Eight weeks later, Ethan Frome was a bona fide smash, but the play’s two month run was coming to a swift close. With only two shows left, Elise found she both mourned and celebrated its imminent end. Mourned because Ethan Frome had been her big break and she would always cherish the memory of working with Mr. Fischer, Garrett, and Maggie, from whom she’d learned so much. But she celebrated its close because her future in the New York theater scene suddenly seemed so bright and promising—she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
She had signed with Mr. Durran’s agency and he assured her that when Ethan Frome folded next week, he’d have dozens of upcoming opportunities for her to choose from. In fact, just yesterday, he’d left a message that Our Town was going to be staged at the Barrymore in September and he’d already pitched her for the part of Emily Webb. Much like the part of Mattie Silver, Emily was a beloved American character that Elise had played before and knew very well. She’d whooped and hollered when she heard the message, committing to giving the best audition possible and excited beyond belief to have the possibility of another amazing role to look forward to.
Elise wasn’t the only one with good news, either. Preston had come home last night to say that he’d been offered a conditional position at the law firm where he was interning, Mulligan & McKee. As long as he passed the New York bar when he got his results in November, the job was his, and until then, he’d be paid on the assumption that he’d already passed. Suddenly he wasn’t a student and intern anymore—he was a Junior Associate at the hippest, most in-demand legal firm for athletes in New York City.
“I was sure they’d wait to offer me something in November!” he’d said, his eyes bright and alive with excitement.
“Nah!” she said. “They know talent when they see it, Pres!”
He’d kissed her, swinging her around the living room with glee. “We’re on top of the world, sweetheart. I’m taking you out to dinner tonight!”
Grinning at him, she’d slipped out of his arms and sprinted to their bedroom to change from her lounging-around sweats into a dress.
She’d stopped working at Bistro Chèvrefeuille about two weeks ago. Preston refused to take a dime for rent and without the additional expense, her salary from Ethan Frome could tidily cover her loan payments with some leftover.
Leaving her night job had the added benefit of allowing her more time with Preston. On Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, she wasn’t home until after the show at eleven, but every other night belonged to him. Her heart belonged to him. Her body—almost all of her body—belonged to him, and every morning she woke up in his arms.
No, they hadn’t had intercourse yet, but his fingers had reverently touched every plane and valley of her body, learning about her, discovering the newness of her, teaching her how a man loved a woman as he caressed the secret depths of her sex and brought her to unimaginable pleasure. And Elise was his grateful and willing student, tentatively learning about him too, remembering a touch that made him groan softly or clench his jaw with pleasure. A feather touch below his waist that would make him roll her to her back and kiss her ruthlessly like he’d never get enough of her. And when she flexed her hips, arching them into his, he would pant into her neck, whispering how much he wanted her, how much he cared for her, how wonderful and beautiful she was.
And yet, despite their growing passion, he had never pressured her or tried to guilt her into moving faster. Sex was something she’d always imagined she’d save for her husband, for her one and only, before the eyes of God. Lapsed Mennonite or not, it was the hardest line for her to cross, and she still felt a hint of panic when she contemplated it. Even though she’d started taking birth control—just to be careful—she wasn’t quite ready yet to actually do the deed. And Preston, her patient angel, was gentle with her, careful, almost reverent with his touch, ever seeking her permission to move forward, never wanting to cross her unmarked boundaries without her consent.
She loved him for it. She loved him more every day. And though they hadn’t actually exchanged the words yet, she was sure that he loved her, too. Never having been in love before, she understood the part of Mattie Silver better than she did the day she’d taken the role. She wasn’t acting anymore. In her heart she knew the all-consuming, glorious burn of falling in love with someone for the first time. Off the stage, she was being swept away by love, and on it, she used her newfound passion to bring her character to a level of realism. In the words of one New York Times reviewer, “…rarely seen in the hallowed halls of Broadway.”