“What … what do you want, then?”
I smiled, and even though I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I knew I looked evil. “You’ll see.”
I whirled on my heels and started for the front door. Breakfast be damned. I could buy something to eat later.
“Where you going?” My mother followed me. “It’s eight in the morning. On a Sunday.”
“I’ve got things to do,” I said, reaching for the knob. Before opening it, I turned to her and faced her. I remembered the exact moment she had the opportunity to delete Josh’s message. While I was practicing in our studio, while she was drilling me about dancing perfectly, as if perfection was achievable. My phone had rung and when she saw Josh’s name on the screen, she’d said it was her phone ringing, and that she had to get the call. So she stepped out of the studio and heard the message that was meant for me. “Tell me what Josh said in his message.” Her lips pressed together, my mother shook her head. My vision turned red and I fought back the urge to rip the answer out of her. “You’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve let things go before, but this is crossing the line. If you don’t tell me what he said, I may never be able to forgive you.”
She let out a long, tired breath. “He said he had just spoken to his sister, who told him about his father’s heart attack. He was packing to go home to see how his mother and his sister were holding up. And he said that he wanted to speak to you before he left. He wanted to say he was sorry for your argument, that he didn’t mean the things that he had said to you, and that he missed you.”
Tears brimmed in my eyes as a new wave of rage and frustration rolled through me. My mother had kept all that from me. How could I trust her ever again?
Without a word, I left her apartment.
***
Josh
It was only fucking Tuesday.
My father had been home for a few days now and he was already getting on everyone’s nerves. He wasn’t used to being bed-ridden and depending on others. At least the only time I had to deal with him was when I got home from work and gave him a detailed report about the day. Because he insisted on those, even if he was supposed to be resting, stress-free. I soothed my conscience with the fact that not telling him would stress him out even more.
I had finished a phone conference when my father’s secretary leaned in the office door and smiled at me. “Mr. Connelly, there’s someone here to see you.”
I glanced at my calendar. “I don’t have any more appointments this afternoon.”
“I know, sir, but she came in and said she would like to talk to you.”
“She?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Rayna Monroe.”
The world stopped. I fought the urge to rub at my ears, to make sure I was hearing right. “Did you say Rayna Monroe?”
“Yes, sir.”
My throat went dry. I tried to clear it. “Hm, send her in, please.”
The secretary nodded and left the room. Uneasy, I stood and checked my clothes. I looked way too much like a serious business man. And I hated it. I hated what I had become and I hated that Rayna was about to see me like this.
***
Rayna
My hands shook as I followed the secretary down the hallway behind her desk, and then turned a right into a room in the back. She asked me to wait while she went to see if Mr. Connelly was available.
I was so incredibly nervous. This, what I was doing, was new to me. I’d never tried being brave before.
During the two minutes the secretary was gone, I looked down at my clothes. Jeans, blouse, ballet flats—nothing much. Just me being me. I hoped it was enough.
“He’ll see you now,” she said, her tone clipped. She beckoned me to follow her into the hallway.
Butterflies flew in my stomach as I walked down the hallway with her. At the last door, she stopped and motioned for me to go in. Alone. I swallowed my nervousness and stepped into the office.
Josh was standing behind a big mahogany desk, wearing dress pants and a shirt, his hair combed back. I’d never seen him comb it before.
“I must say,” he started, his blue eyes boring into mine. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
I tried to remain calm—in vain. “I admit that I’m surprised too.” He gestured to the chairs across from his desk. I didn’t feel like sitting, but maybe I could control my shaking better that way. I sat down and crossed my legs. “How’s your dad doing?”
Josh sat down on his big leather chair, looking very much like his father’s son. “Better.” His voice was clipped, tense. “He’s home resting. Or at least he should be resting. He can’t wait to get back to work.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “That’s good to hear.”
Tense silence fell over us like a heavy blanket.
A knot appeared between his brows. “What are you doing here, Rayna?”
I let out a long breath. “I wanted to tell you a few things and I thought that face-to-face was better than on the phone,” I confessed, feeling even more nervous than before. He didn’t say anything and I struggled to keep going. Why was this so hard? “My mother had a hand in my acceptance into NYBT after all.”
He shook his head. “To be fair, even if she did, I think you proved you deserve to be there by now. All on your own.”
“Maybe, but I also realized I was living her dream, not mine.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, I already knew that. Even you knew that. I was just too afraid to see it, to admit it. But … I’m not afraid anymore.” I inhaled deeply before continuing. “I moved out of her apartment on Sunday and into Alicia’s.” That had been two days ago. “It’s temporary, just until I find a place of my own. And I quit NYBT.”
His eyes widened and a tiny hope flamed in my heart. “What?”
“Yeah. I guess I finally admitted to myself that I’m not meant for the life of a professional dancer. You knew that too.” One corner of my lips tugged up, remembering.
When I went to talk to Devin McCauley about quitting, he asked me to reconsider and I wondered, out loud, why he was bothering.
“Devin, I know my mother asked you, no, begged you to invite me into the company.”
He sighed. “True, but I knew you had potential, you just needed a push. That’s why I chose you to compete in Chicago. I knew you needed a little faith, a little pat on the back, and I was right. You did great. You proved to me and everyone else that you are NYBT material. I can see you going far.”
But I couldn’t. His words warmed my heart and brought immense relief to my soul, but they didn’t change my decision. I wasn’t happy with the ballerina life. I wanted more.
“What are you going to do now?” Josh asked, bringing me back to the present.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. The only thing I’m sure of is that I won’t keep doing what others expect of me, just because it’s what they want. I’ll do whatever the hell I want to do.” I took a long breath, gathering courage to continue. “But what I really wanted to tell you is that I found out my mother had my phone when you called and left that voice message. She heard it and deleted it, and if it wasn’t for pure dumb luck, I would have never found out about it.”
He crossed his arms. “And you came all this way to tell me that?”
Nausea rolled into my stomach. His reaction was totally unexpected. Damn, why was this so hard? Why was he acting so indifferent?
Swallowing my pride, I said, “The Josh I used to go out with would have been happy for me. He would be proud of me for finally standing up for myself and going after my dreams.” I thought … I thought I wanted to be with him, wherever he was, but with the way he was looking at me, the coldness in his demeanor, I wasn’t so sure I had done the right thing coming all the way here just to have his rejection thrown in my face.
“And what are your dreams?” He remained about as warm and welcoming as a marble statue.
Damn. “I don’t know yet, but I can’t wait to find out.”
His eyes were hard. “Good luck with that.�
�
I fought the urge to gasp, to cry, to yell at him. What the hell was wrong with him?
Shaking even more than when I had come in his office, I stood. “Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking.
Then, I was out of his office and out of the building. By the time I allowed the first tear to fall, I was inside a cab, asking the driver to take me back to the nearest airport.
***
Josh
I counted to one hundred after Rayna walked out of the office. Then, I let out a scream and swept an arm over my father’s desk. Picture frames, a tablet, glass, papers, and calculators crashed on the carpet floor.
The secretary rushed to the door. “What happened?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Get out!” I yelled, marching over the scattered debris. I closed the door in her face, and then punched the wooden frame. A cracking noise echoed in the office and I pulled back, automatically checking for damage, but there was nothing.
Slowly, I inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm my anger and my frustration and fighting my instinct to send everything to hell and go after Rayna.
I wanted to go after her, to hold her, to bury my face in her hair, inhale her sweet scent, and tell her—tell her that I was so happy she had come all this way to see me, to tell me that she had stood up to her mother and quit NYBT.
I closed my hands on the back of my office chair. My knuckles turned white and I gritted my teeth, stifling another scream.
I couldn’t go after her. I couldn’t. I had responsibilities now. Actually, I’d always had them; I just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge them.
Slowly, I regained control over my rage and took a long, long breath.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand being in the office for another second.
As if something clicked in my mind, I remembered my mother was taking my father to a doctor’s appointment in about an hour, to check on his recovery. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to play the good son a little more and meet them there.
One hour later, I was seated it the waiting room of the doctor’s office with both my parents.
My mother beamed at me. “Thanks for coming, dear. It means a lot to us.”
My father didn’t say anything.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the doctor to call us in and soon, my father was seated on an examination bed while the doctor listened to his heart.
“Take a deep breath,” the doctor said. My father did as he was told. After a few more tense minutes, the doctor retreated. “Well, given your history, your heart sounds a lot stronger now.”
“What do you mean, his history?” I asked.
The doctor shrugged, ignoring the look my father sent him. While my father was still in his coma and Mom was still mostly catatonic, I’d managed to get Mom to sign a medical release allowing the doctors to discuss Dad’s history with me. “Because of his weak heart. I told him years ago that he had to slow down and reduce some stress, otherwise he would be suffering heart attacks left and right.”
I gaped at my father. “You knew you had a weak heart?” My father wouldn’t meet my eyes. “For how long?”
“Hm, sorry, did I say something wrong?” the doctor asked, clueless.
“How long has he known about his condition, doctor?” I asked, my gaze still hard on my father.
“For about ten years now, I think,” the doctor said. “Maybe a little more? I would have to check our files.”
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered. Then I looked at my mother. “Did you know about this too?”
“Josh …” was all she said before averting her eyes. Good thing, too, because I was about to explode.
“And here I was, worried sick that I had given you the damned heart attack,” I said, my voice rising.
My father finally lifted his eyes to mine. “For all we know, you did give me the heart attack.”
I shook my finger at him. “Oh no, don’t you dare put this on me now. You knew. You knew your heart was weak and you chose to do nothing. This is all on you.”
I whirled on my heels and marched out of the exam room before I lunged at him and punched him in the nose.
“Josh,” my mother called me, following me out into the hallway. “Where you’re going, dear?”
I didn’t answer as I marched out of the doctor’s office.
Chapter Twenty Four
Rayna
I had been such an idiot. Such a huge idiot.
Wiping a tear from my eyes before it could fall, I attacked the batter in the bowl, mixing the ingredients together with more force than necessary. Let them take my rage, my frustration, the pain in my broken heart.
Alicia entered the small apartment and froze at the open door. “You’re back? Already?” Like me, she thought Josh would welcome me with open arms and I would stay with him for at least a couple of days. My lips trembled and I dropped the bowl on the counter before I dropped it on the floor. Noticing my tears, Alicia kicked the door closed with her foot and rushed to me. “Oh no.” She embraced me and patted my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. Then I nodded. Then I shook my head again. “I don’t know.” I pulled away and wiped new tears that were rolling down my face faster than I could stop them.
She dropped her tote on a stool beside the high kitchen counter. “It’s okay. You don’t need to talk about it.” With a small smile, she reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of wine from deep inside a cabinet.
I gaped at her. “How do you have that?”
“My parents left it here during their last visit,” she said, sounding casual. “I’m not much of a drinker, but I guess some occasions call for it.” She handed me the bottle. “How about you open that while I finish these cookies, and then we can get drunk, eat cookies, and curse the life of boys everywhere.”
A dry chuckle escaped from my lips. “That sounds great.”
***
Josh
I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. As I twisted the cap and took a long swallow, I savored the cold liquid as it washed down my throat. If only the rest of my life were so simple. Maybe if I drank enough …
I shook my head and took another gulp.
After I found out my father knew he had heart problems before the heart attack, I went to a bar and drank two beers, all the while raging about what a bastard my father was. He was upset about how I had lied to them? Well, he had fucking lied to me too! But, after those two beers, I decided that, even though I was relieved I wasn’t the one to blame for his heart attack—not solely, at least—my mother and my sister still needed my help. Dad wasn’t one hundred percent recovered yet, probably never would be. My family needed more, much more than NYBT needed me.
Thinking of ballet always brought Rayna to my mind.
I hadn’t heard from her since she left my father’s office. By now, she was on her way back to New York. And what would she do there? She had quit NYBT. I had no idea what she would do now.
Every time I thought about her, pain spread through my chest and an urge to drop everything and go after her hit me so hard, I didn’t know how I was still standing.
“You’re already home?” my father asked as he entered the kitchen. He was strong enough now that he was able to walk on his own, though at a slow pace. It was hard to see him this way. The big, energetic, and strong man I had always known reduced to this limping, frail shell who looked like he would fall on his face at any second.
I sighed. There he went again, pretending like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t lied to me and let me shoulder the blame for his current state of health. “It’s past six already. Everyone goes home around five.” I didn’t feel like discussing my detour to the bar, or the fact that I hadn’t gone back in the office after his appointment.
“Joshua, you have to set the example. Your employees have to know you dedicate yourself one hundred percent to this job.” I snorted. If only they knew how much I didn’t want to dedicate myself to this job. My fa
ther sighed. “My secretary told me a girl came to see you today.”
I could feel my temper rising and I beat it back. He was in no shape for a knock-down, drag-out fight. “So?”
“My office is not a place to meet your girls, Joshua.”
“It …” I gritted my teeth before continuing, “It wasn’t like that.”
“She told me the girl was called Rayna Monroe. Isn’t that the girl from New York? What was she doing here, Joshua?”
My fists clenched. “That doesn’t concern you.”
“When you meet girls at my office, it does.”
I slapped my hand on the table. “I’m going out of my mind here trying to do what you want, so please, get off my back a little and mind your own damn life.”
He gaped at me. “You, young man, are out of line. You’re in my house, living under my roof, and working at my office. You’re to respect me and my rules!”
My vision hazed as everything, all my pent up anger and fear and frustration, came boiling out. “I do respect you! I respect you so much I gave up everything I love to come back here to help you, and honor your life and your work.”
“Honor me? You never honored me! Not when you ran away, lied to us, betrayed our trust, and became a dancer. A ballet dancer.” His face was painted with rage. “That is shaming our name. Shaming me!”
“Do you even hear yourself? This is the twenty-first century. Men dance ballet. Have for ages, actually. Get over it!”
“Get over it?” His voice escalated. “You wear tights, for goodness sake. How am I supposed to get over that?”
The fear that he could get another heart attack while we argued crossed my mind, but it was overshadowed by the fury and frustration that engulfed me.
He was such a backward prick. Even if I labored sixteen hours a day, six days a week, married a girl from church, and had perfect little children, he would never be truly pleased with how I turned out.
That was when I realized there was nothing I could do to make him proud of me. Nothing.
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