The very first time I’d laid eyes on her was like getting hit by a truck. She’d been crossing Main Street as I drove down it, and at that very first glimpse I could have sworn I was seeing Addy. It took everything I had not to wreck my truck as my entire body turned to stone. It wasn’t until she turned and laughed at something someone on the sidewalk said to her that I realized I wasn’t staring at my wife. Where Addy’s eyes shimmered the brightest blue, this woman’s were a soft brown, and her left cheek dimpled as she smiled brightly.
That initial sighting was a pre-cursor to what I’d felt each time I saw her. She was just too big a reminder of what I’d lost, and I had no clue how to act around her. The thought of having to have a one-on-one conversation with Lilly set me on edge in the most uncomfortable way. Unfortunately, it was either sign Sophia up with her or make the drive to Jackson Hole a half hour away every damn time she had a class.
“Yeah,” I finally stated once I realized I’d been silent for too long. “I’ll be sure to check that out.” Reaching for my wallet in my back pocket, I pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the bar top just as Chloe placed my coffee down in front of me. “Thanks for this.” I lifted the cup in my hand in indication. “Have a great day.”
“You too,” she returned with a smile just as I turned and headed for the door with coffee and pastry in hand. I reached my truck parked along the curb and set the cup on the hood so I could pull my keys out of my jacket when something from the corner of my eye caught my attention.
It was still early enough that the sidewalks along Main weren’t crowded, giving me a perfect view into the studio next to Sinful Sweets, and what I saw through the window stole the breath right out of my lungs. Lilly was on the other side of the glass, dancing to a song I couldn’t hear.
But it wasn’t the way she moved, her body as fluid as water, that captured my attention and held it for several long, painful seconds.
No. It was the shattered expression on her face as she danced that called to me the most. It was the very same expression I wore daily for the past three and a half years. In that very instant I felt a kinship to the woman behind the glass, dancing like it was the only thing keeping her going.
Jerking my gaze away from the window, I hit the button on the remote to unlock the door, grabbed my coffee, and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. I threw my truck in reverse with far more aggression than necessary and peeled out as fast as I could, because it was that feeling of kinship that scared me more than anything.
3
Quinn
“Daddy! Daddydaddydaddydaddy!”
I spun around on the sidewalk just as my heart dropped to the ground thinking that something terrible had happened to Sophia in the millisecond of time that had passed since we exited Sinful Sweets. That was the only reasonable explanation she’d have for screaming at the top of her lungs when I was a foot and a half away from her.
“What?!” I shouted back frantically as I crouched down low to her level, my eyes scanning for injury. “What happened? What is it? Are you okay?”
“Daddy, I wanna be a ballerina,” she stated casually, all the hysteria in her voice gone.
“What?!” I barked, feeling like I’d just lost ten years off my life, all for nothing.
She threw her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the dance school right next door. “Please, Daddy? Pleeeeease! It’s all I want in the whole wide world.”
Fuck me, if she was already starting with the female melodramatics at age six, I was screwed as she got older. Standing tall and running a hand through my hair with a heavy sigh, I looked in the direction she was pointing. My heart rate kicked up to an uncomfortable level at the thought of having to go in there and have an actual talk to Lilly — something I’d avoided for two long years — but when I looked down into my little girl’s pleading eyes, I knew I couldn’t say no.
It was totally irrational, this fear I had, but just looking at Lilly stirred something inside me that I would have rather left untapped.
“All right,” I finally relented, earning a shrill scream of excitement as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands.
“Let’s go! Let’s do it now!” Wrapping her little fingers around mine, she gave me a pull, and on slow feet, as though I was being dragged through wet cement, I followed after.
The bell over the door chimed, announcing our presence, and the very first thing my eyes landed on was the pretty blonde standing at the front desk. She was wearing what I could only assume was standard dancing clothes. Unfortunately, the short, tight shorts and spaghetti strap top that clung to her like a second skin made me all too aware of just how amazing her body was.
“Quinn,” Lilly started, her face a mask of surprise to see me standing before her. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
I struggled to keep my expression blank, all the while, unwanted images of the woman before me filtered through my head on warp speed. I wanted to ask her what had her so upset last week, I wanted to know what had made those whiskey-colored eyes look so desolate as she danced that morning with tears streaking down her beautiful face. I wanted to push to find out what had happened in her life that made her look as broken as I felt.
But I wouldn’t do any of that. We weren’t friends, and despite feeling a kindred spirit in her the other morning, I knew staying back was my only option. Because I was drawn to her in a way that was wrong on so many levels.
Luckily, Sophia was so amped up she answered for me. “I wanna be a ballerina!”
With one last quizzical glance in my direction, Lilly turned her sights on Sophia, bending forward and placing her hands on her knees. “You do?” she asked with a brilliant smile that made my stomach tighten. Sophia nodded eagerly. “Well you’re in luck. You’ve come to the right place, because I love turning pretty little girls into ballerinas.”
Sophia looked at her in wide-eyed wonder and asked on a breath, “You do?”
“Uh huh. Tell you what, why don’t you peek through that window right over there,” she pointed to one of the closed doors off the main corridor, “and watch that class for a bit while I talk to your dad about getting you all signed up.”
“Is that a ballerina class?”
Lilly gave a light giggle and I swear to fucking God, I felt it in my gut. “No. That’s a hip-hop class. My girl Samantha teaches it.”
Sophia took off in that direction, and the much needed buffer between me and Lilly disappeared.
“How have you been?” she turned back to me and asked, like we were long-time friends. I couldn’t really blame her, we knew each other by association considering our friends were married to each other.
I opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself, thinking the best option was to keep my answers short and sweet, to the point to move this along so I could get the hell out of there, I simply stated, “Good. Busy.”
One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Have you talked to Ethan lately? Eliza said it’s been a pretty brutal season so far.”
“Nope.” That was a lie. I’d talked to Ethan just the other night, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Uh...” She looked off to the side like she was trying to think of something, anything she could say to break through my animatronic behavior. “How are things at the fire department?”
“Fine.”
She let out a small, defeated sigh, and I knew she’d finally given up on small-talk and was resigned to getting down to business. Christ, why did she have to be so goddamn pretty? And why the fuck did she have to remind me of Addison? “So, has Sophia ever been in dance class before?”
“No.” And I was willing to admit that my tone came out gruffer than I had intended.
Her head jerked back just a bit, and I knew she read the tension in my voice. “Well that’s all right. We have beginner, intermediate, and advanced level classes for every style. We could put Sophia in the beginner class to start with to gauge her skill level. If need be, she’ll stay there until it’s time for
her to advance to the next class. We have three teachers here. I handle the Classic Style classes. Samantha teaches the Street Style ones, and Kyle handles our Latin Ballroom and Jazz.”
It was like she was speaking in a different language. “I don’t know what any of that means. I just need to enroll her in the beginner’s ballet class. I don’t really care about any of the other stuff.” Yes, I sounded like an asshole. I was well aware of that, but I couldn’t help it. It was like I didn’t know how to fucking function around her. I forgot how to behave like a normal member of society.
“Uh… okay,” she dragged out, her face pinched in confusion and a little bit of anger. “I’m sorry, but… have I done something to offend you?”
“Nope.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, keeping my tone flat as I added, “Just got things to do is all.”
She looked like she wanted to push, possibly go off on me for being a dick. Instead, she sighed and walked around the back of the front desk, taking a seat in the chair before pulling open a drawer and grabbing a packet of papers. “Fine. Just fill this out and we’ll get you on your way, since you’re so busy.” There was no missing the sarcasm in her tone, she made it loud and clear, and a large part of me respected the hell out of her for letting me know she wasn’t happy to be taking my shit. “The class schedules and payment information is all listed on the last page. You can leave it on the ledge when you’re done.”
With that, she stood and headed down the hallway, only pausing long enough to touch Sophia’s shoulder and say something that made my little girl laugh. Then she was gone, leaving me feeling guilty for how I’d acted and relieved all at the same time.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
4
Lilly
Well that went well, I thought sarcastically as I collapsed down into my office chair, all the while wondering what the hell Quinn Mallick’s problem was. We’d been living in the same town for two years now, and that was probably the first conversation we’d ever had. And I was pretty sure it was safe to say it hadn’t gone all that well.
It was like talking to a robot. He remained completely emotionless the entire time he looked at me. Dull, lifeless, like he wanted to be anywhere else at that very moment, and having to speak to me in order to enroll his daughter in dance classes was about as much fun for him as a root canal. The only good part of the entire thing was getting to talk with his lively daughter, Sophia. She was absolutely adorable. So unlike her father.
When I wasn’t rambling, I was trying to think of anything I could have possibly done to offend the guy, to the point I was almost obsessing over it.
Hell, who was I kidding? I was obsessing over it. That was why, ten minutes after Quinn left, I was still wracking my brain trying to figure out what wrong I’d done to him in the very limited contact we’d had over the years.
I was so deep in thought that when my cellphone rang on my desk the sound caused me to jump. Rolling my eyes at my own ridiculousness, I snatched my phone up and smiled when I saw the name on the screen.
“Bestie!” I cried out. “I miss you so much!” More than she probably could imagine. Struggling with the knowledge of what was happening to my father all by myself was driving me out of my mind. I was bouncing back and forth between crying my eyes out and being mad at the world at the flip of a switch.
“I miss you too!” Eliza shouted in return. “What are you doing right now? You busy?”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my ankles on the scarred wooden top of my desk. “Not unless sitting in my office with my feet kicked up counts as being busy.”
Her laughter rang through the line and made me smile. “It doesn’t. But it’s good you’re sitting down. I have some news.”
I shot up straight, dropping my feet to the floor. “Oh my God. You’re pregnant!”
“How the hell did you guess that from me saying I had news? Good Lord! You’re like a mind-reading ninja!”
“So it’s true?” I squealed loudly. “You’re preggers?” I began dancing around the office excitedly. If there’d been anyone out in the lobby to witness, they probably would have thought I was having a seizure. “How far along are you?”
“Well…” she dragged out. “I’m actually thirteen weeks.”
“Thirteen weeks?!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. “And I’m just finding out now?!”
“Calm down, crazy,” she chuckled. “You were my first phone call. I haven’t even called my dad yet. We wanted to wait until we were firmly in the safe zone. It’s our first baby, you know? We talked about it and decided to wait until I was out of the first trimester.”
I stopped and gave that some thought. “Okay, I can see your point. And the fact that I was the very first call means you’re totally forgiven.”
“Just don’t tell my dad you found out first.”
I crossed my heart and held my index and middle finger in the air. Even though she couldn’t see me, I knew she knew I was doing it. “Swear on my life. God, Eliza, I can’t believe you’re gonna have a baby! I’m so happy for you. I wish I was there to celebrate.”
“Well, that just means you’re going to have to get your tight little butt to Denver so you can see the bump I’m already sporting!”
I giggled happily. It was amazing how just one call from my best friend could shine a light on my world when it started growing darker. “You got a deal. I’ll look at my calendar and see when I’m available to come up for a weekend.”
“And I can take you to one of Ethan’s games. Maybe we can get you hooked up with one of his hot teammates. And stop rolling your eyes,” she finished on a scold, knowing damn good and well that was what I was doing at that very moment.
“Yes to the game, no to any blind dates you might be considering in my future.”
“Oh come on!” she whined. “These guys are hot, Lil! I mean like, seriously hot—”
All of a sudden Ethan’s voice could be heard in the background. “Standing right here, baby.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. They’re seriously hot for guys not as good looking as my husband.”
I burst into laughter before saying, “Nice save.”
“I’m clever like a fox,” she giggled. “So you’ll plan to come up here soon?”
“Definitely. I’ll call you as soon as I know what weekend is best.”
“I can’t wait. So, what are you up to for the rest of the evening?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged as I sat back down in my chair, thinking that my lack of plans for the evening was more than a little pathetic for a woman my age. “I’ll probably pick up some wine from Mabel’s and make myself dinner. I found one of your recipes the other day and it sounded really good. Figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Oh no,” Eliza groaned from the other end. “Stay out of the kitchen, unless you’re planning on using the microwave.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked in affront.
“It means you’re a terrible cook, and don’t pretend it’s not true.”
She might have had a point. I wouldn’t be joining the ranks of Master Chef anytime soon, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t figure my way out around a kitchen. “I’m not that bad,” I argued. “I can follow a damn recipe, Eliza. How hard can it be? Besides, there’s no way I’m as terrible as Harlow.”
“No. You’re worse. Harlow’s the one that will make meals that’ll give people dysentery, but you’re the one who’ll burn the house to the ground.”
“That’s not true!” It might have been a little true. “That one time was an accident! And the fire wasn’t that big. You’re exaggerating.”
“Stay out of the kitchen,” she answered dryly.
I didn’t make any promises before ending the phone call. I was going to make dinner for myself, and once I successfully finished, I was going to text her pictures to rub it in her face.
I’d show her.
Okay so maybe I wasn’t going to show her after all.
Honestly, I probably could have gotten the fire out myself, it wasn’t that big, but I’d freaked when I saw the flames and immediately called 911.
“Well, the fire’s out. It was small so there was no real damage, just some nasty smoke. You’ll probably have to air the place out for a while.” Quinn stated as he propped his hands on his hips, staring me down. I tried not to notice how sexy he looked in his tight navy fire department t-shirt and bunker pants, but damn it, it was hard! The man might be an android, but he was still fine as hell. Even with that disapproving scowl on his face.
“Thanks,” I offered in a small voice.
“You got lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”
Rolling my eyes indignantly at his tone of voice, a tone my own father had used on me many times, the embarrassment of my situation started to wear off, and I started to get pissed. “You know, the term self-cleaning oven is really misleading,” I stated in an effort to defend myself. “Calling something self-cleaning when you’re actually supposed to clean it first is just asking for trouble! I have half a mind to write a nasty letter to Maytag and express my displeasure. Oh! And while we’re on the subject—”
“We’re on a subject? I thought you were just ranting.”
I ignored Quinn’s dig and carried on, because yes, I was ranting. And once I started there was no stopping it. “What’s the deal with dishwashers, huh? Dish. Washer. You’d think that would mean it cleans your dishes, right? But noooo. You actually have to scrub all food particles off first or they come out with dried-up crud on them. I’m better off just hiring a person to clean my oven and dishes since the thousand dollar machines meant to clean stuff don’t actually clean!”
Welcome to Pembrooke: The Complete Pembrooke Series Page 43