A Wright Christmas - K.A. Linde Page 0,16

recover, I’d thought it would be a fun, easily dismissed fluff piece. But her editor loved it and decided to make it a full four-page spread in the magazine. There was an entire page of just me sitting on the stage at Lincoln Center, putting my ballet slippers on.

I’d done other magazine pieces before, of course. The publicity was part of the job. It helped keep dance and culture and the New York City Ballet in people’s minds. But this felt different. This hadn’t really been about my dancing; it had been about my biggest downfall. I’d felt vulnerable and exposed. Even though everyone else loved it, I still cringed, thinking about how low I’d fallen.

“It was just incredible, reading about your road to recovery,” the woman said. “Truly inspiring.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re all healed up now?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s good. I can’t wait to see you on opening night.”

“Excuse me,” a voice cut through my latest flock of admirers.

I turned and found Isaac’s handsome face. My heart fluttered. He’d made it.

“Do you mind if I steal Peyton for a minute?”

The woman looked between us with a coy smile on her face. “Not at all.” She patted my hand. “It was so nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Isaac gestured for me to walk before him, and I did so as quickly as I could without looking like I was scurrying.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

He stopped when we were far enough away and met my eyes. “Always, Peyton. Always.”

8

Isaac

“As much as you love the spotlight onstage, you truly hate it in person,” I said to her, grabbing two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray. I handed one to her.

She mumbled, “Thank you,” and took a fortifying sip. “Yeah, well, I always have.”

“I don’t know how you even handle the life you live.”

She shrugged. “Most times, I don’t know either. But I love ballet more than anything, and it’s not always people rushing me to discuss the Time article. I should have prepared myself for that.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked off, away from me. Her face was carefully blank, but I could read her like no other. Even all these years later, she gave the same tell. A part of her thought that she should have known what to expect here. She’d always been hard on herself. Perfectionist to the core.

“I’m really glad that you made it,” she said instead when she looked back to me.

“I said that I would.”

“I know, but you have Aly, and I didn’t consider how you were going to get away. This isn’t even a real performance or anything.”

“Aly is fine. She’s with Annie for the night, who was happy to make her go to bed and then study some oversized medical text.”

“Well, that’s nice of her, but—”

“And I didn’t want to miss it, Peyton,” I assured her. “You were really amazing onstage.”

She flushed and covered it by taking another sip of her champagne. “Thank you. It wasn’t much.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always been great, but now, you’re beyond anything that I’ve seen. I can tell you’ve spent years perfecting your craft.”

And I wasn’t just blowing smoke. Dance brought out something in her. It was a light, a beacon. She glowed onstage, as if there were nowhere else she was supposed to be in the world.

I remembered the first time that I’d seen her dance. Ironically, it was a Nutcracker performance. She had been dancing Arabian, and though it was easily the only piece in Nutcracker that had any sex appeal, all I saw was a girl who had been born for the stage. A girl that I couldn’t live without. It felt dramatic for the time, but I was fifteen years old. We’d been dating for four months, and when she had come out from backstage, I’d told her I loved her.

“Well, I’m glad the years have paid off,” she said, modest as ever.

She was on top of her game. What the hell was she doing in Lubbock for the season? Shouldn’t she be performing The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center all Christmas?

“How did you work it out to be here all month?”

“Oh, I have to be back in the city by Christmas Day to finalize rehearsals, and then I’ll dance the entire week between Christmas and New Year’s. Most other principals want that week off anyway.”

“I’m surprised they agreed to that.”

She turned away and waved at a friend approaching. “It was nothing.”

But the way she’d said