Beyond the Ballroom: A Collection of Shorts

by tatercates84

Summary:

From the glitz of the ballroom to quiet moments offstage, a collection of random one-shot stories based around America's favorite dancing duo, Ilona and Alan.

Notes:

I know, I know, RPF is weird, I can't help it. Anyway...

Chapter 1: Post-Show Revelations

The comfortable silence Emma was so used to was almost nonexistent as she sat in her usual spot on Alan’s couch. She was curled up, her toes tucked under his thigh, as they watched the latest episode of their favorite show together. It was a regular occurrence - her crashing at his place for the evening, eating take-out on the coffee table and watching TV - but this evening things felt different.

The show had ended almost two weeks ago and the pros were fully involved in tour rehearsals at this point, spending every day in the studio working through choreography to prepare for their first show in early January. It was the same this year as it was every year… Rehearsal all day, and then Alan and Emma heading to his place to work off any extra stress. This “situationship” they were in had been off-and-on for several years now and felt like their normal at this point. But again, this time something more was nagging at Emma and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why - or maybe she just didn’t want to.

She looked over at Alan who was absentmindedly running a gentle hand over Jeff’s tiny head, the dog curled onto his lap, but while Alan’s gaze was directed at the television, his eyes looked unfocused like he was somewhere else entirely. His mood had felt off since he returned home from Thanksgiving break with his family and Emma assumed it was just the usual adjustment back to life-after-DWTS that they all went through. But while all of her other castmates were finally feeling back to normal, Alan remained the same. It wasn’t that he was outwardly mean or anything, nothing an outsider would pick up on, but his eyes held a sadness that hadn’t been there before and his jokey attitude was replaced by a seriousness that even the other pros had started to wonder about.

“Alan?”

Emma watched his eyes come back into focus and he blinked a few times before turning to her. “Hey, what’s up?”

She cocked her head at him. “You just seemed like you were somewhere else there. Is everything OK?”

Alan nodded and forced a smile. “Everything’s fine!” he replied, his voice going up slightly with the obvious lie. “I’m just worn out.” He turned back to the TV, seemingly deciding that was the end of their interaction, and went back to petting Jeff.

Emma knew he was full of shit. She chewed at her thumbnail, studying his profile, thinking about the reason she knew he was this weird version of himself these days. The reason she’d pretended to not know for weeks now.

Ilona.

Ilona Maher had entered the Dancing with the Stars competition as a true force of nature. She wasn’t the greatest dancer, having come to the show with no dance background whatsoever, but what she lacked in dancing skill, she definitely made up for in personality and charisma. It was hard for anyone to not love Ilona within minutes of meeting her, and Emma had been no exception. After a relatively early elimination from the show, Emma spent a lot of her time with the dance pair, helping Ilona with steps or working through choreography ideas with her and Alan. Ilona was fun and the pairing of her and Alan seemed like one of the best matches the show had ever made.

With the extra free time from being eliminated, and then the extra extra free time of an untimely injury during rehearsal for a bumper, Emma was able to really sit back and observe the couple in their element. At first it was a silly partnership, one full of TikTok videos and laughing at each other and the awkward giggling of how close Ilona needed to be to Alan during their dancing. Then frequent late-night dinners were added in, Alan letting Emma know that he’d be busy and would catch up to her later. Then the early morning workout sessions came, Alan letting her know he needed to get home and get to bed because they had an early morning ahead.

She watched Ilona’s confidence soar with Alan’s choreography and her comfort grow while being pressed up against him for long hours every day. She watched him transform from a hard-ass dance coach with little empathy into someone who still taught with a firm hand, but would also huddle in a corner with Ilona, forehead to forehead, murmuring words of comfort to her when things hadn’t gone the way they wanted, assuring her that it wasn’t all her - that he needed to be a better teacher, too.

Monday lunches were spent alone in her trailer, curled up on the couch with a bag of Twizzlers from crafty and watching Ilona and Alan huddle together on her phone screen during their weekly Instagram Live sessions. Tuesdays were spent getting ready for the show and catching glimpses of them running their dances in the back lot or Ilona pulling him along by the hand as they mingled with fans. Emma listened to the hushed whispers between the pros, commenting to each other how Alan’s eyes seemed to light up every time Ilona entered the room and how they never realized how funny he was until this season. She watched Ilona’s older sister sit on the sidelines with a loving smile plastered on her face and her phone held discreetly near her lap, pointed at the younger Maher out on the ballroom floor where she was usually wrapped in the arms of her dance partner while they quietly passed words of encouragement back and forth.

It wasn’t all coming from Alan, though. Emma often noted the stolen glances she’d catch from Ilona, the rugby star’s eyes bright while she watched Alan talking or working through steps or up on stage during an opening number rehearsal. The nervous laughter she would notice in the first couple of weeks had just become comfortable laughter between the two of them. The looks of adoration during post-show interviews as Alan gushed about Ilona to Entertainment Tonight, pulling her tight against him and placing the occasional kiss to her head.

And listen, Emma wasn’t an idiot. She was 35-years-old and had been in enough relationships to know the signs. Hell, at the same time as she was sitting there watching Alan and Ilona get closer and closer, she was also watching her own ex-husband fall head-over-heels for another contestant on the show. She hadn’t seen that light in Sasha’s eyes for a few years now and she was thrilled to watch it return to the man she still called one of her best friends. It was the same light suddenly in Alan’s eyes every single day, one that she’d never really noticed directed at her despite several years of them being sort-of-together. No, that light was reserved for Ilona and only Ilona these days.

Emma closed her eyes, feeling defeated. Not only could she not let herself be the other woman, but she couldn’t watch Alan look like this forever, especially when she had her own reservations about what their future held when she was still feeling burned from her failed marriage. She was better than that. Alan deserved more than that. So she took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“I think we should maybe end this.”

Alan’s head snapped back up and he stared at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“This,” she said, waving a hand between the two of them. “I think maybe it’s time we cool it.”

“Em, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Alan reached for her hand, but she kept them both clasped together in her lap.

“Alan, we both know that I’m not ready to settle down. I’m not ready for another marriage, or for kids… maybe I’ll never be, who even knows. But I know that’s what you want, even if you don’t say it.”

“Em, I-” he started, but she held up a hand.

“Alan, I know. I see how you look at our married friends. I see how you are with their children or your nieces. I know that you might have pictured all of that with me at one point, too, but I don’t really think you do anymore, do you?”

Alan’s eyebrows shot up in either alarm or surprise, she couldn’t quite tell, and he opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand again to stop him.

“You may have pictured a future with you and me at one point, Alan, but I think the future you’re starting to picture looks different. With rugby matches and big family holidays and green-eyed, dark haired babies. And that’s OK.”

The corners of Alan’s mouth quivered and his eyes grew glossy with unshed tears. “Emma,” he finally sighed quietly in defeat, accepting that what she said was right, “I’m so sorry.”

Emma smiled sadly. Leaning forward, she pulled him into a tight embrace, closing her eyes against the thought that these hugs wouldn’t mean the same after this. She wanted to accept his apology, but she couldn’t, because she knew he didn’t do anything wrong. He’d always been her dependable, wonderful Alan and it was no different this time. She knew he would have ignored the feelings that had developed over the last few months and continued with their regular routine to avoid hurting her, because she knew he loved her. She loved him, too, but she also loved him enough to know that this wasn’t what he needed anymore.

And, yeah, it hurt. A lot. Her stomach even felt a bit queasy as they remained on the couch holding each other. But it would hurt more knowing she was the reason he stayed this sad, sullen Alan and not the happy one they’d all grown accustomed to over the last twelve weeks.

Taking in a deep breath, Emma finally pulled back from him. “You should call her.”

Alan’s eyes darted away, breaking the contact they’d held with hers. “I… we text all the time,” he replied awkwardly, not really sure how much information he was supposed to share about his feelings here while they were… what were they doing? Breaking up? They were never actually official. Is this a breakup?

Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “Are you telling her the things she needs to be told? You should call her. Like, now.” She grabbed his phone from the coffee table and sat it on his lap next to the dog.

She stood up and smoothed out her pants while looking down at him where he still sat frozen with an incredulous look on his face.

“Alan, if I did all that and you don’t even call her-” she said, her voice a little firmer this time. “Tell her how you feel. Because we’ve all watched it happen and it’s time.”

Alan stood up beside her and pulled her into another firm hug. “Thank you, Em,” he said into her hair. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She pulled back from him and gave him a friendly pat on the bicep. “Call her.” Gathering her sweater off the arm of the couch, Emma gave Alan one more small smile. “I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow?”

Alan nodded. “Of course.”

Emma walked down the front hall to the door, pausing briefly when she heard his voice.

“Lo? Hey,” she heard him say, his voice sounding a little shaky with nerves. “Do you have a minute?” He paused and she could imagine Ilona on the other end of the line, her excited voice replying. “No, no, nothing is wrong! There’s just something I really want to talk to you about-”

Emma stepped out onto the front stoop and quietly shut the door behind her, letting her body rest against the solid wood for a moment. She felt a small smile pull at her lips and touched her mouth gently with her fingertips. She really did love Alan, but more than anything, she loved Alan being happy. And if she was being honest with herself today, maybe it was time she started looking outside the dance world for dating.

Walking down the sidewalk toward her car, Emma thought about Ilona and the sports world she came from, wondering what kind of contacts she might have with the men’s rugby team. She made a mental note to ask her next time she saw her and pulled out of Alan’s driveway, heading off to start looking for her own future.

Chapter 2: Miss You More Than Rugby

“Thank you all for supporting us. Number two on Dancing with the Stars , but hopefully number one in your hearts,” Ilona said with a laugh, pointing at the camera before stopping the TikTok recording. She fiddled with her phone for a moment, the travel tripod still awkwardly attached and jutting out to the side, while Alan stood nearby, watching her with a faint smile.

“There,” she said with a small nod after publishing the video, “it’s out there for the world.” She glanced up at Alan, expecting to share a moment of lighthearted victory, but faltered when she noticed the sadness clouding his face. His red-rimmed eyes, so obvious over the last 24 hours, betrayed the emotion he hadn’t quite been able to shake. She knew it wasn’t just exhaustion—her own eyes were no better, and it wasn’t from the travel.

“Oh, Alan,” she sighed, setting the tripod down and stepping closer to pull him into a hug. “You’ve got to knock it off, dawg. I don’t know how much more crying I’ve got left in me, and when you cry, you know I cry.”

Alan let out a small huff of laughter against her hair, his arms tightening around her. “Sorry, Lo,” he mumbled. “This just—”

“Sucks?” she finished for him.

“Sucks,” he repeated with a nod.

It was hard to believe it had been only eleven weeks since she’d first walked into the dance studio to meet the man who would become her Dancing with the Stars partner. It felt both like a lifetime ago and like no time at all as they stood in the middle of the airport, preparing to go their separate ways.

Over the course of the season, they had formed an unexpected bond. The public had seen the surface—interviews, rehearsals, and social media posts—but what they hadn’t shared were the private moments that had shaped their friendship. Late-night post-rehearsal dinners on the studio floor, early-morning breakfast burritos eaten in a car to avoid being spotted, and, in the final weeks, middle-of-the-night Facetime calls. Sometimes they were about Ilona’s nerves before a show, other times Alan needed to talk through a creative idea. Always, they ended the same way: falling asleep to the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

Sure, it was disappointing not to win after all their hard work, but both of them were genuinely happy for Jenna and Joey. And runner-up wasn’t bad, considering Ilona had started with zero dance experience and no expectation of lasting past the first few weeks.

They’d just landed after a whirlwind trip from LA to New York and back for their Good Morning America appearance. While Ilona was heading home to her LA apartment and her sister Olivia, Alan was making his way to another gate, bound for Minnesota and Thanksgiving with his family.

Ilona pulled back slightly from their hug to look up at him. “You sure you want to do that whole family-and-turkey thing? Liv and I have exciting plans with a bag of frozen shrimp and some linguini on Thursday.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a smile. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, lady.” He let his hands drift down her arms, catching hers at the bottom and holding on. “My flight boards soon. Your ride is probably waiting outside.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “Yeah, I should get going,” she said, though neither of them made a move to step away. “Thank you. For everything. For putting up with me… and, you know, helping me become a dancer.”

“Shut up, ” Alan groaned, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t ‘put up’ with anything. Lo, you’re amazing, and I’m going to keep telling you that until you finally believe me. You’re phenomenal.”

Ilona smirked. “Phemenomenal?”

“Phemenomenomenal,” he teased, his laughter making her grin widen.

Alan’s phone buzzed, and he dropped one of her hands to check it. His expression fell. “My flight really is boarding,” he said softly.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled her in for one more hug. “Love you, Lo,” he murmured into her shoulder, his voice thick with emotion.

“Love you too, Al,” she replied, her voice just as soft. She gave him a final squeeze before stepping back, putting a foot of space between them. “Text me when you land so I know you’re alive?”

“Always.”

“Tell the family happy Thanksgiving for me?”

He smiled as he hoisted his duffel over his shoulder. “Of course. You know the girls are going to ask to Facetime you anyway.”

At the mention of his nieces, Ilona’s mood brightened. “Love those kids! We can definitely make that happen.”

She grabbed her own duffel, slinging it over her shoulder. Alan reached for her hand one last time, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.

“I’ll talk to you soon, OK?”

She nodded, taking a few steps back, thumping a fist against her chest, and pointing his way. “See ya, dawg,” she joked, forcing herself to turn toward the terminal exit.

Her steps were steady and purposeful, even as a tear or two escaped down her cheeks. Behind her, Alan swiped quickly at his own eyes before turning toward his gate.

 

---

 

“Well, that was probably the worst experience of my life,” Ilona declared as she stormed into her apartment, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Her sister, Olivia, barely flinched, seated cross-legged on the couch with a book propped open in her lap.

“Worse than breaking your leg last year and sitting out half the season?” Olivia replied dryly, not even bothering to look up.

Ilona flopped onto the couch beside her with a dramatic sigh, arms crossed tightly. “Definitely worse,” she muttered, her head lolling to the side to glare at her sister.

Olivia finally glanced up, her sharp gaze immediately catching the redness around Ilona’s eyes. Her face softened. “Oh, Lo. I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

Ilona hesitated, her chest tightening. She and Olivia had always been close, but in recent years—between shared secrets and Olivia managing her social media presence—their bond had deepened even more. Olivia had been around for a lot of rehearsals, often filming goofy behind-the-scenes moments to keep Ilona’s followers entertained. But lately, Ilona had kept certain moments with Alan private. She wasn’t sure why—nothing had happened that wasn’t above board—but somehow, those moments felt sacred. Just theirs.

“There’s not really much to say,” Ilona finally mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. “It’s just the show, you know? I knew what I was signing up for. I just didn’t expect to make such a great friend out of it.”

Olivia rubbed a comforting hand over Ilona’s shoulder. “You guys have gotten really close. You really like him, don’t you?”

Ilona’s head snapped up, her posture stiffening at the question. “Well, yeah, Liv, we’re friends,” she shot back, her tone sharper than intended. Even she wasn’t sure why the defensiveness rose so quickly. “Can we just watch a movie or something? I really need to forget today happened.”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the remote and queued up a cheesy rom-com, one of her go-to escapes. Olivia shrugged and returned to her book, leaving Ilona to stew in her own thoughts.

Hours later, Olivia had given up on the movie marathon and headed out to meet up with some friends, leaving Ilona alone with her second film of the night. She was curled up on the couch, blanket over her lap, when her phone dinged.

Alan: Hey, so this still sucks. Also, Jeff definitely misses you.

As she read the text, a photo popped up—a selfie of Alan holding his dog, Jeff, close to his cheek, both of them looking unbearably cute. The corners of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile, and she quickly saved the image to her phone before typing out a reply.

Ilona: My favorite guy! 😍 (and you, Alan).

Alan: Ouch! I guess he is cuter than me, so I’ll allow it. I miss you.

Ilona stared at the message, her chest tightening. She obviously missed him, too—so much it almost hurt—but how was she supposed to play this? Cool? Casual? The truth felt too big, too risky.

She typed quickly.
I miss you mor—
Nope. Too much. She deleted it.

I bet you do—
Ugh, too flippant. She backspaced again, sighing as she stared at the blinking cursor.

Alan’s typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, leaving her even more on edge. She bit her lip, fighting the rising panic. Finally, she went with the safest option.

Ilona: I miss you, too.

Almost immediately, a little heart reaction appeared next to her message. Her phone dinged again.

Alan: How much?

Ilona’s breath hitched. How much? So much. She sighed, muttering, “Too much,” under her breath as she stared at her phone. But she couldn’t say that—not out loud, not to him.

Her phone dinged again.

Alan: Well, Maher?

Ilona huffed, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she typed out a response, her pulse racing as she hit “Send.”

Ilona: Maybe even more than rugby.

The second the message sent, she tossed her phone to the other end of the couch like it had burned her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down. One beat, two beats, three beats. Cracking one eye open, she peeked at the phone. Still dark, no new messages.

Great. She’d overplayed it. He probably thought she was weird—or worse, serious. “Nice job, Ilona,” she muttered, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead.

The knock on her door startled her so badly she nearly fell off the couch.

“What the hell?” she muttered, heading for the door, her heart racing again for an entirely different reason.

Ilona trudged to the door, irritation bubbling beneath her exhaustion. This was her third emotional meltdown of the day, and the last thing she needed was to fend off a persistent door-to-door salesman. With a sharp yank, she flung the door open, armed with a polite but firm dismissal.

“Hey,” came a quiet, familiar voice.

She froze. Standing in the doorway was Alan, clutching the end of a leash attached to a tiny, frantic dog weaving figure eights around his feet.

Ilona’s mouth fell open, her hand gripping the doorknob as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. “Did you get on the wrong plane?” she sputtered, blinking rapidly to make sure her imagination hadn’t finally conjured him out of sheer longing.

Alan chuckled, the sound warm and grounding. “I gave up my seat to someone trying to get home for the holidays,” he said with an easy shrug, as if it explained everything.

“You… gave up your seat?” Ilona’s brow furrowed. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, but her mind scrambled for the logic. “Why would you do that?”

Alan shifted on his feet, the toe of his sneaker nudging the edge of her welcome mat. He looked almost boyish, a little nervous, a little unsure. “I heard someone missed me,” he murmured.

Ilona’s body moved before her brain caught up. She threw her arms around him, the weight of her emotions spilling over. Relief coursed through her as his strong arms enveloped her, pulling her tightly against him. Tears blurred her vision as she buried her face in his shoulder, the scent of him—familiar and grounding—breaking what was left of her resolve.

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughed through the tears, her voice muffled against his jacket. “What about your family?”

“I rebooked for early tomorrow,” Alan said, his voice soft and steady. He eased back just enough to look her in the eye, his gaze searching hers. “Lo, you walked into the show saying you didn’t want a ‘showmance.’”

Ilona blinked at him, unsure of where this was headed. He wasn’t wrong. Heading into Dancing with the Stars , her biggest fear had been getting caught in some contrived romance storyline. The last thing she wanted was to lose herself in a fleeting TV spectacle. When she first met Alan, she’d felt nothing but relief—he wasn’t someone she’d imagined feeling romantic about. But oh, how wrong she’d been.

“I did say that,” she admitted cautiously.

Alan’s eyes bore into hers, a quiet intensity that made her heart race. She shifted slightly in his arms, unnerved by how deeply he seemed to see her. “Al?”

“So… the show’s over now,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “And that rule doesn’t count anymore.”

Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “What are you—”

She didn’t get the chance to finish. Alan closed the space between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that sent her heart racing and silenced every lingering doubt she’d been wrestling with all day. His touch was warm, steady, and everything she hadn’t let herself fully hope for until now.

“Oh my god, finally ,” a voice screeched from nearby.

They broke apart abruptly, both turning with wide eyes to see Olivia striding toward them down the hallway, her expression a mix of smug triumph and exasperation.

When she reached them, Olivia wedged herself sideways to squeeze past the two of them, leaning dramatically against the doorframe before entering the apartment. “Seriously, guys, it’s about fuckin’ time. I gotta text Adrianna—she’s gonna lose it. ” She paused mid-step, turning slightly to raise the bags she was holding. “Oh, and I brought Thai food. Bersten, get your ass in here.”

Alan let out a low laugh, resting his forehead against Ilona’s as she tried to smother her own grin.

“Can I come in?” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing.

Ilona rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. She knew there were so many things they’d need to talk about—his early-morning flight to Minnesota, her trip to the UK the following day, her new contract, his tour—but those worries seemed distant now, inconsequential in this moment.

“Obviously,” she replied, her voice soft but sure.

Leaning up, she pressed one more quick kiss to his lips before slipping her fingers through his and tugging him gently through the doorway. The door swung shut behind them with a decisive thud, but for the first time all day, Ilona felt completely at ease.

Chapter 3: Waltzing Through Life

Notes:

Will we all drop dead from the lack of social media content from our besties over the last few days? Maybe.

Ilona turned over in her sleep, her arm instinctively reaching for the warm, solid chest that had been her constant comfort for several years now. Her fingers met only the soft folds of the blanket, and she blinked her eyes open groggily. The opposite side of the bed was empty, the faint impression of Alan’s body still visible on the mattress. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was just after 2:00AM, still hours before either of them had to be up.

Pulling on the cardigan draped over a nearby chair, Ilona padded softly down the hallway, the familiar creak of the old wooden floorboards under her feet leading her toward the nursery. As she approached, a faint sound caught her attention - Alan’s voice, soft and melodic, punctuated by the quiet shuffle of his feet.

“One, two, three… one, two, three…”

Ilona carefully pushed open the cracked door and peeked inside. Alan stood in the center of the dimly lit room, swaying gently from side to side, his bare feet moving gracefully over the plush rug as he held their newborn daughter close to his chest. He was waltzing, the subtle rhythm of his movements soothing both himself and the tiny bundle cradled in his arms.

He turned in a slow circle, his eyes catching hers in the doorway. A smile spread across his face as he extended an arm toward her.

“Hey, mama,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth.

Ilona stepped into the room, slipping under his outstretched arm as he pulled her close against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers brushing gently against Ella’s tiny hand as the baby let out a soft sigh in her sleep.

“A waltz?” Ilona murmured, her lips quirking into a smile. “Showing off for her already?”

Alan grinned, his feet still moving in gentle, sweeping steps. “I figured if I’m going to teach her, I might as well start with something timeless. You know, set the bar high early.”

“She’s six weeks old,” Ilona teased, her voice soft with affection. “You’ve got plenty of time to turn her into a ballroom prodigy.”

Alan glanced down at Ella, his expression tender. “I’m just trying to make sure she knows the basics before she starts crawling,” he said, a playful glint in his eye.

Ilona chuckled quietly, her head still resting against his shoulder. “You should have woken me up. I would’ve come in and joined you two.”

Alan paused just long enough to press a kiss to the top of her head before resuming his slow waltz. “You’ve been incredible, Lo. Between your work and taking care of Ella, I wanted you to get a little extra rest.”

Ilona shook her head, though she couldn’t hide the yawn that escaped her. Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

“See? I rest my case,” he said lightly.

She rolled her eyes but let herself melt into his embrace, her hand coming to rest over his as he cradled their daughter. The soft strains of his humming filled the room, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the three of them in their little cocoon of love and warmth.

Alan eventually stopped moving, shifting Ella slightly so he could look at Ilona. “You know, she’s lucky to have you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Ilona tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes shining. “And she’s got the most dedicated dance partner she could ever ask for,” she replied, her fingers brushing against his cheek.

Alan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m lucky, too,” he murmured. “To have you both.”

As they stood there in the quiet of the nursery, swaying gently in an unspoken rhythm, Ilona couldn’t help but reflect on how far they’d come. From their chaotic beginnings on Dancing with the Stars - filming silly TikToks between rehearsals, raiding the crafty table for snacks after late-night practices, and laughing until their sides hurt - to the moment they realized their easy camaraderie had grown into something deeper. Now, they’d built a life filled with love, laughter, and the tiny miracle sleeping soundly in Alan’s arms.

“I love you,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Alan smiled, the kind of smile that made her heart feel like it could burst. “I love you, too,” he replied, his gaze filled with the kind of promise that needed no words.

And in that moment, as they held their little girl and swayed together under the soft glow of the nightlight, it felt like they were waltzing through life itself - graceful, steady, and entirely in sync.

 

Chapter 4: A Christmas Miracle

Notes:

Please take me back to October/November, my social media is so boring now.

Snow dusted the streets of Burlington, Vermont, and the air smelled of pine and cinnamon. Ilona Maher leaned back in a well-worn armchair, her feet clad in fuzzy socks propped up on the ottoman. Her parents’ living room was warm, glowing with the soft twinkle of white Christmas lights strung around the windows and the sturdy family tree. Outside, winter’s chill bit at the world, but inside, there was nothing but comfort.

Ilona set her phone on the armrest, her lips curving into a faint smile. She had just finished texting Alan, as she had done nearly every day since Dancing with the Stars had ended a month ago.

Alan Bersten. Her dance partner. Her unexpected confidant. Her… what exactly?

Their texts had started off light—funny memes, TikTok videos to keep their streak alive, updates about his grueling tour rehearsals, jokes about how they’d survived weeks of intense dance training. But over the past few weeks, their conversations had shifted. The banter was still there, but it was peppered with a deeper kind of connection. He’d ask how she was handling her whirlwind rugby schedule, and she’d ask if he was getting enough sleep with his tour looming. The texts had become longer. The calls more frequent. And every time his name flashed on her screen, her heart fluttered in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“You’ve been smiling at that phone all afternoon,” her mom teased as she walked past with a tray of cookies. “Care to share what’s so entertaining?”

“Oh, you know me, chronically online,” Ilona lied, perhaps a little too quickly. She grabbed a cookie to distract herself.

Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Ilona turned her attention back to her phone, her thoughts drifting to Alan once more. He was in Los Angeles now, preparing to fly home to Minnesota for the holidays before tour officially started. She pictured him in his apartment, his suitcase open on the bed, a warm grin spreading across his face as he read her texts.

She shook her head, as if that would dispel the thought.

“Get it together, Maher,” she muttered under her breath.

---

In Los Angeles, Alan paced his living room, his phone clutched in his hand. The suitcase on his bed was half-packed, but his mind was far from focused on the task at hand.

He’d just finished a call with Ilona, and her voice still lingered in his mind like a favorite song.

Alan had always been good at compartmentalizing. Dancing was his life, and he was used to pouring everything into it while keeping his personal life neatly tucked away. But Ilona had shattered that. Their time on Dancing with the Stars had been transformative, not just because of the long hours of rehearsal and the adrenaline of live performances, but because of her.

She’d made him laugh until his sides hurt. She’d challenged him, kept him on his toes, and reminded him how much fun dancing could be. And somewhere along the way, their partnership had turned into something more.

He hadn’t told her, of course. How could he? She was a superstar in her own right, constantly traveling for rugby, interviews, and events. She had a whole world waiting for her, and he was just a dancer with a packed tour schedule.

But the thought of not telling her - of letting her slip through his fingers - gnawed at him.

His phone buzzed with a notification. A photo from Ilona: her family’s Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments that looked handmade and slightly mismatched, the kind of tree that screamed “home.”

Wish you were here to see it in person, she’d written.

Alan stared at the message, his pulse quickening. Was that an invitation? Or was he reading too much into it?

Before he could overthink it, he pulled up his airline app and canceled his flight to Minnesota. Then he booked a new one.

---

At Ilona woke up Christmas Eve to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Groggily, she reached for it, squinting at the screen. It was a text from Alan.

What’s your favorite Christmas movie?

She grinned, her sleepiness forgotten. Tough call. Maybe Elf? Or Love Actually. Why?

Just curious.

She rolled her eyes at his vagueness but couldn’t help smiling. Before she could type a reply, her mom called her down to help with breakfast.

The day passed in a blur of family traditions. Decorating cookies. Watching presents being torn open. Catching up with relatives she hadn’t seen in months. But even amid the chaos, Alan was never far from her mind.

It was just after 8 p.m. when the knock came at the door. Ilona was curled up on the couch, the glow of the fireplace illuminating the room. She frowned, glancing toward the front door.

“Expecting someone?” her dad asked from his recliner.

“No,” she said, standing and heading to the door.

When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat.

“Alan?”

He stood on the porch, a shy smile playing on his lips. He was bundled in a coat and scarf, his cheeks flushed from the cold. In his hand was a small, gift-wrapped box.

“Merry Christmas,” he said softly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I needed to see you,” he admitted, his eyes locking with hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them standing in the glow of the porch light.

“Are you going to let him in, or are you planning to freeze him out there?” her dad called from the living room.

“Yeah, what he said,” Alan added, a nod toward the living room beyond her. 

Ilona blinked, stepping aside to let Alan in. He shrugged off his coat, and she led him to the living room, where her family greeted him with warm smiles and curious glances. As they exchanged pleasantries, Ilona couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. He was here. In her parents’ house. On Christmas Eve.

Ilona noticed her sisters, Olivia and Adrianna, exchanging looks from across the room. They weren’t subtle—wide-eyed glances, barely-contained smirks. Ilona braced herself.

“Ilona, come help us in the kitchen for a sec,” Adrianna said, her voice dripping with a faux-casual tone.

Ilona shot her a warning look but reluctantly stood and followed the two of them into the next room.

Once they were out of earshot, the interrogation began.

“Ilona,” Olivia hissed at her, “What is Alan doing here?” 

Adrianna sighed dramatically. “This is right out of one of those stupid books you read all the time. Literally the most romantic thing I’ve ever experienced, right here in my own childhood home.” 

Ilona rolled her eyes at her two sisters. “One, I have no idea why he’s here. Maybe he just really needed to say hi. And two, could we not discuss my reading habits? They don’t even apply, we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t fly across the entire country to surprise each other on Christmas Eve,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow.

Ilona groaned, rubbing her temples. “First of all, he’s Jewish, so let’s not read into the day too much. And it’s not even like that. I mean, it’s… complicated?”

Olivia smirked. “Complicated like how you’ve been smiling at your phone every five minutes for the last month? Or complicated like how he can’t stop looking at you out there?”

Ilona felt her cheeks heat up. “Can you not?”

Adrianna stepped closer, her expression softening. “Look, Lo, he flew all the way here just to see you, there’s something there. You can try to deny it, but we’ve seen enough Hallmark movies to know what this means. You’ve gotta get out of your own head for once.”

Olivia nodded. “As the person who sat on the sidelines of this budding ‘it’s not like that’ relationship for twelve weeks, I can tell you it might be very much like that based off of the way he always stared at you when he thought no one else would notice. Good job, sis.”

“Stop!” Ilona hissed, though she couldn’t help laughing.

“Fine,” Adrianna said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, don’t let this pass you by. He’s here for a reason, Ilona. Figure out what that is.”

Before Ilona could respond, Olivia gave her a playful shove. “Now go back in there before Mom decides to give him the family history and scare him off.”

Shaking her head but smiling despite herself, Ilona returned to the living room, her heart racing. When her eyes met Alan’s, he gave her a small, nervous smile.

Maybe her sisters were right?

Later, after she’d survived several more little quips from her sisters and her family had gone to bed, Ilona and Alan sat on the couch, a blanket draped over their laps. The Christmas tree lights twinkled beside them, casting a warm glow.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I told you - I needed to see you.”

Suddenly feeling brave, she pressed him for a better answer. “Why?”

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. “Because I couldn’t go another day without telling you how I feel,” he finally admitted.

Her heart stopped.

“Ilona, you’re… incredible. You’re strong and funny and passionate, and being around you makes everything else in my life feel brighter. Like I’m a better person because of you. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I fell for you.”

She stared at him, her mind racing.

“I know your life is crazy, and mine is too,” he continued quickly. “But I couldn’t let that stop me from telling you. Even if nothing changes, I needed you to know.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.

“You flew across the country to tell me that?”

He nodded, his expression earnest.

“You’re insane,” she laughed, but her voice was soft, her eyes shining.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile. “But hopefully worth it…?”

She leaned closer, her hand finding his. “Definitely worth it. Because I feel the same way.”

His breath hitched. “You do?”

She nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, I do.”

Before either of them could overthink it, she leaned in, her lips brushing his. It was soft and tentative at first, but then his hand cupped her cheek, and the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions they’d been holding back.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them grinning like fools.

“Merry Christmas,” Alan whispered, threading his fingers through hers.

“Merry Christmas,” Ilona replied, her heart fuller than it had been in a long time. “What happens now?” 

Alan exhaled, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve got the tour, and you’ve got rugby… but I know I want to figure it out. If you’re willing to try.”

Ilona’s lips curled into a smile. “I’ve tackled way bigger challenges than long-distance, Bersten. I think we can handle it.”

His grin spread slowly, his relief evident. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You still owe me my 20 seconds of very slow dancing not in front of the entire country.”

Alan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Deal. But only if I get to pick the song.”