She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A ball of regret lodges in my throat as I think of the way I’ve punished her in the last few days for her gift.
She’s light, and you can’t hide light, you can’t hold it and keep it. It’s unattainable. And maybe that’s what Harper is for me—a light I can’t keep. As the burn in my chest grows unbearable, I fight myself not to let the defeat show. A fighter I may be, but I am the threatening dark to her light, and this light I can’t, I refuse to snuff out. As the song gathers momentum, she follows it in a surreal leap across the length of the room before spinning into a series of circles, her frame taut, her legs in a continuous rotation.
A saxophone chimes in, cuing the end of her story as she wraps herself back into position, and I sit there stunned until her head pops up and she peeks over at me, her skin shimmering with sweat, her cheeks heated.
“Merry Christmas?”
“Come here, beautiful,” I whisper hoarsely, holding out my hand. She lifts, worry on her features, and takes my hand as I pull her to me and wrap her in my arms. I cradle her, so she can’t see the expression on my face. I’m fighting like hell not to lose my shit. “I need you to forgive me.”
“For? What’s wrong, Lance?”
“I foolishly forgot just how magical you are. Harper,” I manage, “baby, that was incredible.”
“Really?” She tries to look back at me, and I keep her pinned where she is. Maybe it’s the wine, but I can’t help the threatening emotion, so I pull the damp hair away from her face along with her sweater and press a kiss to her shoulder.
“Can I ask for one more gift?”
“Anything.”
“It’s more of a promise. Please don’t ever stop dancing. Not for me, not for anyone, not ever.”
“I won’t. Lance, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all,” I say, pulling her back to me and letting my lips roam.
“I’m all sweaty.”
“I like you this way.”
“Such a charmer, but still no Shakespeare.” The rawness of my voice has her on alert, but I just hold her to me, keeping my forearm locked around her chest.
“You’re going to blow them away with that dance. I’m so damned proud of you.”
“Look at you, getting all sentimental on wine.”
It’s the longest fight of my life. The minute it takes me to rein my emotions in. I’ve already lost her again, and the worst part is I completely understand why. I can’t be in her future if it’s here in New York. It’s not impossible, but with her unwillingness to commit to anything but dance, it’s improbable. I battle with myself to ask. I’ll never feel this way about any other woman, I know it.
I know the unconditional love of family, the sincerity of a good friendship in its own love-like version, but Harper showed me—taught me—what love with strings feels like. Her strings pinpoint so many parts of the anatomy of my heart—desire, borderline obsession, need, want, but most of all, the capacity to be content, and that’s something I’ve never had until her. I still love her the way she taught me how, and I don’t want to ever know any different. It’s her.
This fight is selfish. All my thoughts are selfish. The best thing I can do for her is let her dance, let her shine her light, and not taint her with the darkness I fight daily, the darkness that keeps threatening to swallow me whole.
Maybe my line of thinking is dramatic, but it’s totally true.
“It’s almost midnight, almost Christmas,” she says softly before leaning back and drawing me into her kiss. I kiss her back, knowing the clock is ticking as I fight for just another minute with her. No matter how good we fit, no matter how hard we love each other, or how much I want it, she can’t truly belong to me.
And it’s that blow that leaves me defeated.
Harper
Both of us are on the verge of sleep, Lance grips me tightly to him as we lay on my bed using my Mac as a TV. We put on my favorite Christmas movie after making love for hours. Hours I could never, ever forget. He’d showered me in his love, his need. I’ll never fail to remember the way he hovered above me—his movement so deliciously slow as my entire body shook with the feel of him. My center throbs now as I think of the way he leaned in, drawing my kiss as he rolled his hips, his deep thrusts stealing my breath, in his eyes a gentle storm. It’s utter completion being with him this way. I feel free, happier than I can ever remember. Nothing has ever felt so real to me, so right. My heart’s been faithful for good reason. He’s the one and my only, and he’s leaving soon. I’m terrified. Terrified to speak up because I know what battles I’ll face in the road ahead if I choose life with him.
Lance’s fingers run along my scalp, and I cower away from his touch. Repositioning myself on his chest, I try and concentrate on the movie and the feel of his caress.
“Happy, you little bitch?”
I shiver in his hold, trying to bat away the images that keep surfacing.
“Do we have your attention now, Harper?”
Minutes into my fight, Lance’s voice pulls me back to where he lies beneath me.
“She’s too skinny,” he says in sleepy observation.
“What?”
He juts his chin toward the screen. “She’s way too skinny.”
I lift to sit and peer down at him, unable to help the bite in my tone. “Is that all you see?”
He frowns. “What? What do you mean?”
I glance over at the screen. “Is that all you see when you look at her?”
“She’s unhealthy. She looks sick.”
“She’s my hero. Vera-Ellen is a freaking legend, and is she remembered for this movie or her incredible dancing? No, instead, she’s known as the anorexic dancer.”
“No offense, babe, but it looks pretty true.”
“You know what I see?” I say in a huff. “I see raw, unbelievable talent. A rarity. Someone worthy of a hell of a lot of praise, not your scrutiny.”
Lance moves to sit, reaching for me. “Where is this coming from?”
“I’m just saying, look at her dancing, her talent.”
“Whoa,” he says, reaching for me. I stand, shying away from his touch before roughly pulling on his T-shirt.
“People don’t get it. They have no idea what it takes to do something so damned complicated and make it look easy. You know what else I see,” I look over to the screen, “I see that she probably spent months perfecting the transition into that fouetté turn, for you, for me, and you see a girl who needs a cheeseburger.”
“Okay, what the hell, Harper?”
I shrug, trying to play off my crazy. “She’s my hero. And comments like that ruined her.”
“Point made. Sorry.”
“Fine. I’m hungry.”
I make my way into the bathroom and shut the door. Seconds later, a knock sounds on the back of it.
“I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to find anything to eat in there.”
I splash water on my face, humiliated. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Harper, open the door.”
I open it to see Lance standing in his underwear, confusion etched all over his face and in his eyes. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“I told you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m just hangry.”
“Fine,” he says, lifting me over his shoulder. “Let’s get you some food then, brat.”
“I’m not a brat,” I say as he hauls me into the kitchen. “I just think it’s wrong to look for the flaws,” I mumble into his shoulder. “You look at anyone long enough, you’ll find them.”
He sets me on the counter and pulls the leftover Chinese from the fridge before offering me a bite, and I refuse it. “You know she lost a baby to SIDS a few years after White Christmas and stepped out of the public eye. Now she’s just that anorexic dancer who went crazy.”
He sets the box down and smooths his hands down my arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? What is this really abou
t?”
“Nothing.”
He tips my chin. “Tell me.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s the perfect time, but I can’t bring myself to fess up. Terrified of his reaction, it’s all I can do to keep my chin from wobbling. By telling him, I would only humiliate myself more, and not only that, it would change everything. “It just breaks my heart, that’s all.”
“If you say so.” Unsatisfied with my reasoning, he forks another bite of noodles and offers it to me, and I refuse it again.
“So, not hungry, then.”
“Guess not.”
“Not even for a little dessert?” He picks up our unopened fortune cookies off the counter and holds it up. “I’ll open yours, and you open mine?”
“Deal.”
He pops one open, grinning as he reads the slip of paper. “This suits you.”
“What does it say?”
“The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.”
“That is so me.”
“Totally.”
He hands me his. I crack it open and shake my head, grinning.
“What does it say?”
“Meh.”
“Not a good one?”
“No,” I giggle, “it says Meh.” He takes the paper from me. “Of fucking course.”
“Let’s do half and half.”
He draws his brows. “You want half of meh?”
“Hell yes, I do.”
We each take half of our cookies and pop them in our mouths, sharing a smile before he lifts me off the counter, looking down at me. “You’re awesome.”
“That’s you. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out like that.”
“Don’t be.” He kisses me. “Let’s go back to bed.”
I lift a brow. “Are we going to sleep this time?”
“Maybe,” he grins, and I wrap myself around him, soaking in the warmth of his skin.
“You know, I could get used to this.”
His reply is silence, and it has me on edge, but once we’re in the bedroom, he kisses me back into our lull. After Vera’s next number, he turns to me on his pillow. “Believe it or not, I get exactly what you’re saying. She was incredible.” I nod, wrapping my leg around him and pulling him close. Savoring the feel of him, I drift to sleep just as the movie credits roll.
Lance
Harper sighs in my arms, content as I study her profile in the morning light. I slept harder than I have in months. And it’s the first time we’ve ever had a night in bed together in the entirety of our relationship. I’m way too comfortable. I need to break away. Get my head back on my future. One that will have to exist without her. It was foolish to come here, but I won’t regret it. She’s okay, she’s better than okay, she’s thriving. I saw the evidence of it in my time here. As much as I want to whisk her away and resume my life with her in it, I can’t. She’s barely scratched the surface of her dancing potential. She deserves to live her life the way she’s envisioned it, and any entanglement between us now will only get in the way. I’ll be an obligation she can’t cater to. I’ve been acting like a lunatic in the few days we’ve spent together, jealous of the one thing she loves most in the world, dancing. It’s immature and wrong of me. We managed to recapture what we lost, and it’s more devastating than I can imagine thinking that very soon, I’ll have to walk away from her and the idea of us all over again.
We were meant to be in each other’s lives for the time we’ve had, that much I’m sure, but our paths are so completely different. Hers clearly paved while mine is muddled with what-ifs.
Inhaling her vanilla scent, I give myself another few minutes just to hold her. To kiss her cheeks, her temple, her nose. Pain sears through me as I pull myself away.
It’s time to go.
Harper
I hear the shuffle of clothes and wake to see Lance dressing.
“Hey, you,” I smile, drinking him in, loving the look of him in my bedroom. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he replies, his voice void of the same life it had mere hours ago.
“It’s early,” I reach out to him, “Come back to bed.”
“I can’t.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have all my stuff back at the hotel, and I need to get back to my dad.”
This grabs my attention. “Is he…is it serious?”
“He’s temperamental these days, it’s always serious.”
“Sounds familiar.” I can’t help my smile.
When he doesn’t reply, I know something’s definitely up. I feel shut out from a few hours ago. It’s barely daybreak. Swallowing, I look around the bedroom because the idea of him leaving me has me scrambling to my knees. He pulls a sweater over his head and peers down at me.
“Can I use your restroom to wash up?”
“You were just inside me in that restroom hours ago, what’s with the formalities?”
He half shrugs. “Just trying to be polite.”
“By all means, Mr. Courteous.”
He shuts the door, and I hear the water run. Dragging myself from my bed, I wince at the soreness between my legs as I pull on my sweater. He’s leaving. On Christmas Day? Not just leaving, he’s bailing. Why? He’s been in a somber mood since he saw me dance and I can’t understand it. Putting a K-cup in my Keurig, I feel my heart start to race as dread fills me.
I walk over to the bathroom and knock on the door.
“So, where exactly in the city was your fight?”
Silence.
“Was it around here? I sure wish you would have given me the heads-up. I would have loved to have seen it.”
“Sorry, next time.”
Tears surface as I fully rouse and realize what’s happening. “I think we both know there won’t be a next time.”
The water shuts off, and he opens the door wiping his hands on the towel hanging on the back of it. “Probably right.”
“Yeah, because this was, what? ‘I’m in town and let me see if I can turn Harper’s world upside down?’…to get back at me?”
“You know that’s not it.”
“Your dad doesn’t need you home. Not today. You asked me to spend Christmas with you, and you’re going to up and leave a day early? Why?”
He avoids my stare, pulling his wallet from the top of my dresser and tucks it in his jeans. “I just need to get back.”
“Bullshit.”
“I have a fight coming up.”
“I understand, but it’s not today.”
“I need to focus.”
“Lance, what did I do?”
“Nothing,” he says, searching the room for his boots.
“You show up after two years, sleep with me, and now you want to leave without so much as a discussion about it?”
“I have to go home and train. You have a show. What’s there to discuss?”
“How about the fact that your last fight was in Lubbock, not New York.”
He still won’t look at me. “I wanted to see you, Harper, is that such a crime?”
“You’re hiding. You refuse to talk about home. There’s more to it than that. And these two days have meant something. What we have—”
His head snaps up, and his eyes pin me. “If you wanted to make me a priority, you had the chance two years ago.”
I swallow. “That was different.”
“How?”
“It was…hard back then. Different circumstances.”
He squares off. “And it’s easy now?”
I give him the truth. “No, it’s not.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons, the first being I can’t just leave. I’m in a show.”
“Exactly,” he shakes his head. “So, there’s no point in getting upset about it. I’m not.”
“Well, that’s apparent. So that’s it? Was last night a goodbye fuck?”
“It was a great couple of days,” he says as if we’re talking about his favorite brand of c
ereal. “Thank you.”
“Are you really saying this—”
“I can’t swing if I’ve got nothing to swing for.” His voice is arctic. “Stupidly, I always hoped our break up was temporary.”
“I felt the same way, I still love you. Lance, please understand I can’t drop everything and go ringside right now. I just…I’ve been working for this my whole life.”
“I’m aware. I’m not arguing with you.”
“So that’s it? Did you get what you want?”
“Far from it. But you don’t want me to ask for what I want. And you can’t give it to me. So why are you acting jaded?” He laces up his boots. “I need to be able to see you, touch you.” He looks up to me from where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I need a commitment. You refused to commit to me then, you had your reasons, I guess. So, commit to me now, right now.”
Awareness pricks up my spine.
He shakes his head ironically at my silence. “You preach a hell of a lot about faith but seem to have none in us, in me.”
“That’s not true. And that sounded a hell of a lot like an ultimatum, not a question.”
“It is an ultimatum. And you’ve made it true. You told me dancing will always come first, and I didn’t listen. But after last night, I can’t be mad at you for it. I can’t.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll take your silence as another no.”
“Damnit, Lance, it’s not that simple—”
His silvery gaze cuts me off mid-sentence. “Just fucking once, I would love to hear you say it was a mistake to leave, to leave me.” The guttural edge to his voice has my heart bottoming out.
“Look how far we’ve both come.”
He closes his eyes, and I know I’ve sealed my fate. His voice gets so low, I barely recognize it. “When I’m on that plane on the way home, and I admit to myself I do know why you won’t commit to me, I think it might just rip the rest of me apart.”
“That’s not it. Not at all. Lance, you’re enough, you’re more than enough, don’t go,” I reach for his face, and he grips my hands between his. “Just one more day. We’ve still got time. If you could just stay one more day!” I’m hysterical and humiliating myself. “Stay. Please stay.”
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 78