“You’re more important,” Mateo said, squeezing her hand.

“Well, that’s utter nonsense,” she grumbled.

Archer laughed. “Glad to see you’re back to your old self.”

Archer texted Betty on the drive back to let her know Eileen was okay, and Betty assured him that the show had gone well. Not as good as if you two had been here. But good!

Did Breckon Galloway like it? Archer asked.

I think so. He was talking with
Stewart after.

That’s great!

Drive safe. Come by the cabin when
you get back!

By the time they parked and found Mrs. C to return her keys, it was almost ten. But instead of the cabin, their feet took them toward the theater, sitting dark and silent in the still night.

“I can’t believe we missed it,” Archer sighed. After everything that had happened on that stage over the summer, the realization that he would never dance there again left a hollow ache in his chest.

“Yeah.” Mateo studied the old building, then turned to look at Archer. “You want to do it now?”

“What?”

“Come on.” He pulled Archer down the hill.

They giggled as they tiptoed in, grasping for a light switch.

“Should we change?” Archer whispered, for some reason reluctant to disturb the silence.

“Nah.” Mateo led him up the stairs to the stage and kicked his flip-flops off, then tossed his shirt. “Gimme a second to get the music ready.”

Archer similarly stripped down to his shorts.

Mateo turned on a single stage light, then the music began, quieter than normal, just loud enough for them to hear. It was not the same pas de deux they had performed thirty times before this summer. It was a little looser, more dreamlike, their smiles and lines gentle in the white light. When it was over, they hugged, breathing in the stage together one last time.

“That was beautiful.” The voice came out of the shadows.

Archer whirled. A man with a vaguely familiar face was making his way down the aisle of the theater.

That’s not—

“Breckon Galloway,” the man said, stopping below them. “Nice to meet you, Archer, Mateo. My niece has been telling me all about you two all summer.”

Archer’s jaw dropped. “W—Your niece?”

Breckon turned to wave at somebody who was lurking at the back in the shadows. The shadow began moving toward them. A blond shadow.

“Betty?”

Betty waved sheepishly. “Hi.”

Archer and Mateo shared a confounded look, then Archer turned back to Betty. “This is your uncle?”

“Yep.”

“Why—why didn’t you tell us?”

“Oh, you know, the old cliché. Wanted to make it on my own, et cetera.”

Archer’s jaw hung open for a second before a question occurred to him. “How did you know we’d be here?”

“I had a feeling. Plus, Breckon saw you go in and texted me.”

Archer turned his attention to Breckon. “We’re sorry we missed the finale, our friend—”