Page 35 of For My Finale

B lossom stood in the wings, gripping the wooden frame of the doorway as Lilah took center stage. The air in the packed hall was thick with anticipation, too many people were packed into too small a space, and the energy was electric, humming on her skin. But Blossom’s mind was elsewhere.

Lilah was breathtaking. There was no other way to put it. Even in a borrowed costume hastily adjusted to fit her frame, even with only one rushed rehearsal, she commanded the space as if she’d been born into it, as if she truly was Blanche DuBois.

The audience was hanging on her every movement, on every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. It was only this close that Blossom truly realized the magic of Lilah Paxton.

Except she couldn’t just think of Lilah the actress. She had to think about Lilah, the woman.

Lilah who had made her believe in herself in a way she never had before. Lilah who had supported her crazy dream of opening a bookshop, of turning her ideas into something real. Lilah who had made her feel seen, truly seen, for the first time.

And the Lilah that had left. Left because she thought she was protecting Blossom, whatever else she might say. The Lilah who had known how horrible her world could be and who had thought enough of her to walk away and leave just so that Blossom could have her quiet life.

It had all been so wrong, being left behind had hurt so much. Yet Blossom couldn’t deny Lilah’s motivations, that mixture of concern and anxiety. The fragility that was underneath the confident projection that Lilah hid behind.

She understood the fear because she felt it herself. Still felt it. Still didn’t really know if she could trust Lilah to stick around, to live with her fear of being vulnerable, being open, being herself.

The scene shifted, Lilah moved to the side of the stage, just off center. Her posture softened, her eyes turned distant. Blossom knew what was coming up. Blanche’s famous monologue about love and loss. And she couldn’t take her eyes off Lilah.

“I loved someone too,” Lilah began. “And the person I loved, I lost.”

Blossom’s breath caught in her throat. “He was a boy, just a boy,” she murmured under her breath, she knew these lines by heart.

But Lilah didn’t speak them.

The practiced cadence of the lines faltered and instead of continuing with Blanche’s grief, Lilah turned, eyes searching, scanning the wings until they landed on Blossom.

Blossom’s heart banged against her ribs. She forgot how to breathe.

“I loved someone too,” Lilah said again. “But I was an idiot. I was scared. I ran away from the one thing that gave my life meaning, because the thought of being myself frightened me so much.”

Blossom pressed her hand against her chest, like she could physically keep her heart from breaking through her skin right there in the wings of the stage.

Lilah took a step forward. “I thought I was protecting someone I love,” she continued, her voice clear and strong. “But I was protecting myself. Because I was scared.”

Blossom couldn’t move, couldn’t think. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not here in front of the entire village. But Lilah wasn’t done .

“I thought I was brave. I thought I was strong. But I was wrong.” Lilah’s gaze was locked on Blossom’s now, her voice shaking only slightly.

“I hate feeling vulnerable. I hate letting anyone in. But I understand now that if I want to love someone, truly love them, then I have to let them in, let everything in.”

The audience was deathly silent. There wasn’t a whisper, wasn’t a cough, just eyes watching, waiting, devouring the scene as it played out.

“Forgive me for being a coward,” Lilah said. She held out her arms.

Blossom’s vision blurred. She was vaguely aware of a hand on her back.

Ives perhaps, or Daisy. She gulped in a deep breath, felt the tears hot in her eyes.

And then Lilah was opening her arms and Blossom did the only thing she could, the only thing she wanted to do, the only possible move there was to make.

She ran onto the stage and into Lilah’s arms.

The moment she crossed the stage, the crowd gasped and then erupted into cheers.

It didn’t matter though, none of it mattered.

The only thing that did matter was Lilah, the way Lilah’s arms closed around her the second Blossom touched her, the way Lilah held on to her so tightly that Blossom thought she might never let her go.

And then Lilah kissed her.

Blossom’s universe narrowed down to the press of Lilah’s lips, the warmth of her hands, the way everything else, fear and doubt and the past, all melted away. The crowd was clapping and cheering, but it was nothing more than a distant hum in Blossom’s ears.

Lilah pulled back just enough to whisper, “I love you.”

Blossom let out a shaky breath, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you too,” she whispered back.

???

The village hall was empty, the last of the chairs stacked, the final whispers of applause fading into memory.

The air still carried the scent of dust and makeup and paint.

Lilah sat on the edge of the stage, her feet dangling just above the floor, Blossom beside her, head on her shoulder, their fingers twined together.

The warmth of Blossom’s hand in hers steadied her, grounded her. No cameras, no scripts, no expectations. Just them.

Lilah exhaled, glancing sideways at Blossom. “I owe you an apology.”

“For declaring your love for me on stage in front of literally everyone I know?” Blossom asked.

“Yes,” Lilah said, with a smile. “But also for running, for leaving, for being a coward, for making you doubt that what I felt for you was real.”

Blossom squeezed her hand. “You’re here now though.”

Lilah swallowed. She had to be honest. She had to be open.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Blossom.

I don’t know if I’ll ever act again, or if I’ll stay in this little village forever, or…

or be hit by a bus tomorrow. But I do know that I love you, and I want you to be by my side, whatever happens. ”

“There’s no bus service in the village,” Blossom said. “So you’re probably safe on that front.” She looked down. “But I know what you’re saying, I think.”

“I mean it,” said Lilah. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing something, fame, success, recognition. None of it ever felt as solid, as important, as real, as you do. But I can’t guarantee that life will always be quiet or easy. No matter how much I might want it to be.”

Blossom let out a small laugh. “Lilah, I will punch the tabloid journalists, I’ll go head to head with that agent of yours, if that’s what you need. As long as you’re right there, I don’t care.”

“Uh-huh,” Lilah chuckled. “And where is all this confidence coming from?”

“From you,” Blossom said, shifting closer so that their knees touched. “You make me believe in myself, Lilah. I don’t know how, but you do. It’s an effect that you have on me.”

Something in Lilah’s chest tightened. An ache of regret for all the time she’d wasted, for every moment that she’d let fear get in the way. She brushed her thumb against the back of Blossom’s hand. “I want to be me. And I want to be with you.”

“Good,” Blossom said. “Because I’ve wanted to be with you for as long as I can remember.”

Lilah arched an eyebrow. “So now you’re admitting to having a teenage crush complete with posters on your bedroom wall?”

“Maybe,” said Blossom. “But I do know that that wasn’t the real you. Those were pictures of the Hollywood version of you. This is the real Lilah, right here, right now.”

“And you’re sure you love the real me?” Lilah asked, anxiety biting at her.

Blossom cupped Lilah’s face, her touch gentle but sure. “Absolutely certain. Hollywood Lilah was a pain in my arse. And she frightened the sheep.”

With a laugh, Lilah leaned in, her forehead pressing against Blossom’s, taking the warmth, the closeness, the naturalness of it all. Then she closed the gap, kissing Blossom softly and slowly. It was a promise of a kiss, a beginning of something, a sigh of relief wrapped in the warmth of lips.

When they pulled apart, Blossom laughed. “You do realize that half the village now thinks that Streetcar Named Desire has a happy ending, right?”

Lilah sighed. “You’ll just have to put on another show then. But this time, without me.”

“You say that now,” said Blossom. “But I think you’ll be back. Acting’s a part of who you are, it’s in your bones. I don’t think you’ll leave it forever.”

Lilah hesitated for a moment. “Maybe,” she said eventually. “But if I do, it’ll be on my terms. No more chasing something that doesn’t exist, no more running from things that actually matter. And right now there are more important things to tend to. We have a bookshop to build.”

“Damn right we do,” Blossom laughed.

Hand in hand, they rose from the stage and stepped down into the quiet hall. They walked slowly out, locking the doors behind them, into the crisp silence of the night.

There were no words, there didn’t need to be words. Everything had been said. It was actions that mattered now. So they walked quietly home until, halfway there, Lilah could stand it no more.

Without a word, she tugged Blossom into another kiss, this one deeper, filled with the thrill that they were stepping into something real, something immense and terrifyingly wonderful.

Then, just as Lilah was thinking that the world had stopped turning and the moment could go on forever, something large and breathily damp nudged her back.

She yelped, stumbling forward. Blossom barely managed to keep her upright, dissolving into laughter as Lilah spun around to find herself nose to nose with Billy.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Lilah gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

“He just wanted to welcome you home,” Blossom giggled.

“He scared the life out of me,” Lilah huffed, glaring at the massive animal who simply blinked at her in bovine innocence. “Bloody menace.”

Blossom wrapped her arms around Lilah from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Welcome home, Lilah Paxton.”

Lilah exhaled, relaxing into Blossom’s arms, into the comfort of belonging, love, of knowing exactly where she was meant to be.

Because Blossom was home. That was all there was to it.