Page 75 of Forbidden Romeo
“I didn’t finish reading your journal entries,” I admit.
His biceps soften ever so slightly from beneath my palms, relaxing with my words. “Oh. Is that all?”
“I… I don’t know if I can do it, Holden.”
My entire body tenses, my hands gripping onto Holden's biceps as if they were my lifeline. “I don’t know if I can read your words. I don’t know if I can relive the worst time in my entire life through your eyes.” The familiar swell of panic tightens in my throat like it always does when I think about that time in my life. The air feels heavy and suffocating, like a damp cloth pressed against my nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe.
“Hey,” Holden says, his face etched with concern, his eyes searching mine. His grip on me is tight, but gentle, his fingers pressing into my muscles, massaging and circling them as he holds me tighter against him. “I’m here, Katherine. I’m not going anywhere. I know I said you had to read along, but I take that back. And if you want me to sit with you while you read, I will. If you need me to wait outside your door, I will. If you need me to walk across the Sahara barefoot… I’ll… well, I’ll be miserable and probably fail, but I’ll try.”
I chuckle. “I’m not sure how a walk across scorching desert sand would help. But… I think… I think it might be good to have you there with me. When I read.”
“Anything you need,” he says, kissing the top of my head. The calming beat of Holden's heart against my ear as I hug into his chest is strangely reassuring.
“I love you,” he reiterates. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
The only problem is… I believe he loves me. But he’s never stuck around long enough for me to trust that love was enough. I trusted him once before.
Believing and trusting is how you get your heart broken. And even when he doesn’t mean to, Holden is an expert at that.
I pull away from his embrace and tug his hand toward the door. “C’mon,” I urge him. “There’s a bottle of champagne and a whole party waiting for us.”
He drags his feet and sighs before finally giving in and following me out of the dimly lit dressing room. As we descend the solid marble stairs toward the opulent lobby of the old theater, I can hear the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses growing louder. I clutch Holden’s hand as we navigate through the crowded hallway like it's my life preserver in the middle of a turbulent ocean.
A bubbling glass of champagne is placed in our free hands and cheers erupt as we land in the center of the room. Holden’s dad gives me a very performative hug and kiss on the cheek. Maggie taps her glass to mine and blows me a kiss. And Amy rushes at me, hugging me tightly against her. “Thank you for bringing Skyler to life,” she whispers in my ear. “I can’t imagine a better actress for this part.”
Jill stands on the other side of the crowded room, her smile radiant despite the redness in her eyes. My heart swells at the sight of her, a wave of emotion hitting me, and I push my way through the partygoers to reach her. We collide in a fierce embrace, both of us holding back tears
“You did it,” she whispers.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t have done any of it without you. I think I would’ve quit school in the first month.”
“The best thing that school ever did was make us roommates,” Jill whispers.
Blinking, I look over to Nolan who leans down and gives me a quick hug. “Great job, newbie,” he says with a wink. “Although, I think I need a new nickname for you after tonight.”
I grin and shake my head. “Never.”
Within minutes, Holden and I are swept apart. He’s rushed off by his father to meet people. And I tug Jill over to meet and talk to Amy so they can talk all about writing plays.
As the night progresses, I find myself in a whirlwind of conversations and congratulatory toasts. The room is filled with laughter and the sweet sound of clinking glasses. I feel a sense of accomplishment and joy, but also an undercurrent of exhaustion. Yet, amidst all the celebration, I can't help but keep an eye on Holden, who seems to be getting pulled further and further away from me by his father.
Suddenly, my gaze lands on an unexpected sight. Across the room, my sister Mallory stands in a corner. Alone. Arms crossed and pacing.
What the hell is my sister doing here?
As I make my way through the crowded room, weaving past groups of chatting guests, I finally reach Mallory. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the mix of surprise and apprehension in her expression.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep my composure despite the shock coursing through me.
Mallory shifts uncomfortably on her feet, her gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet mine once more. "I… I wanted to see my sister make her Broadway debut," she says hesitantly, her words tinged with an unspoken apology. “You were… you were really good.”
“Thanks.”
The tension between us is palpable as we stand there, the noise of the party fading into the background as we confront each other's presence in this unexpected place.
After a moment of silence that stretches between us like an invisible barrier, Mallory takes a step closer and reaches out a hand towards mine. I hesitate for a heartbeat before tentatively grasping it, feeling the weight of our shared history pressing down on us.
"I know things have been rough between us," Mallory begins softly, her eyes searching mine for understanding. "But I want to try and make things right." Her eyes flick across the room to where Holden is schmoozing some producers. “I still don’t trust him.”