“Yeah?” Her mother had never said it out loud. After the pills had started, she hadn’t said much about anyone but her father—her obsession.
“We’re all proud of you, hermanita.” This time, it didn’t feel so awkward for him to call her “little sister.”
“Even Joaquin? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him express an emotion.”
Max laughed again and she reveled in how normal their relationship was starting to feel. “Can you blame him? Every time he cried as a little kid, Dad belted him.”
Laura knew exactly why. Her older brother was gay, and her father never would have approved of that. He had tried to beat it out of him. Uber-masculine sporty guy Max would have escaped their father’s wrath. Joaquin would have borne the brunt of her father’s rage.
Laura didn’t remember any of that, and it sent a chill down her spine. She only remembered Joaquin as an adult, and the thought of hurting a little kid made her ache inside. She needed a moment.
“Do you have to go?”
She didn’t want to get off the phone, but she didn’t want to freeze her feet off either. “No, I just need a second.”
When she was out of the bath and wrapped in a bathrobe, she sat down on one of the tables in the empty training room with her phone. “I didn’t know any of that.”
“I’m sorry.” Her brother’s voice was heavy with sorrow.
“What for?” She used to blame her brothers for bailing as soon as they were eighteen, but given their options, she couldn’t exactly blame them. “You did what you had to do to survive.”
“We should have believed you.”
She toyed with the sash on her robe, searching for the right words. “There’s not much either of you could have done.”
“I guess you’re right, but we could have gotten you out of there.”
“I got myself out.”
“We should have been there to help.”
Hearing that from her brother almost had her losing it. She’d just never asked for their help because the Delgados didn’t do that, at least according to their father. Thinking of that fucked up family motto had her thinking about her mom again. And how much it must have crushed her to leave.
“Have either of you talked to Dad?”
When Max answered, it was like a door slamming. “No. He wasn’t going to let her go to rehab. And I don’t know if I can forgive him for that.”
“Aren’t we now supposed to be all loving and forgiving?”
“Some things I can’t forget.” Jesus, she needed to get to know her brother more when she went home. Even growing up there, living there her whole life, it was strange to think of Miami as home. She’d always longed for the anonymity and fame promised by New York. Now that she was here, feeling alone and disconnected from everyone she cared about, she longed for her hometown.
And it wasn’t just about Charlie, although he was a big part of it. She wished she had said something when he was leaving her dressing room. She wished she had torn up the divorce papers instead of turning them over to her grandfather.
But it was too late to take it all back. He’d let her know that, as soon as a judge signed the decree, they wouldn’t be married anymore.
Chapter 19
Charlie stared at Laura’s grandfather in disbelief. His hands were numb, and he felt like the guy who had his heart torn out in that Indiana Jones movie. He rubbed the spot where it used to be and fell into the chair that was thankfully behind him.
“She’s not my wife?”
Rogelio looked sheepish, as though he’d never lied before in his life. “Even if she had been your wife, you wouldn’t have been married after I filed these papers.”
“You mean the fake papers dissolving my fake marriage.” Saying that his marriage had been fake out loud made it hard to breathe. He bent over and placed his elbows on his knees, just trying to get air.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
His head popped up. “Not your idea? You committed fraud.” Threatening the man with criminal charges was probably not the way to get straight answers from him, but he had limited options here. He felt as though that string of hope that he’d tried to strangle was unraveling all on its own.
He’d come here to convince Laura’s grandfather to delay filing the divorce papers. If only he had a little more time—time to do something big to show her that they belonged together—that they could make things work. He’d wanted to be able to tell her that he’d stopped everything.
“Even if it had been real, I represent Laura, not you.” The old man shook his head. “I couldn’t have halted the proceedings at your request.”
“Since it was never real, then I guess that won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Well, no.”
Charlie put his head between his knees. She was never his, never belonged to him. He hadn’t realized until that very moment that he’d built up the idea of a family with Laura inside his head. Unlike the man standing in front of him, his marriage vows, both sets of them, had meant something. They meant that he was sworn to protect his wife from everyone and everything, including himself.
Still, even though he’d resolved to let Laura go, again and again, he’d had that piece of paper saying that they were man and wife in the back of his head. But it had all been a lie. Heat spread over his skin as anger took over his body.
“This was Lola, wasn’t it?”
The old man blanched. “No, don’t you get mad at her. I went along with it.”
“But why?”
He shrugged. “I’m still in love with my wife.”
“The one you had a real marriage with, real children?” Charlie stood up and prowled the office, wanting to knock things off shelves and putting his hands deep in his pockets to protect all the framed photos and awards lining the room. “The marriage that ended in divorce and destroyed your daughter?”
Charlie knew it wasn’t fair. The man sitting on the other side of the desk had made mistakes. But this particular mistake hadn’t been his idea. “I know all that, but Lola thought it was best.”
“Since when do you listen to her?” Charlie had heard enough stories to know that listening hadn’t ever been Laura’s grandfather’s strong suit. No wonder her mother had found a carbon copy in her husband. No wonder Laura was so stingy with her heart. No one had ever given her the space to share it before. “She thought lying was the answer to Laura’s problems?”
“She thought it was a nudge in the right direction.” The old man stood up. “I told her that I was worried about Laura, concerned that she would lose herself if she wasn’t able to return to the ballet. Then, Lola got this look in her eyes—one I recognized could not be dissuaded. She saw the two of you dancing together at the reception, it was like an avalanche or a rock rolling down a mountain.” He made a locomotive motion with his arms. If Charlie weren’t so angry, he would have laughed. “I knew I couldn’t stop her, so I at least wanted to give her a good cover story.”
“Were you ever going to tell her?” Charlie’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again, thinking of Laura getting the news he’d just gotten all alone in New York.
No one in her family knew his woman the way he did. They all tried to manipulate her and maneuver her, never asking her about what she really wanted. They didn’t see her the way that he did, and he couldn’t fucking stand it. Laura Delgado was glorious, and she deserved for the world to see that. Even more, she deserved to have the love of someone—him—who’d seen that from the start.
“Yes. Eventually. I would have had to tell her. It would have been unethical.”
“I should really fucking report this to the bar.” Charlie stopped, and the old man got even whiter, if that were possible. Laura had told him that his work as a lawyer was important to him, that he hadn’t been able to practice in Cuba because he’d been a dissident, and Charlie wante
d to threaten something important to him. Even though he was enraged, he wouldn’t follow through on his threat because it would upset Laura. “But I’m not going to. I am going to need you to help me get her back, though.”
* * * *
Charlie wanted Laura to shine in her final performance with the New York City Ballet because he wanted that for her. And he wanted her to get a permanent place with them. Then, he would stay in New York and convince her to be with him. Or, if she didn’t get a spot, he wanted her to come back to Miami and date him. And then—when she was ready—he wanted her to retire and marry him. He needed to make her happy, and tell her she was loved at least a thousand times a day.
Other than that, he would place no demands on her.
He wasn’t surprised when her performance was even more transcendent than opening night. She had a confidence she hadn’t shown that night, and she glowed. The fact that it hollowed out his insides thinking that maybe she was better off without him didn’t rate. He loved her. The only thing he truly needed—regardless of what he wanted—was for her to know that he loved her and would do anything for her to be happy.
He was sitting fifty rows back since he didn’t have the same kind of pull in New York, and the show had technically been sold out. It bothered him that he couldn’t see her face. He wanted to hold her jaw in his hands and kiss her like he wished he had the last night.
Just seeing her move had him more keyed up than was polite. He shifted in his seat, probably disturbing everyone next to him. She had a different partner for this production, and it seemed that their chemistry was better than it had been with her partner in Miami. The little half-smiles she gave as she played at seducing him—Charlie was greedy for those smiles to belong to him.
He tried to reassure himself that he would be able to get her back. He couldn’t live with the uncertainty. But he had to learn to deal with it. Now that he was in the room with her—even far away—it was so much harder to think about walking away if she decided that she didn’t want him. Now that he could see her moving in front of him—the artistry and sensuality of her all tangled up—he didn’t know if he could keep his promise to himself. He wanted to rush the stage and bundle her away from him.
The show lasted approximately forever and fifteen minutes. As soon as the dancers took their final bows, after the third standing ovation, Charlie made his move. First, he tried bribing the guy guarding the stage door that led to the dancers’ dressing rooms.
With a New York accent, the man told him he was “shit out of luck.”
His next and only option if he didn’t want to camp out at her temporary apartment, was to wait next to the stage door. So that’s what he did. The New York air was chillier than he was used to. Living in Miami for more than one winter had thinned his blood so much that he couldn’t rightly call himself a Midwesterner anymore. But he would learn to live with the cold if this was where Laura wanted to be.
He pulled up the collar on his wool coat, his breath coming out as puffs of fog. There were a few other people waiting, mostly little girls and their parents, waiting to meet their idols. Most of the parents looked bored, but the little girls buzzed with energy. He was with them.
He tried and failed not to picture a little girl with Laura’s dark eyes and his light brown hair, bouncing up and down in anticipation. She’d be obsessed with ballet, and full of energy. She wouldn’t be able to help herself and she’d pirouette down the sidewalk in her patent leather shoes.
Charlie wanted that so much. He wanted whatever Laura would give him, and he only hoped it would be more than nothing at all.
The door opened, and he couldn’t breathe. When a man he recognized as Laura’s partner walked out and shared a romantic hug with the only other single man waiting outside the stage door, he could finally exhale.
Three or four other dancers came out before Laura’s dark head appeared in the door. She had her hair down, so he couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t need to see all of her to recognize her, for his whole body to thrum back to life.
He waited for her to look up, half convinced that she would walk right past him without a second glance. Maybe his time with her had been a dream and he had actually lost his mind.
When she did look up at him, she didn’t look happy. He was instantly afraid that he’d made a mistake by coming here. He should have called first, talked to her over the phone, texted her to make sure it was okay to come.
“You’re here.” She didn’t slap him, so that was something, but her face was still neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He hadn’t prepared a speech, thinking that he’d be able to tell her everything that he needed to tell her. Instead, silence stretched out between the two of them. But there was still a strong awareness along with the silence. The air was filled with something.
And then she shivered.
He had his coat off and around her too fast for her to say anything. Faster than he could ask whether it was still okay to touch her.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” But he would freeze his balls off for the chance to touch her, even if it was just embracing her so she stayed warm. “You need a warmer coat.”
“I’m fine.”
Silence stretched out between them as he stared at her. He wanted to drink her in, especially if she truly didn’t want him. This was as close as he would ever get to the heaven of her hands on him again. He inhaled her shampoo, and fought the urge to kiss her and forget talking.
But they needed to talk, and the way to do that was through talking. “Are you hungry?”
“Always trying to feed me.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to fatten me up so I can’t dance anymore?”
That hit him in the solar plexus. Couldn’t she see that she was killing him? That the last thing he wanted was for her to lose out on her dream? “No, but I don’t want you keeling over on stage.”
“I have food where I’m staying.”
On the one hand, he was happy she was inviting him in to her temporary home. On the other, maybe she just didn’t want to dump him for good in public.
“Then, let’s go.”
* * * *
Sweet Jesus, she’d missed the way Charlie smelled. She’d missed the earnest way he always wanted to see to her needs, and the way he touched her as though she was precious made her weak in the knees. And in the heart.
Until she’d had him, she hadn’t realized how much her animal body needed to be touched by someone who cared. She was always having people touch her—dance partners, teachers, trainers—but none of that gave her the sensation of being truly cared for.
And she was glad he came to her. She’d considered leaving the show early, but she didn’t want to get a bad reputation. If she’d gone to Charlie in Miami, she would have blown her chance on dancing permanently with the NYCB. And if he’d turned her down, she would have been screwed.
They walked the few blocks to her sublet in silence. He held her hand, squeezed it so tight that it would have been painful if she hadn’t needed it that way.
She needed Charlie. And that was just the simple truth of it.
Once they got up to the studio she was renting from another dancer, he filled up the whole space. She put his coat on the chair, and walked over to the tiny kitchenette.
“Breakfast for dinner okay?”
“I’m not hungry.” She jumped because she hadn’t expected him to be so close to her. But it seemed he couldn’t even let a few hundred square feet separate them. “But you are.”
“I’m not. I just—” She closed the refrigerator, turned, and looked at him, this lethally handsome man who could have been permanently hers. And her heart just broke.
Immediately, he gathered her close, and her broken sobs soaked his undoubtedly expensive shirt. Luckily, she’d wiped off her stage makeup, otherwise it would have be
en a total loss. She needed to stop crying, but him hugging her almost made it worse. He was supporting her when she was the one who’d rejected him. It made no sense.
Finally, she pulled herself together and put some distance between them. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” He leaned down and looked into her gaze. She felt so much more exposed than she ever had. “I just want to know how I can fix it.”
By promising to be her husband again.
“I—I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Tell me what it is.” His grip on her biceps was so steady, so strong that she didn’t feel the need to hold back.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have given us a chance.”
“And I should have waited for you to be ready.” His voice was so solemn, as though he was the person who’d screwed this all up.
“You didn’t screw this up.” He moved them to the tiny couch and settled them both. He pulled her into his side as though she hadn’t chosen a career over him a month ago. “I screwed it up.”
“Well, technically, your grandparents screwed it up.”
She sat up so she could look him in the face. “What do you mean?”
His lips twitched as he wiped the remnants of a tear from her cheek. “We’re not married.”
Had he suffered a blow to the head since she left in Miami? “No, we’re divorced.”
“I’m divorced, but not from you.”
She shook her head to loosen some of the confusion caused by this conversation. Although she’d been working hard and not sleeping much, none of this made sense because of him, not her. “What do you mean?”
“We were never legally married.”
“But my grandfather?” She flattened her palm against his chest, needing his heartbeat to ground her. “And my taxes?”
“Lola.”
“The officiant?”
“He wasn’t in on it.” Charlie shrugged. “I managed to track him down through the hotel. Apparently, we just made him dance and do several shots of top shelf tequila. He blessed us for the free booze, but he didn’t perform an actual wedding ceremony.”
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