Back to Me (Book Three ✓)

fifty

EMMA

six years later

The backstage area is crowded. Other parents zip to and fro, carrying instrument cases, making small outfit adjustments and murmuring words of encouragement to their children, all who seem either incredibly nervous like Maggie, or the complete opposite: blissfully and obliviously carefree.

Instructors, all in elegant, black attire, make their rounds, fussing over hair and mussed bow ties.

Getting to my knees on the unforgiving concrete floor, I grip Maggie's little shoulders firmly, partly to show her support but also to steady myself, and give her the most reassuring smile that I have.

"What're you nervous about, baby? You'll be great - better than great. Just like you practiced, right?" I try to hide the pleading tone in my voice.

If I'm calm, she'll be calm. If I seem stressed, if I let it show that my nerves are fried - after driving halfway here to realize Beau and I forgot to grab her celebratory flowers for afterwards, stopping at a florist and nearly clearing the place out without Maggie noticing, and then almost arriving to her recital late - if I let even the tiniest hint of stress show, then Maggie's breakdown is inevitable.

If I can just keep it tucked away for a few more minutes, we'll be golden.

But Maggie crosses her arms over her chest, a frown forming on her lips as deep creases crinkle her forehead.

If it wasn't such a bad time, it'd be funny: I only know one other person who can sulk so effectively.

Still, she looks so different with the stage makeup. Older somehow. Still my baby, but not.

And it sure does amplify the scowl her little face has twisted itself into. Staring back at me, Maggie's cheeks get red, her lips puckering, chin quivering, and I remind myself to breathe and stay patient.

Now is not the time for a tantrum. If I stay calm, she'll stay calm.

"Hey," I lift her face to mine in the dimly lit backstage area, the sounds of everyone getting ready finally beginning to die down. "Look at me, Maggie. It's okay to be a little scared, but you're the bravest girl I know. If there's anyone who can handle it, it's you. And you love to play, you'll have so much fun out there, I bet you won't even want to get off stage when you're done."

Her eyes, the same shade as Beau's and similarly rimmed by his dark lashes, are begging before she even opens her mouth.

"Can you get Daddy? Please?"

"Daddy's busy, baby." I peer around the thick, navy curtain and spot Beau easily, a full head, hair now a bit more styled although still pretty wild, above most of the other parents. "He's saving a seat for your Uncle Parker."

"Please?" Maggie crosses her arms over her chest, careful not to let her tiny violin, or it's delicate bow, touch the floor. Despite my irritation at her familiar stubbornness, I can't help but be proud. Then her lip trembles, "I want Dad."

Noticing the wetness gathering in her eyes, I give in. Some battles aren't worth fighting. Not when you know you don't have a chance at winning.

I stand and dial Beau's phone quickly, grinning down at Maggie in her pretty, purple dress. Nadine braided her hair, wrapped it in a bun atop her head and spritzed it with sparkles, special for this evening. She's in the crowd too, along with David, Gemma and Connor, and Adam. Uncle Parker is the only one late.