The Gritty Truth (The Whiskeys Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor #7) - Melissa Foster Page 0,106

his way through town, but he just squeezed her hand, letting her wonder.

When he pulled down the road that led to their destination, she said, “Are we going to the Harlequin Playhouse?”

“Sure are.”

“That’s where we hold our showcases. I danced here when I was young, but they don’t have productions Thursday nights.”

“This is a special show.”

“What are we seeing?” she asked excitedly.

“It’s a surprise.” He parked in the near-empty lot.

As he helped her out of the truck, she asked, “Are we early?”

“Maybe a little.”

Quincy loved the way her face lit up as they entered the luxurious lobby, with deep-red carpet, dark-wood walls, and fancy chandeliers. A door to their right opened, and Raya Singh, the manager of the playhouse, walked toward them in a fitted blue dress. She had olive skin, straight black hair, and high cheekbones and reminded Quincy of Elisa, only younger. He’d met with Raya several times to arrange the surprise for Roni.

“Quincy, Roni, it’s so nice to see you.” She embraced Quincy. Smiling warmly at Roni’s curious expression, she said, “You have quite a thoughtful boyfriend.”

As Raya embraced her, Roni looked over her shoulder at Quincy and said, “Have you been scheming with Raya?”

“You’ll see,” Quincy said.

Raya lowered her voice conspiratorially and said, “He’s very good at scheming. Let me take your coats, and then you can go into the theater and make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thank you, Raya,” Quincy said, helping Roni off with her coat and handing them to Raya.

“Your corsage is beautiful,” Raya said.

“Thank you.” She took Quincy’s hand and said, “It’s the first one I’ve ever been given.”

“That makes tonight an even more memorable evening. I hope you enjoy the show.”

They headed into the empty theater, and as they made their way toward the front, Roni said, “I’m so nervous. What have you done?”

“I fell in love,” he said, because what other answer was there?

THE LIGHTS DIMMED, and the curtains drew back, revealing a pearlescent screen. “Are we watching a movie?” Roni whispered.

Quincy put his arm around her. “Remember when I said I wished I could go back and see all of your performances? This is even better, because I get to watch them with you.”

She had no idea what he meant, but before she could ask, the screen lit up, and six-year-old Roni appeared, standing center stage in her lavender Summer Showcase leotard and skirt. Music began playing, and the little girl lifted her face, so serious and focused. Roni’s pulse raced as she watched her younger self dance. She remembered that production. She’d been just as nervous back then as she was now, but Gram had said, There’s nothing you can’t do if you want it bad enough. As Roni watched, the dance turned to a montage of her dancing during her childhood intermixed with still shots of her and Gram. Tears spilled down Roni’s cheek, and Quincy kissed her temple and rested his head against hers as they watched her bloom before their eyes into a teenager dancing alone on the stage.

God, I was so good.

An hour or more passed as years of group dances and solos played out before them. Roni couldn’t believe her eyes. Quincy had even included footage of her and Angela performing together and still shots of them before and after the shows. How did he get all of the footage and pictures? The screen went dark, and just as she turned to ask him, it lit up again with one of the dances she’d performed while at Juilliard. Fresh tears fell as memories returned of the competitive edge she’d needed, the constant nervousness she’d endured from trying to meet and exceed everyone’s expectations—most of all her own—and the glorious, insurmountable feeling of accomplishment, of shining among elite dancers, that had made it all worthwhile. When a picture of her graduation certificate from Juilliard appeared on the screen, a sob fell from her lips, and she covered her mouth. She’d tucked that away in a box in her closet. There was no way he could have found that.

Quincy held her tighter and whispered, “Love you.”

Her chest felt like it might burst as the audition she’d done for the dance company in New York appeared on the screen. The lump that had lodged in her throat expanded painfully as she watched herself gliding gracefully across the stage, her movements perfect.

Where did you get this?

She swiped at her tears, but there was no stopping them as the screen lit up with a montage of still shots of Roni in