We were pretty quiet for the rest of the drive, and still quiet as we walked up to the Epstein Theatre, its warmly lit windows brightening up the downtown street. It wasn’t until we stepped into the crowded lobby, with its vintage hanging lightbulbs and terrazzo floor, that some of my Jude nerves faded away. I felt the energy of the people around me, dressed up and buzzing with excitement over what they were about to see.

I led Jude up the flight of stairs to the mezzanine entrance, and when we walked inside the theater, I almost gasped. No matter how familiar the red velvet curtain and the golden lighting fixtures were, they always took my breath away.

“This place is amazing,” Jude said, looking up at the ceiling and down at the seats.

I smiled and pointed to the orchestra pit. “A few years ago, there was a conductor who sweat so much, he wore a towel around his neck all the time.”

Jude laughed. “No way. Like a boxer?”

“Yup.” I glanced up and pointed to the left balcony box. “And that’s where Colleen and I would hide out and eat cheese during rehearsals.” I was breathing easier now, finding my words again.

Jude pretended to be shocked. “I didn’t know I was coming here with a cheese fiend.”

The lights flickered, signaling the show was about to start, so we got programs, and I took Jude to our seats. They were the best ones—first row mezzanine, so we’d be high enough to see the formations of the Wilis and close enough to see the details.

The lights went down and I placed the roses under my seat as the dramatic overture swelled. The curtains parted to reveal a quaint village scene, with peasant girls miming and dancing. They all looked so lovely, each movement full of purpose and grace. A strong wave of that bittersweet feeling washed over me. I didn’t notice that my hand was clenching the program until Jude reached over and rested his fingers on mine. My heart almost stopped. I loosened my grip and let the familiar weight of his hand settle into my palm, warm and reassuring and wonderful.

I knew it was just a kind gesture. Jude was full of those, so I tried to squash the stupid hope building inside me and focus on Giselle making her entrance. It was Juliet tonight, and she danced with an innocent recklessness that fit the part well. After the peasant waltz, everyone started clapping, and Jude took his hand away so he could clap, too. He looked at me with slightly raised eyebrows, silently asking if I was okay. I smiled as confidently as I could, and as the music started up again, he settled his hands back into his lap. So that was that.