All day things had been running through her mind, one was the look in Warner’s eyes when he’d stopped by for the key. Something was bothering him and it was bad enough he couldn’t even talk to her about it.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She held onto the breath for a moment and then let it out slowly. There was no time to let a man work into her head. Well, not her man. There was about to be a rumble between the Jets and the Sharks and that’s all she could worry about. As far as she was concerned, for the next two hours, Warner Wright didn’t exist.

Warner had stood outside the bustling theater for nearly twenty minutes. He’d watched her family walk inside. All of them including, what he assumed, were her grandparents. If he walked away there would be an obvious hole in the row of seats, she’d said there’d be a ticket waiting for him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and started up the steps to the theater doors. As he entered the lobby the lights dimmed and returned. This was a sign that the curtain was about to rise and he’d better get his butt in gear.

Warner approached the ticket window by the door. “I’m a guest of Clara Keller. Warner Wright.”

The woman nodded and an enormous smile formed on her mouth. “Oh, good. You’re here. She’s been up here four times to see if you’d picked up your ticket.”

His jaw tensed. He forced a smile and headed toward the theater. He’d more than likely stressed her out just by thinking he may not show. Patty was right, her reviews were going to be bad if her head wasn’t in the game and it would be all his fault.

The usher walked him to the front row. He’d been right. Right in the middle of the front row, which was occupied by her entire family and some of the second row as well, was an empty seat.

It looked like he’d be spending his evening between Ed and her mother. Certainly it wouldn’t look good if he threw up right there, center stage, since his nerves were shot.

Everyone stood and let him through. Each of them said hello to him, by name and shook his hand. Darcy was, perhaps, the sincerest yet.

Ed’s handshake was a bit firm. “I thought maybe you forgot.”

“No. No. Just got tied up.” He tried to smile as he said it.

Clara’s father stuck his hand out and in front of her mother to shake his hand. “Good to see you, Warner.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said as he shook his hand.

“Carlos. I appreciate the manners, but call me Carlos.”

“Yes, sir.” Hell, he couldn’t help himself. At least Carlos smiled.

Clara’s mother, Madeline, pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you again. Clara hasn’t stopped talking about you all week.”

She sat down and Warner followed as the lights dimmed.

The first notes of the overture began to play from beneath the stage in front of him. That chill that he got when he was about to see any kind of live performance, washed over him.

He got his first glimpse of the man who would steal Clara’s heart—Maria, he corrected himself—and prepared himself.

It seemed like forever before the curtain opened on the third scene and there was the woman who held his heart. She stood in a white dress, her hair much longer and darker than usual. A chuckle wanted to surface when her Tennessee accent had been converted.

His eyes were locked on her and she was fully into character. Her entire family was within feet of her, yet she focused beyond them all. She was Maria.

Soon Maria met Tony and sparks flew. Even Warner was hopeful for them. But eventually they were in each other’s arms and their eyes gazed into the other’s. His own heart began to beat faster. When Maria kissed Tony for the first time, Warner was much too aware that it was Clara kissing that man.

His palms sweated against the pant legs on his thighs and his muscles tensed. There was chemistry between them and everyone in that audience felt it. Couldn’t they get to the point where they all died—quickly?

What if she liked kissing that man? What if she’d kissed him often, off stage?

It was all too much and it swam in his head as if he were drunk. She’d known that man much longer than she’d known him. If sparks were going to fly between them they would have. It was him she’d asked to sleep in her bed, whom she’d made love too, and who had just moved into her house and left one hell of a mess in his wake.

When the curtains finally closed and the lights came up for intermission, Warner took inventory of how he looked and how he felt.

He’d been very conscious that Carlos had had his eyes on him the whole time. But it was Madeline’s kind smile that met his eyes first.

“Isn’t she amazing? Just amazing?”

“Yes. She really is.” He meant it too. Clara Keller was full of talent.

“You should have seen her here the first night they opened with Annie, after they rebuilt.” Madeline placed her hand on her chest and batted her eyes which had grown moist. “Oh, just thinking about it still gets me misty.”

The thought of a young Clara with a red curly wig made him smile. Acting was different than performing music. Clara had to step aside from her life and create another, even for a few hours. He could take his trusty guitar up on stage and play as though it were giving him the breath he breathed. But not once did it mean he had to kiss a woman on stage and pretend he liked it.

That image was going to stick with him and he needed to let it go. What good was a jealous boyfriend when you had the career first? Yeah, he knew what that meant. It meant he’d be kicked to the curb and she’d still be kissing men who for a few hours she called Tony.

Warner excused himself and headed out to the lobby. Christian gave him a wave from across the room and he nodded in return. There was a small bar in the corner and Warner thought he certainly could use a drink. But would that look bad? What would her family think of that?

“Hey, Warner, what can I get ya?”

He looked up to see Ed and Darcy smiling back at him. To Ed’s side was one of her uncles—he fished for a name—Curtis. He was married to the French aunt. It was all coming back to him very quickly.

Warner walked toward them. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” He thought then it wouldn’t seem too strange.

“Another Bud,” Ed said to the bartender.

“So what do you think of the show?” Curtis asked as the bartender handed him a bottle of beer.