turns out, I was planning on going right by your house on my way home tonight.”

  “Now that is a lucky coincidence,” Cecily said, leaning in to give her a kiss.

  Chapter 22

  “Stella!”

  Cecily jumped as a chorus of voices bellowed the famous line just as she opened the rehearsal hall door. The doorknob slipped from her hands and the door slammed shut. She reached for it again, laughing at her own clumsiness, and scurried inside to see what was going on.

  The room seemed full to bursting today, with at least half a dozen faces she'd never seen before. They were laughing and goofing off, taking turns hopping onto the giant table to scream “Stella!” at the top of their lungs.

  Spotting Bailey near the stage, Cecily went to find out what was going on.

  “It's a contest,” Bailey explained. “Winner chooses the pub for tonight. So far, my money's on Phinn, but I may be a little biased,” she added with an ill-concealed smirk.

  “But who are all these people?” Cecily asked, looking around bewildered.

  “The rest of the cast, silly! Remember?”

  “But, they're not supposed to be here until the last week of rehearsals.”

  Bailey gave her a quizzical look. “Yeah. That's this week.”

  Cecily's heart skipped a beat. Had the time gone by that quickly? That meant there was just this week left in the intimate setting of the rehearsal hall. Next week they would move to the big stage for the start of technical rehearsals, or Hell Week, as it was affectionately known. Cecily felt a nervous flutter in her stomach at the possibility of being called up on stage for the dress rehearsals, but put it out of her mind as quickly as possible. No sense dwelling on it, and everyone she'd talked to said it was highly unlikely. They rarely wasted precious tech rehearsal time on understudies.

  The door swung open and Otto entered, stopping to greet each new cast member personally. The room quieted down rapidly, with everyone taking their seats and suddenly looking the picture of professionalism now that their esteemed director had arrived. With so many new people, the seats at the table were full, so Cecily returned to the spot in the audience where she'd sat her first day, and prepared to watch.

  “Wait, guys,” Todd called out as they began. “Has anyone seen my script?”

  There was a groan from the actors as they searched their spaces for Todd's missing script. Again. Cecily saw Phinn slip into the room at this point. She hadn't noticed he was missing, but saw now that he was carrying a cup from the coffee shop across the street. He made a point of brushing past Bailey as he went to his seat, deftly slipping the cup into her hand mostly unnoticed. Cecily grinned at the adorableness of it. Phinn and Bailey hadn't made any announcements about being back together, and of course Cecily would never let on that she knew, but it warmed her heart to see them happy.

  “Before we get started, I brought some snacks!” Dorrie announced.

  The new cast members cheered, while those who'd been around since the start looked warily at the container she set on the table.

  “Vegan brownies, homemade!” she added. “There's no sugar in them, so they're good for you.”

  Cecily sucked in her cheeks to stop from laughing at the array of expressions on the faces of the cast; the looks of polite interest turning to utter revulsion as a few of the new people ventured a bite of what looked from a di
stance to be something you might feed a horse. Most of the old-timers were smart and hid theirs under napkins when Dorrie wasn't looking.

  What a fun and quirky cast this had turned out to be! As she sat through the rehearsal that day, it was hard for Cecily to believe how different her life was after just six weeks. She'd made new friends and woke up every morning excited to start a new day. Of course, that had more than a little to do with the fact that she woke up every morning wrapped in Rorie's arms. With tech week looming, Cecily felt a growing sense of urgency. She couldn't imagine ever going back to her life before Rorie had reentered it. The thought of being that person again filled her with hollowness and desperation. Somehow, she had to come up with a way for it not to end.

  On the first night of technical rehearsals the Oakwood buzzed with all the frantic activity of a hive of honeybees. This was the time when everything that should have been finished weeks ago suddenly got revealed as being not quite done after all, and where every detail had to come together magically on stage despite the odds.

  Cecily watched it all unfold from the comfort of a seat about ten rows back in the orchestra section of the Oakwood’s eight hundred seat auditorium, along with several other cast, crew, and volunteers. The seats, front and center, were the type that audience members would kill for on opening night. While they were free of charge to their occupants this evening, Cecily had the growing sense, as the start of the eleventh straight hour of rehearsal loomed, that one or more people sitting near her could very well end up being killed before the week was over.

  She scanned the room, observing, and placing mental bets on who the most likely victim might be. Would it be the assistant costume designer who’d just found out that three of the costumes in Act One would have to be torn apart and completely rebuilt by tomorrow afternoon? She was looking a little green in the face right now, probably at the thought of reporting the changes to her mutinous crew in the morning.

  Or maybe it would be Dorrie. Poor wholesome, healthy Dorrie, who’d consumed nothing but generic-brand toaster pastries from the vending machine since their seven a.m. call time. Now that her blood sugar had crashed, she was folding and weaving all those foil wrappers together with the glassy-eyed diligence of a mental patient during crafts time, and it didn’t bode well.