Page 40 of Hale Yeah, It’s You

ROMEO AND JULIET – PINEWOOD HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN PRODUCTION – OPENING NIGHT

The auditorium is packed, a low hum of anticipation crackling beneath the quiet. Stage lights cast a dreamy glow, catching in the dust floating through the air like tiny gold flecks. I nudge Mom’s elbow as the final scene begins, cutting off her whisper about Alayna’s hair mid-sentence.

“Shh, Mom, it’s the finale.”

Spotlights snap into place, locking onto Alayna and Derek as they take center stage.

The set is transformed into a candlelit tomb—arched stones, ivy-painted walls, and enough eerie gloom to transport us into Shakespeare’s world.

I hadn’t seen the final set with the art department’s finishing touches.

The students insisted on handling it themselves, earning the right to bring their vision to life without me hovering.

Watching it now, I couldn’t be prouder .

You can hear a pin drop. Even the creak of an old seat or a quiet cough seems like a violation of the moment.

I steal a glance at Alayna, then at Roman across the aisle with the rest of the faculty.

His expression is still, but I can tell he’s tracking every movement his students make.

Or maybe he’s remembering the way we used to look at each other, because I swear, the way Derek gazes at Alayna right now—it’s the same look Roman gave me once, long before life got in the way.

"O, happy dagger—this is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die.” With a slow collapse, Alayna falls over Derek’s body, the trick dagger still clutched in her hand. A collective gasp swells and breaks, and then, silence. My vision blurs with tears.

Sarah leans in, resting her head against mine. “Your niece is amazing. I think I hear Hollywood calling.”

“She really is,” I whisper, my throat tight.

So is my best friend. Her next art show is weeks away, and I already know the world’s about to notice her the way I’ve always seen her. Bright. Brilliant. Brave.

As the lights fade up and the cast take their bows, thunderous applause shakes the room.

Around me, friends, family, neighbors— they’re all gathered to celebrate these kids.

I reach down for the bouquet I stashed under my seat, and Mom and Sarah do the same, our flowers crinkling in their plastic sleeves.

Before we can stand, Mrs. Betty strides onto the stage, microphone in hand.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she begins, her voice warm and bright. “Thank you for joining us tonight for the Pinewood High freshman production of Romeo and Juliet. Our cast and crew worked tirelessly to bring you this show, and I think you’ll agree—it paid off.”

The crowd erupts again, and I glance toward the stage, ready to dash up and find Alayna. But Betty keeps talking .

“If I could borrow one more moment of your time,” she says, smiling knowingly, “there’s someone else we’d like to thank tonight.”

I freeze. The stagehands emerge with a long, rolled banner. The cast lines up, giggling, hiding the message from the audience.

My stomach flips.

“As you all know, the arts don’t always get the funding they deserve—especially in small towns like ours. But we’ve been lucky. Lucky to have a neighbor who gave not only her money, but her time, her tools, and her heart.”

Sarah squeezes my hand, and I feel her lean in before she shoves me upward. “Stand up,” she whispers, smirking.

Betty beams at me. “Ms. Frankie Hale, would you please stand?”

The spotlight swings into the audience, catching me like a deer in headlights. I squint through the glare, face flaming, heart thundering.

“This show wouldn’t exist without her,” Betty says. “Thank you, from all of us.”

The cast turns the banner around.

WE LOVE YOU, FRANKIE!

The kids shout in unison, “We love you, Frankie!”

I drop the bouquet into Sarah’s lap, pressing both palms over my heart. “I love you!” I shout back, my voice cracking with emotion. Around me, people rise to their feet. The clapping goes on and on. Tears stream down my face. Gratitude cracks open inside me like sunlight through a window.

Sarah’s arm slides around my waist, and Mom pulls me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Frankie,” she whispers.

I look down the row—Clay gives me a nod from beside Dad. A small but sincere smile. We’re doing better. We’re rebuilding. When he asked for advice about Alayna and Derek last week, it had felt like a new beginning. Two blocks away or not, he still lets me be a part of her story.

And Roman—he’s just stepped onto the stage beside Mrs. Betty. Calm, steady, already in principal mode. But when his eyes meet mine, there’s a softness that no job title can hide.

He thanks the crowd again, then releases us to go hug our kids and take a thousand blurry pictures in the lobby.

I tug Sarah up by the hand. “Alright,” I say, grinning through the tears. “Let’s go congratulate our girl.”

And just like that, I step into the wings of my own second act—surrounded by love, laughter, sawdust, and fresh beginnings.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“That last video you did, the one where you showed everyone how to remove wallpaper? It got over two million views in six hours, Frankie. You’re becoming a household name.” Sarah beams at me from across the table, her eyes alight with pride.

My favorite food truck has finally graduated into a full-blown restaurant, and Roman and I have been coming here so often, Sarah insisted I bring her here instead of our usual bar for this month’s girls’ night.

We’re tucked in a booth near the back—her choice, so she could people-watch for artistic inspiration.

The smell of grilled beef and garlic aioli lingers in the air, same as it did that first night Roman and I sat across from each other at the crowded picnic table in the post office parking lot. This place grew up, just like we did.

Tonight, I’m wearing a soft white sundress Sarah “suggested” I put on earlier today.

It hugs all the right curves and flares out enough to make me feel like I'm floating. The fabric kisses my skin with every movement, and for once, I don’t tug at the hem or second-guess the way I look.

I feel beautiful. Not just because of the dress or the effort—but because I’m loved.

And when love is real, it roots you. Makes you glow from the inside out.

“Roman was starting to think I’d never remove that horse wallpaper,” I laugh. “I had to put the poor guy out of his misery.”

“Misery?” Sarah rolls her eyes, I swear her outfit gives her a new level of sass.

The red dress she’s wearing is probably a little too hot for this casual spot, but she’s a walking flame, and she knows it.

“He’s the happiest man on the planet. He snagged my bestie—boy better remember how lucky he is, or I’ll remind him. ”

“I think he knows.” Most days, I feel like I’m the one who hit the jackpot. My chest swells with the thought. We’re happy, and not in a fairytale way, but in the real, quiet kind of way that’s earned—and we can finally trust that this love is here to stay.

After weeks of bouncing between our places, Roman moved into my rental full-time while his house undergoes what we now jokingly call “the world’s slowest renovation.

” We didn’t like spending nights apart anyway.

The theater class still lets me drop in, and I take every opportunity to watch him in his element.

The kids adore him. It makes me proud in ways I didn’t know I could be.

Even Alayna has adjusted better than I could’ve imagined.

She and Roman now share a deep bond built on movie trivia and mutual respect, complete with strict no-nonsense rules during school hours.

Clay took a bit longer to come around, but I understood.

Two weeks ago, he finally invited Roman to join us for Sunday dinner.

We met at Jake’s instead of his house, and I had to fight off tears the whole night as we laughed and ate like the family we are still learning how to be.

It’s not perfect. But it’s ours.

“How many followers do you have now?” Sarah asks, sipping her mojito.

The Hale Yeah, You Can DIY channel—and all the related socials—have exploded. “Over six million across all platforms,” I say with a grin. “Which is wild, considering most of those people have now seen me turn bright red while explaining how to snake a toilet.”

“And your dad’s antics? Iconic,” she adds, laughing. “That video where he trips over the bucket and says he’s demonstrating why safety matters? I nearly cried.”

Things took off fast. Brands reached out.

Videos went viral. We launched DIY kits with the same materials I use in my tutorials, and when orders got overwhelming, I hired six more people—both for fulfillment and for the growing in-person class demand.

Hale Hardware is officially on the map. And Dad? He’s never looked prouder.

The restaurant is buzzing around us, but we still haven’t ordered. “Where’s our waiter?” I murmur. “I swear I’ve never waited this long.”

Sarah shrugs. “I’m not in a rush. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Okay, don’t fall in,” I tease, nodding toward her empty glass.

“If I do, you can always snake the toilet and fish me out,” she says with a wink, tapping my shoulder as she passes.

I chuckle and take a sip of my drink, the condensation cool against my fingers. A second later, a hand lands on my shoulder again.

“Wow, did you even wash your hand—”

“Should I have?” Roman’s voice cuts in, low and familiar.

I turn—and everything inside me stills .

He’s in that suit. My favorite. The dark gray one that makes the green in his hazel eyes practically glow. And he’s on one knee.

Behind him stands Sarah, smiling like a cat who got into the cream.

And when I scan the restaurant, I see it—every table filled with people I love.

Alayna. Summer. Clay. Mom and Dad. Mike and Mel.

The game night girls. Mrs. Betty and Mrs. Brosnan.

Familiar faces from Pinewood High. Even Roman’s old soccer teammates.

It hits me all at once—this is it .

The nails. The sundress. The restaurant choice. It was all part of the plan; Sarah orchestrated it beautifully. My heart is a rushing, roaring thing.

I glance down at my hands—these hands that once fumbled with a hammer and swung it anyway.

The ones that pried up broken tile, built something new from the ruins.

Hands that held onto Roman as he carved our initials under the table at the hardware store: R + F 4ever.

Forever. We hadn’t dared to say the word out loud then…

But I hear it now, loud and sure.

Roman looks up at me, and suddenly, it’s just us. Him and me. The world and all its noise fades.

He takes my hand, steady despite the emotion in his eyes. His voice is low, but I feel every word settle deep in my chest.

“Frankie Hale,” he says, “I love you because you’re fierce and kind, because you always know how to fix what’s broken—even when it’s not tiles or shelves, but people.

I love the way you fight for your family, for your friends, for yourself.

I love the way you chew your lip when you want to kiss me but are trying to play it cool.

I love that you never stop trying—even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. ”

He swallows, blinking fast.

“I knew you were the one a long time ago—I just didn’t know how to hold on.

But now I do. I want to build a life with you, Frankie.

A messy, joyful, full-of-cat-hair-and-half-finished-renovations kind of life.

I want the chaos and the quiet. I want babies with your eyes and your fire.

I want Sunday dinners and rainy kisses on the back porch.

I want it all, even if it means arguing over which restaurant has the best pizza in town for the fifth time.

I want it all, as long as it’s with you. ”

He pulls out a small black box and opens it, revealing a ring I can’t even see through the haze of emotion blurring my vision.

I stare down at him, heart pounding, my breath shaky as I try to find the words that have always felt too big for me to say. But now, here, with him on one knee, it’s easy.

“I love how you put your whole heart into your job, how you treat each kid like they matter. I love watching you on the soccer field, blasting those balls like you're still in your prime. I love how you get how important Alayna and Clay are to me, and you never make me feel bad for including them in our lives. I love how you look at me like I’m the only woman you see, how you believe in me even when I can barely believe in myself. And you think I can wield a jackhammer, but you know better than to trust me with the grill. But most of all, I love the way you love me. It’s a way I never knew was possible. ”

He waits for me to finish, his dimples deep in his cheeks as he asks, “So, what do you say? Will you marry me, Frankie?”

There’s only one answer.

I drop to my knees right there with him, cheeks wet, heart full, and shout:

“Hale, yeah!”