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“I know, but⁠—”

“No buts.”

Then she'd cupped my face.

And smiled.

“If you want to run lines while we're off, call me. Anytime.”

Which only made me cry harder.

Because Leandra Madoc—formerly Leandra Cantrell—is the reason I fell in love with Broadway.

She’s literally my hero.

My shero?

I don’t know, I’ll figure that out later.

Anyway, when I was a little girl, every actress looked impossible.

Perfect.

Thin.

Untouchable.

Beautiful in ways I thought I'd never be.

But Leandra?

Leandra looked like me.

She’s not a redhead.

I mean she’s curvy like me.

Plus sized.

Confident.

Beautiful.

Powerful.

And watching her onstage made me believe maybe there was room for girls like me too.

So standing there with one of my idols hugging me?

Yeah.

I cried.

A lot.

And now—now I'm walking beside Less.

His fingers intertwined with mine.