Page 33 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)

Another follow-up question was about which costume she loved the most.

Willa had walked over to the wardrobe in her dressing room.

“Look, it’s a crime to pick a favorite when our amazing designer, Marla Jennings, has created so many gems. I mean, just look at the details,” she said, gesturing toward the adorned, emerald corset. God, he loved that one on Willa.

“Tell them about the leather outfits!” He heard Sahar yell from the back. “ Sahar wants me to show you all the leather costumes we have for ‘Forbidden Corridors’ because she tragically doesn’t get to be part of this number and has no leather in her wardrobe.”

Sahar came into the frame. “ Do you guys understand how jealous I am? I begged for them to put Jane and Bingley in this number. Begged, I tell you. Solely so I can wear these.”

“You get a whole wedding dress, babe,” Willa replied.

Sahar shrugged. “ Should’ve been leather. We’re just going to have to switch out one day. Put me in the ensemble, and you go on as Jane.”

They both laughed.

“The leather is also surprisingly comfortable, too. I was initially worried that it wouldn’t be, but the inside is soft for us, so it works with the grueling choreography. It is one of my favorite costumes, but if I have to pick one, the emerald wins.”

That was the end of her videos; she likely went to get ready.

“I need a nap so bad,” Sahar announced after their bows.

Willa reached for her hand. “Go, go take one. Do you need painkillers, too?”

Sahar shook her head. “I have Midol.”

Will a turned to Ethan. “What are you doing?”

He quirked his lips to note that he had no real plans. “I was going to see what you were doing. You can come and hang out in my dressing room. We can get food delivered.”

“Sure,” she replied.

Willa had changed out of costume and returned to his room shortly after.

“I got us sandwiches from Jacob’s Deli. Extra pickles for you,” he announced from the couch.

A huge smile made its way onto her face as she sauntered over to him. “Good because this takeover is giving me an ulcer. How do people talk to their phones so often? What’s the secret I’m missing here, and how do I channel it?”

“I’d tell you if I knew.” Ethan was far worse than her in this regard, which was probably why he wasn’t ever asked to participate in the account takeovers.

He could only get on camera if someone else was holding it and conducting the flow of where the video was going, which is why Sam’s Instagram lives weren’t a drag for him.

Willa giggled, then brought her phone to his face so he could read. “There are a ton of these,” she declared, scrolling through various messages saying, where’s Ethan? Show us Ethan, please!

She held up the phone to her face, hit record, and said, “ Show number one done. I’m beat, but here’s the man of the hour, folks, Ethan’s location has been secured. I won’t let him out of my sight in case you have any burning questions for him. ”

He said hi to the camera, unable to stifle a chuckle from Willa’s tone.

She looked at him and smiled, scrolling through the feed of questions. “Oh, this person’s asking if we could go anywhere in the world right now, where would we go? Want to answer it with me? I’m sure they’d care more about your answer than mine.”

“T he question came to you. Of course they care. But sure, if you want me to,” he replied.

“Should we say anything about why we’re hanging out?”

“We’re allowed to hang out. That wouldn’t be suspicious to anyone.”

She grimaced with an expression that said yes, but… “True, but this is the internet. Gah, sorry, I’m in my head about how our feelings must now be stamped on our foreheads or something.”

She had a point. He was sure his love for her had always been on full display. He drew his hand to her knee and squeezed lightly, releasing before she propped her phone into recording position.

Willa began talking first. “ Inside of a cozy treehouse with biscuits and a blanket,” she answered.

Willa pointed the camera in his direction.

Inside the same treehouse with you, he wanted to say.

Ethan pondered for a second. “ The Cliffs of Moher, ” he said quickly, a small smile quirking on his lips as he remembered the family vacation he’d been on nearly a decade ago.

“Oh, you actually went somewhere far. My brain had a different perspective.”

He smiled. “ If we’re thinking more attainable at this moment, then on my couch with my cat.”

Willa turned to him, the camera still aimed at them both. “You know what you need to do now, right? You’ve got to give us a picture of Tulip when you get home. I demand it. It’s what the people deserve.”

She was careful not to use the word we in speaking, implying that they’d be going their separate ways. But sure, he’d oblige and post a photograph of Tulip.

His eyes darted toward her hand when she turned off her phone and placed it on the coffee table.

His own hand flexed instinctually like it needed hers.

But they couldn’t do any of that right now; he’d respect her wishes , and he’d control his impulses, however small they seemed.

It’d be too obvious if he closed his door again, with Willa inside until the next show. They had to keep this casual.

There were countless ways that evidenced how he and Willa were cut from the same cloth.

Two sides of the same coin, similar but different.

But what he admired most was her work ethic, the willingness to do whatever it took in an industry that often had its cards stacked against her.

He understood his privilege in more ways than one from the moment he had his foot in the door.

He was a white man, conventionally attractive, and somewhat good at his job.

Good ol’ imposter syndrome would never let him admit to that last one.

The reality was that there would always be a role for him, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted.

There was a space for him in the industry, even if he disappeared from social media for days and weeks without a word.

He could come back, and people would still care for him.

But women like Willa had to keep fighting to be seen, and he loathed the idea that anyone would think her ties to him diminished the work she put in.

His desperation to be with her gnawed at him consistently, but he’d do anything to shut it down, to satisfy himself with whatever she gave, even when he understood the sheer immensity of what being with her would entail.

She wouldn’t be the lucky one—it’d be him.

To walk beside a woman who loved so deeply, so fiercely.

She brought out a fire in him he didn’t know existed—an urge to push beyond his capabilities and try new things, not because she asked him to but because her passions made him curious, eager, and excited.

“Where’d you go?” she asked suddenly, drawing him away from his stupor.

He dragged himself away from the thoughts in his head and the sounds of their co-workers muffl ing to indistinct chatter. “I was thinking about everything you said, why you want to keep this quiet. I get it. I hate it, but I get it.”

She smiled with understanding. “Why do you hate it?”

“Because I want to close that door and kiss you. I want to hold your hand without anyone wondering what’s going on with us.”

She tilted her head, sadness making an appearance on her face. “If it helps, I want to do all of those things, too. It’s only for a little while. I think we can tell our friends once we’re more settled. I just want it to be us for a while.”

He nodded and rested his head against her shoulder. This wouldn’t be weird, not to anyone passing at least, holding her hand however would be another story.

She turned her head and snuck a kiss on the side of his temple. “I’ll make it up to you tonight,” she added.

Willa was in Declan’s room, recording a video with him before their evening show, answering a question about whether he had his shirt on.

“Unfortunately, Dec has his Wickham costume on right now. But Sam is best at catching him without one.”

Declan choked on a laugh. “ Nosy, nosy people,” he remarked. “ I’m going to have to start wearing a shirt and change all my ways. What’s a man got to do to get some privacy in his own dressing room?”

Willa laughed loudly, and his screen lit up with her smile. She had Elizabeth’s first wig on and makeup fully done, but she was still in her own clothes.

She walked out of the room, still holding the camera to her face.

“Let’s see who else we can go bug.”

Sam made an appearance behind her, trying to scare her but failing. Tanya came into the frame, placed a kiss on her cheek, and then strolled away. The video cut off, but another one came in where she answered about the show’s biggest prankster. She’d found Sam again.

“This guy. This one. He is the worst of them all, and by worst, I mean the absolute best. He tries to startle everyone, but he’s never gotten to me because I don’t spook easily. Poor Sahar, on the other hand…”

“Listen, I’m going to get you someday.” Sam chimed.

“Aww, mate. It’s been almost two years and you’ve still yet to. And you know what? It’s not your fault. I grew up with an older brother; absolutely nothing can phase me,” she said with a chuckle.

Sam pursed his lips and nodded in defeat. “ Yeah, okay, fair. But let it be on record that I’m the show’s best.”

“Co-signed,” Willa confirmed.

She was back in her chair, swirling around, answering a question about what she missed most in London.

“Oh, God. Everything? My entire family is there, so I miss them a ton. Good fish and chips, which you just can’t get here, no offense, Americans. It’s not the same. Yes, Target is great, but M&S is better. I miss my mum’s cooking a lot, too.”

Damn, he wished he could order stuff from M&S for her. Or maybe he could find a place with good fish and chips, but everywhere they’d gone, she’d had at least one complaint about it. One place got the fish right, but the fries—er, chips—weren’t.

Still, in her dressing room, she replied to a question asking what the first musical she ever watched was.

“Specifically on Broadway, it was Miss Saigon, but my first musical ever was Beauty and the Beast at the Piccadilly Theatre.”

She answered the next question so eagerly that his heart swelled. Someone asked what other Jane Austen production she’d like to see a different version of.

“Oooh, I want to say Persuasion because Captain Wentworth in a role like this would be aces. But it would also be so fascinating to actually see Northanger Abbey in this light. The spooky and more gothic elements could do so well with the sultriness we have here, so I’d love that.

And plus, good boy Henry Tilney growling? I’d lose my shit.”

Ethan laughed out loud. God, he loved her.

He loved her so much he didn’t know what to do with himself.