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She beams at me, then explains the surprise for the day—to record a version of Shakespeare’sTwelfth Night.It’s one of her bucket list items, and Taylor has an upcoming ballet performance based on the play. It’s random, but that’s expected of her. Alexis flies by the seat of her pants and we love her for it.

Usually.

But something about this one makes me uneasy.

“I’m more of a behind-the-scenes type—fetching water, giving high fives, handing out tissues.” I eye the makeshift stage dubiously. “So, I’ll be standing over here cheering you guys on.”

Mia would’ve loved this. If she were here, she’d volunteer to go first. She’d create costumes out of tablecloths and use wine for blood or water for tears. I’d follow her with tissues, blotting her faux-blood and tears, righting props she’d chuck in a moment of passion.

“Hell no.” Taylor shakes her head as she ambles over. “If I’m suffering through this, you’re goingdown with me.”

As luck would have it, after a competitive session of rock, paper, scissors, I have to go first.

Huffing a breath, I grab a stack of scene cards containing the modern English translations of the original play from Alexis and hand one to Taylor.

“Act Two, Scene Four. Viola is traveling with her twin brother, Sebastian, and after a shipwreck, she thought he died. To protect herself, she pretends to be a man named Cesario and begins working for Duke Orsino,” Taylor intones with the enthusiasm of a man about to meet the guillotine.

“Gee, you’re inspiring my creative juices, Tay.” I snort.

“Fuck you. In ballet, I don’t have to talk, okay? I just dance.” She sticks her tongue out. Taylor is a principal ballerina in the top ballet company in the country. Not that you can tell with her incessant cursing, dark makeup, and nose piercings she calls her mood rings.

“Is there a Razzie award for the worst theatrical performance? We can definitely win one.” Heat crawls up my face. I hate being in the center of attention.

“Suddenly, she’s all jokes and smiles.”

“Enough chitchat. Read!” Alexis shouts in a…megaphone?

I take over reading. “Viola falls in love with Orsino, who thinks she’s a guy. Cue shenanigans.”

We get into our positions, and I wince as the spotlight hits my face. I want to flee, to go back to the safety of my office and analyze other people’s problems, to help others. Save lives.

But I sneak a glance at Alexis, finding her bright eyed and excited. I don’t want to be a buzzkill and disappoint her by not participating.

It’s just a play, damn it. Recite a few lines and it’ll be done before I know it.

The cameraman makes a hand motion, and Alexis tells us to begin.

“My dad had a daughter once, and she fell in love with someone. Desperately. If I were a woman, maybe I’d fall in love with someone like you,” I murmur, gripping the scene card tightly.

Love isn’t for me. Frankly, I’m afraid of it—of being blinded by an emotion that drives people to do stupid things. I don’t think my heart has skipped a beat for any man.

An image of Rex at the club flashes through my mind. The raw sexuality in his gaze, the way his fingers grazed down his rippling torso, all the while looking like he was pissed at me or wanted to devour me alive.

The unwanted pulsing between my legs.

No. That’s just the environment. Lust maybe. Nothing more.

I can’t afford to be blind again, especially in my profession. Lives are at stake.

But I know what it’s like to pretend, like Viola is doing in this scene—masquerading as a man to the person she loves.

“What happened to your sister?” Taylor asks, pitching her voice low, clearly getting into her role as the duke.

“I…never found out.” Dizziness swamps me. The old ache flares in my chest.

I never got my answers either. Mia didn’t leave them for me. There were only riddles, questions, clues.

No closure.