One More Time by Emily S. Morris

Author:Emily S. Morris [Morris, Emily S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2025-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LUCY

Lucy’s eyes shot open with a start. She had no idea what time it was, and only a vague notion of where she was. The room was familiar, but the bed was positioned differently to the window than what she was expecting. The weird abstract hotel art was the same, but also not. Catching a glimpse of her black T-shirt, worn and faded to buttery softness, she remembered lying on the bed with Nicky, his hand in hers.

She spotted her phone and a bottle of water sitting atop a piece of hotel stationery on the bedside table. A note there read, Had to go do a thing. If you wake up before 5, come meet me in the Scala Theater. I promise to feed you after. x, Nicky.

Lucy opened her phone and saw that it was 2:30 in the afternoon. She’d slept for hours. She texted to the group chat with Chloe and Kim to inform them that she wouldn’t make their scheduled girls-only pool and cabana time.

They both replied immediately with a string of eggplant and peach emojis.

Then, she folded up Nicky’s note, chiding her own sentimentality even as she slipped it into her bra. It was the kind of reminder she didn’t have of their first time together all those years ago. Unless you counted ‘The Breathing Room.’ (She didn’t.)

Lucy traipsed to her room in Nicky’s sweats. She showered and shaved. Exfoliated every damn thing she could reach. Applied three different lotions and mascara. She threw on her own joggers, which were a sexy/comfy combo, and topped it with an old Foo Fighters concert tee – unable to resist subtly needling Nicky about Dave Grohl just a little more.

Helpful signs led Lucy through the main part of the casino to the theater, which was down a long corridor set away from the blinking slot machines and crowds of people willingly parting with their life savings at the craps tables.

She had to try several of the hulking main theater doors by their giant-sized brass pulls before finding one unlocked, then slipped through as quietly as she could.

The theater was mostly dark, with the house lights completely dimmed. LED strips of a muted amber lined the aisles, and she could just make out several stories of box seats behind lavish Italianate arches. The proscenium and stage were lit up, and one of the best-selling, highest-grossing bands in history was on the stage making discordant, incomplete musical sounds.

The shock of it – the reality of it – made Lucy’s empty stomach drop out like she was being launched from the top of a roller coaster.

A man stepped out of the shadows to her right and approached.

‘You must be Lucy,’ he whispered. ‘I’m Jacob, one of the tour managers. Have a seat anywhere and enjoy the show. Shouldn’t be more than another hour at most.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucy whispered back.

Lucy tiptoed down the aisle, willing herself smaller and more mouse-like. She shimmied her way down a row so that she was precisely at center stage and midway into the section.

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