When Andre gets back into the vehicle, it fills with the smell of fresh baked bread. My stomach rumbles as Andre passes subs to the driver and me.
The first bite is heaven. Ham, salami, cheese, onion, tomato, and Italian dressing mingle perfectly.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “That bread is amazing.”
“I eat dinner here a couple times a week,” Andre says.
The driver is backing out of our parking spot when a sign for a storefront a block over comes into view.
“What is that?” I crane my neck to see it. “Miss Dee Dee’s Dance Depot?”
“Let’s go see,” Andre says to the driver.
It’s a beautiful old train station that’s apparently been renovated into a dance studio. My heart beats faster as I take in the brick building and ornate sign hanging out front. I miss dancing.
“You want to go check it out?” Andre asks.
He must see the excitement on my face. But at the same time, there’s trepidation inside me. I have a limp now. How will that affect my dancing? I almost don’t want to know.
“Is it safe?” I ask Andre, knowing I won’t be disappointed if he says no.
“Yeah, we’re good. This place is deserted, and there’s another team trailing us.”
He opens his door, decision made. I take a deep breath as I wait for him to open mine. When he does, I step out and we approach the studio.
“I don’t think there’s anyone here,” I say. “It looks like a great place, though. Maybe I can come back another time.”
Andre inclines his head toward the depot’s door. “Let’s just go see.”
I follow him up to the door, which opens when he tries it.
“Hello?” he calls inside. “Anyone here?”
A voice responds, and I suddenly want to run back to the SUV and hide behind the tinted windows. I’m not ready to see a perky dance instructor who will think Elle Tyler is going to bust a move right here and now.
“Can I help you?”
A woman opens the door, and she’s not what I was expecting. She’s large, with wild gray curls and glasses that sit down on her nose. There’s a worn wooden cane in one of her hands.
“Hi,” I say nervously. “Are you Miss Dee Dee?”
“I am.”
“I’m Elle. I just saw your studio, and . . . it’s beautiful. Do you think I could look inside? Just for a few seconds?”
Her stern expression morphs into a warm one. “Of course, come on in.”
She steps aside, and Andre gestures for me to walk in first.
“Wow.” I breathe the word as I look out over the studio’s dark wood floor. Barres and mirrors line three walls.
When Andre comes in, I turn to Miss Dee Dee and say, “This is Andre. He’s my bodyguard.”
She passes her cane to her other hand so she can shake his hand, then leans on it once again.
“You must be the pop star, then. The youngest Lockhart boy’s girl.”
I smile, warm all over from being called that. “Yes, I am.”
“Well, this is my little corner of heaven. I know it’s nothing fancy, but—”
“It’s beautiful.” I approach the barre and run a hand over its smooth surface. “I learned to dance in a studio kind of like this. It was smaller, but it had the same feeling.”
There’s a reception desk in the corner of the large room, and I walk over to look at a framed photo hanging behind it. It’s Miss Dee Dee in her younger days, looking stunning and happy.
“You’ve been dancing your whole life,” I say softly.
She chuckles as she walks over to a wood stool against one wall and eases herself onto it. “Not so much anymore, but I love teaching.”
“What types of dance do you teach?”
“Ballroom dance, tap, jazz, and ballet. And anything else as requested, but there’s not much of a market for other things here.”
I nod and look out over the room again, breathing in the smell of the wood floors. “Thank you so much for letting me come in. I love your studio.”
When I give her a grateful smile, she’s studying me.
“The doors are always open, you know.”
I shake my head. “I have a limp. And it’s been more than two months since I’ve even—”
She waves a hand and gives me a disgusted look. “Hogwash. Your limp is quite minor. Come to my ballroom class tonight with your Lockhart boy.”
I arch my brows with amusement. “Justin.”
“I can’t keep them straight,” she says with a shrug. “You can’t swing a cat in this town without hitting a Lockhart. And they’re all tall, dark, and handsome.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Six o’clock.” She slides off the stool and gestures at the door with her cane. “I’ll see you then.”
“But I—”
“Don’t bother,” she says firmly. “I’m an old woman with limited patience. You want to dance—it’s written all over your face. And I have a dance studio. I’ll see you this evening.”
I open my mouth to protest, but then I close it again. “Okay. See you then.”
And that’s how I find myself standing across from Justin on the floor of Miss Dee Dee’s studio that evening. He’s giving me a crooked grin that melts my heart.
Despite his height and his broad shoulders, he’s a graceful dancer. So is his brother, Reed, who is leading Ivy around the dance floor nearby. A few of the other dancers are giving me the occasional look of recognition, but most are older and don’t seem to care who I am.
My limp makes me feel awkward at first, but knowing Justin won’t let me fall gives me the confidence to keep going. It’s nice being so close to him that I can feel the heat of his body and smell the aftershave he puts on every morning.
Miss Dee Dee ambles around the room as we dance, pointing her cane at people who are making mistakes and calling them out in front of everyone. She even pokes a few of them with the cane, her expression of disgust almost comical.
Fortunately, she ignores us, and we’ve danced away the hour-long class in what seems like minutes. I’m a little tired and sweaty, but mostly exhilarated. Dancing filled my heart in a way nothing else could have. I got to share something I love with Justin.
“See you Thursday night,” Miss Dee Dee says as she peers at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Thanks for this,” I say to her.
She just nods at me. “Like I said, my doors are always open. You come in here anytime you need to.”
I could hug her, but I’m not sure she’d approve, so I don’t. I never would have thought this crotchety old dancer would see something in me I didn’t even see in myself.
I needed to dance again. And that means I may need to write music and sing again. Not for the world—just for me. I’m not ready to think any further down the road than that.
Reed and Ivy ask us to have dinner with them at Gene’s Diner. The security guys sit at a table next to us and drink coffee, trying to do their jobs while letting me have a normal meal out with friends.
We’ve just ordered when a teenage girl approaches and turns her back to our table, holding up her phone to get a selfie with me in the background.
Justin lowers his brows in a look of disgust and wraps his arm around me just as a man walking by our table pauses to snap a photo of us.
“Do you mind?” Justin’s tone is aggravated, but the man just shrugs and waves at me.
“Sorry, guys,” I say softly.
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” Ivy says.
“Yeah, but . . . once those get posted to Facebook, more people will come.”
“Let ’em come,” Reed says. “We’ll block off the table if we have to.”
Lots of people are looking at me now, and it feels different than it used to. Now I don’t know if they’re looking at me because I’m Elle Tyler or because they want a look at the scar on my face. Even with my silicone strip, I’m conscious of it.
“I’m sorry,�
� a woman says as she stops next to our table. “But can I ask you to do a photo with my daughter and her friend? They’re your biggest fans.”
Justin opens his mouth to refuse, but I stop him. “It’s okay. Sure, I’d be glad to do that.”
The mom squeals with excitement, and the two teenage girls both hug me before we get a photo. Several more people approach and ask for photos and autographs. They’re full of enthusiasm and questions.
“Are you staying in Lovely?”
“When’s your next album coming out?”
“Is Justin Lockhart your boyfriend?”
“Are you gonna do a concert here?”
I answer all of them honestly, and the true answer to many of their questions is, “I don’t know.” It’s not bad, taking pictures and chatting with the small group. I feel a little more like myself by the time our food arrives, and Justin comes over to tell the fans we’re eating in private and they’ll have to catch me later.
The security guys run interference for us while we eat, telling anyone who approaches that I’m not available. I still give out a few waves and smiles, but mostly, I’m focused on the good food and great company.
It’s the first official date Justin and I have had, and it’s good to be moving forward with him. It means I’m one step closer to seeing what’s under the dark, well-tailored suit he’s wearing.
Justin
EMILY IS MY DAUGHTER. I already thought she was, so it’s not a shock when I get the call from the doctor’s office. When I tell Elle, she hugs me and tells me I’ll be a great dad.
Telling my family is another matter. My parents are taken aback. It fucking sucks to tell my parents I had a one-night stand with a woman who lied about being on birth control and sabotaged the condom.
“And you didn’t sense that she was mentally unstable?” my mom asks with a skeptical expression.
“I wouldn’t have slept with her if I had. But I was drunk that night, so . . . I don’t remember much.”
My dad tells me what matters now is manning up to support Mallory financially and be the best dad I can to Emily. I plan to do both, and I tell Mallory that when we meet up at the guesthouse to talk. Elle is inside the main house with my parents, but I’m wishing she was beside me when I sit down on the couch to talk to Mallory.
“So . . .” She smiles at me and it’s all I can do to hold in my anger.
Everything’s going according to plan in her mind. But Emily and I have both been used unfairly.
“I’d like joint custody at the very least,” I say. “I want her half of the time.”
Mallory’s smile slides away. “But . . . she’d be better off living with both of us.”
“Well, that’s not happening.”
“Can’t you at least try? For her sake?”
I shake my head. “You and I will never be together. I’m with someone else, but even if I weren’t—”
“You mean Elle Tyler?” she asks bitterly.
“Yes.”
Mallory’s expression is angry. “I’ve been waiting for four years. I’ve been alone that whole time, raising Emily alone so we could be a family when you came back.”
“That was never going to happen. We were never even in a relationship.”
She sniffles, on the verge of tears now. “Wait until everyone hears about you ditching out on the mother of your child.”
Her threat is almost amusing. “Everyone knows we were never together.”
“But I am the mother of your child.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Yes. Thanks to your lies.”
“I won’t have my daughter feeling like an accident. She doesn’t deserve that.”
I nod. “I agree. I’d never make her feel that way. I’m just saying, between you and me, it’s time to cut the shit. I want joint custody, and I want you to submit to a home study and a psych evaluation.”
Mallory’s mouth drops open in surprise. “How dare you? I’m a great mother to Emily.”
“I hope so. But what you did isn’t healthy.”
“Unbelievable. So now it’s me against the Lockhart fortune? Oh, and your girlfriend’s millions, too.”
I don’t feel any sympathy for her. She brought all of this on herself.
“When can I see Emily?” I ask.
She sighs and looks out the window for a few seconds. “How about this weekend? You can come over to my place.”
“I’d rather meet up somewhere else.”
“So you can bring your girlfriend?” She scowls. “I don’t want her meeting Emily. Just meeting you will be a lot for her to take in.”
“I know. Why don’t we meet up at the park?”
“Just you. Not Elle, or whatever her real name is.”
“It’s Elle. And it’ll just be me for now.”
“Is that her stuff?” She sneers at a stack of Elle’s clean T-shirts on a nearby table.
“Yeah. We live here.”
She bursts into dramatic tears, and I roll my eyes.
“So, I think we’re done here. I hired Rob Larson to represent me, so let him know who your counsel is.”
“I can’t afford an attorney, Justin.” She wipes her eyes. “I’m getting scared. Don’t take her away from me. She’s all I have.”
“If you have a good home for her, all I want is joint custody.”
“I take good care of her, I really do. I know what I did was . . . kind of wrong, but I’m a good mom to her.”
Kind of wrong? I force myself not to comment on that.
“What time this weekend?”
She thinks about it for a few seconds. “I have to work Saturday, so how about Sunday?”
“Okay.”
“Give me your number and I’ll text about a time.”
I hesitate, and she gives me a dirty look.
“Really? You don’t want to give me your number?”
“Don’t text me about anything other than Emily,” I warn.
“I won’t. I know I can’t compete with your famous model girlfriend.”
I give her the number, and as soon as she’s done entering it, she says, “At least I don’t have a big scar on my face. Something to think about.”
“Get the fuck out of here. You’re pathetic.” I open the door, my teeth clenched and my jaw tight with tension.
Elle is helping my mom in the yard, wearing a wide-brimmed gardening hat as they plant flowers, and she looks up when Mallory and I walk out of the guesthouse. Mallory stares at her as she makes her way across the yard, Andre’s gaze following her the whole way.
“How’d it go?” Elle asks in a low tone, standing as I approach.
I put my arms around her and hold her against me. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“When will you be seeing Emily?”
“This weekend.”
She hugs me tighter. “I’m so happy for you, Justin.”
I lean back and look down at her. “You ready to go house hunting?”
“House hunting?” My mom looks from Elle to me. “Aren’t you comfortable here?”
“I need my own place, Mom.”
“Are you two moving in together?”
My parents aren’t big fans of living together before marriage, and I can hear judgment in her tone. Apparently, living together in her guesthouse isn’t the same.
“I hope so,” I say, pushing back the brim of Elle’s hat to kiss her.
“I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
She looks up at me, and I feel a rush of gratitude for her. Learning I have a three-year-old daughter might have scared some women away. But Elle is made of strong stuff. Stronger than I think she even realizes.
I never would have thought one of the most famous women in the world would look right at home gardening with my mom in Lovely. I just hope my small hometown is enough to keep her happy long-term.
I’M PLAYING BASKETBALL WITH three of my brothers that evening, and when I tell them Elle and I are looking for a house, Mason laughs
like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard.
“I’m not seeing the humor in this,” I tell him.
He passes me the ball and then pulls his T-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face.
“I just think it’s funny that baby Justin is going to live with a woman before marriage.”
I scowl at him. “What’s funny about it, asshole?”
“You were always the perfect one.”
“No, Kyle was the perfect one.”
Kyle scoffs at that. “Hello? Crazy ex-wife? Fell in love with Reed’s former fiancée? I’m sure as hell not perfect.”
“I guess.” I bounce the ball to occupy my hands during a break from the game. “But Mason, you lived with April before you guys got married, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“I kept my apartment until we got married so Mom could tell herself I wasn’t living with April.”
I shrug. “Mom’s just gonna have to get over it.”
“You guys are moving pretty fast,” Austin says. “Wasn’t she just engaged to another guy?”
“That doesn’t matter to me. When you know, you know.”
“And what do you know?” Kyle raises his brows in challenge. “That you plan to marry this girl, or that you just want to live with her?”
“It’s too soon for marriage talk. I just know that nothing else feels right but this. Her. Us living together.”
Kyle nods, but I still see skepticism on his face. “Just be careful.”
“Why do you say that? Elle is all in, just like I am.”
“She’s fallen for the guy who saved her, man. And while it might be real, it also might be her romanticizing what happened. That might not last forever.”
“You’re a douchebag,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Just stick to cutting people open, because you’re not a love expert.”
He grins at that. “Never said I was. I got it right the second time, though. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“That brings a tear to my eye, but don’t worry about me.” I pass the ball to Mason. “Are we gonna play or just keep talking about feelings like a bunch of girls?”
We play. And it’s the kind of grueling two-on-two I only get when I play with my brothers. It’s really good to be home. And it’s even better to be home with the woman I’m crazy about.
Hidden Depth (Lockhart Brothers Book 4) Page 12