Page 8 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)

WILLA

J ay Callahan’s resting expression switched into a natural smile when Willa and Sahar walked into Amanda’s Coffee the next morning. Almost every cast member had been coming here for months now, which meant most of the staff recognized them.

“Sahar, Willa, morning,” he said.

“It’d be a better morning if we weren’t so knackered. How’s it been today?” Sahar asked.

His communication softened even more. “Eh, fine so far. Nothing too irritating yet. The usual?”

“Yes, please,” Sahar confirmed.

Willa looked up from the pastries she’d been eyeing.

She watched Jay’s countenance as Sahar paid for her drink and everything bagel.

There was something distinct about it she couldn’t place, and as she thought on it further, it was fascinating how he always said Sahar’s name before Willa’s.

It was also riveting to suddenly recall that he didn’t smile as much on the rare occasions when Sahar wasn’t with her.

Perhaps it was because Willa would never start conversations with him the way Sahar did. Maybe it was the similarities they had. Regardle ss, taking note of it today was an intriguing distraction from her own anxieties.

She approached the register next. “Add a guava cheese strudel and a plain iced Americano to my order, please.”

“You’re getting Ethan’s coffee, too?” Sahar asked.

Willa consented with a nod. She had texted him this morning saying she would, wanting to go back to their routine of sorts—break the metaphorical ice she’d piled up herself.

“You got it,” Jay confirmed.

Willa tapped her phone against the pin pad, tuning herself out of the conversation Sahar and Jay resumed over some new game.

Dahlia, the other barista on shift, handed Willa Ethan’s drink first. Then, she called out for her iced Americano with Irish cream syrup and a splash of oat milk, along with the pastry in a brown paper bag.

“Thank you, thank you,” Willa acknowledged, stepping aside while they waited for Sahar’s drink, which Jay was making himself while they talked.

She placed the pastry carefully inside her backpack, freeing her hands to carry the two liquid lifelines.

A slew of six people came into the shop at once, the sounds of their chattering bringing Sahar and Jay’s conversation to a stop. They seemed to take a beat as they stood back to look at the menu. Dahlia moved to the register and another barista came out from the back.

Jay handed Sahar her drink and some type of note on a purple Post-it before heading to the register.

It was a good thing for them that Amanda’s Coffee wasn’t as crowded as the Starbucks down the block. Or even Tom’s Bagels across the street. It made it easier for them during busy days.

“What’s that?” Willa asked curiously.

Sahar folded the Post-it note in half and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans .

“It’s a new game code. His mate was part of the developing team, so he had a few extras to give out.”

“Nice!” Willa remarked.

After signing in, Willa beelined straight toward Ethan’s dressing room, noticing the door slightly ajar. She knocked lightly.

“Come in.”

She pushed it open, finding him seated on the sofa, looking up from his Switch. She strode inside and handed him his order. “Your coffee, sir. How’s your head?”

Ethan smiled, popping out the straw by tapping it against his thigh muscle. Willa’s eyes trailed toward his forearm, marveling at how it flexed with the motion. “Better. Thanks again for the drink. How are you?”

“Only slightly hungover but fully functioning, thankfully.”

“Did you guys drink a lot?” he questioned.

“I sort of did.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sort of? Bummed I missed it. Sounds like a good time.”

“Ha! It wasn’t…trust me.”

She wasn’t about to explain that the drinking occurred because she was sad about wanting him. Nope . Ethan didn’t say another word, studying her for a beat too long, which brought those peculiar feelings back to the surface.

She turned to walk away, but his fingers circled her wrist, signaling her to halt. She looked back at him, eyes flicking to where he held her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

No. No, she wasn’t.

“Yeah. Just a little stressed and anxious. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He tipped his head to the side with a knowing gaze. “You sure? ”

She crossed her heart with the hand that held her coffee cup, hoping the gesture would suffice for the words she couldn’t say aloud. She was indeed stressed and anxious—none of that was new. She didn’t need to disclose the parts about his contribution.

His understanding smile.

His comforting hugs.

His careful attention to everything she did.

The probability of something more lurking beneath his kindness and thoughtful gestures was not something she should have been reading into.

It had been easier to share her anxieties when her feelings for him hadn’t been the reason. It was easier to share secrets when she wasn’t hoping that one day she could see the vault he stored his in.

Something in his eyes said he wasn’t buying her wordless promise, but he’d have to. With a courteous look, he released his fingers and moved aside for her to sit.

“Full-on dress rehearsal, remember? I need to get prepped with hair and makeup.”

His lips curved into a straight, almost sad line. “Right, yeah. See you out there then.”

She needed to get her shit together because whether Ethan felt it or not, she was sure she was making things awkward. She could feel the cold intensifying. She wasn't melting the glaciers, she was creating icebergs along their path.

She sauntered toward the dressing room she shared with Sahar, finding Miles there as well. “Good, you’re here. I need to catch you two up.”

Willa placed her coffee on the vanity and squealed. “Go on then.”

“We went back to his place and talked until three in the morning before things escalated, and we’re meeting tonight after rehearsals for dinner if I’m not too tired.

I’m pretty sure he’s the one, and I don ’t even care if it’s too early to tell.

I’ve legit never experienced something like this with a man before.

I told him things last night that people who’ve known me my whole life don’t know, and he opened up a bunch, too. ”

Sahar and Willa glanced at each other in unison before looking back at Miles, luminous expressions flashing in their eyes.

Sahar bounced out of her seat and pulled him into a bear hug.

“Mate, this is everything you deserve and more. I need this to work out more than I need my own relationship to,” she proclaimed.

“Listen, this whole concept of two people disappearing into each other in a room full of people has always sounded a bit far-fetched, but I watched you two all night, and I was entranced. Pretty sure I’ve planned out your whole future,” Willa added.

Miles grinned from ear to ear, radiating in a way that appeared to be ethereal. This must’ve been what her brother felt when he met Anna, claiming he knew from their first date that he would be marrying her.

It was harder for Willa to picture what that was like, but it was a lovely detail to cling to, an idea that two people could be so entwined with invisible strings that they’d know they belonged together from their initial meeting. She hoped with everything in her that it would be true for Miles.

She also hoped, needed , to get her mind off all this—love, companionship, Ethan—all of it. When Miles left, Willa opened her phone to the dance playlist she had curated for getting ready. The first song, “I Don’t Want to Talk (I Just Want to Dance)” by the Glass Animals, did the job pristinely.

She started pinning her hair back to put it in the first wig, a snappy high bun with braids and a fringe. It was one of the more exciting ones, as it was the only time she could pull off the style without getting tired of it when her hair grew out.

She bopped her head and mouthed the lyrics .

Sahar dragged her feet behind her, dancing to the song instead of getting ready. “You’re trying to distract yourself, right? That’s what we’re doing here?” she asked.

“Distract myself? From what?” Willa smirked.

Sahar arched an eyebrow. “It’s working that well, is it?”

Willa rolled her shoulders rhythmically. “As the song title says, ‘I don’t wanna talk.’”

“Noted. But can we talk about how this is the first time we’re going to dance in the new costumes? I feel so giddy I could run a marathon.”

“I know! ” Willa emphasized, flicking her eyes to the new bejeweled leotards in their wardrobe.

The base was a gorgeous hue of burgundy, but the crystals were different shades of bright reds, big and small, glistening in the light.

It featured a plunging neckline and two cuts near the ribcage.

Most of their costumes, Willa’s ensemble getups especially, were on the sultrier side.

Still, this was the most stunning, right next to Elizabeth’s final outfit: a shimmering gold dress that stood out like it had been stitched by goddesses in the skies of Mount Olympus.

Despite being the understudy, Willa would likely not go on as Elizabeth during their run. She’d love to, though, if only to have a chance to dance in that dress. And, all feelings aside, sharing the stage with Ethan wouldn’t be a chore either.

Willa turned back to the mirror, itching to get up and start already. It was astounding how the prospect of performing could vanquish everything else in this world.

When she was on the stage, no anxious thought had its clasp on her—no distraction, only an unsurpassed form of escapism she was immeasurably thankful for. This was one of their last few dress rehearsal before previews started, and she couldn’t wait to do this eight times a week .

The lights began to dim, and the pre-show music started its slow ascent to a thumping cadence—the sound matching a slow, eager heartbeat. Naomi and Sahar made their way onto the stage, walking through a feigned misty morning.

“No one can see us here, Lizzie. Father and mother would disapprove if they knew where we were,” Jane said.

A large blast struck from the orchestra, and the curtains moved from left to right, signaling the doors of Pemberley as opened .

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Sam as Bingley began.

“ Here, the gentile society is of no concern to us—here, the rules of society are meant to bend.” He moved aside, and the ensemble made its way onto the stage, Josie Singh’s sensational choreography pushing them through an introduction that Broadway critics raved about during tryouts.

Willa and Innila stepped forward to greet the two women, helping them out of their country ensemble and into the bejeweled leotards. “Let yourself be free, ladies. You’ll find that life is more pleasant with a little less fabric and a lot more skin,” Willa declared.

For this number, though all the women wore the same costume, different pieces like a garter or a hat and hairstyles would differentiate them from one another.

A begrudging Darcy was then pulled out from the wings by Bingley to introduce his hideaway of iniquity: a place for no skin trade unless, of course, it was consensual—in the forbidden corridors only.

Willa kicked her foot up before lowering to a split, her dance partner in the number, Miles, coming up behind her to drag her swiftly through the floor, back up, then in between his legs.

How Josie combined classic waltz movements and contemporary steps was a brilliance Willa still couldn’t fathom, and she’d been dancing her entire life.

It was quiet, then loud, and artificial smoke started to rise, signaling the tran sition from “Doors Open” to “Bennet Sisters’ Interviews.”

Dress rehearsals went almost seamlessly, a miracle they hadn’t achieved yet, which put everyone in the cast in a great mood.

They even finished in time for Miles to get dinner with the bar-boy-maybe-the-one Clyde.

Willa walked out of her dressing room to Ethan, who’d been waiting nearby, leaning against the wall.

She stopped in front of him, a little too close for comfort but not as hot and bothered, the adrenaline from the rehearsals still coursing through her. “Are we still on for Peaky Blinders and Chinese?”

“Fuck yeah,” he confirmed.