Knitting a Broken Heart Back Together

by Ari McKay

  “Maybe you want to get those invoices ready tonight, but since we never send them out before the tenth, they don’t need to be,” she said firmly.

  “I don’t have the project with me,” he said, making one last feeble attempt to get out of it.

  “Then we’ll stop at your place to get it on the way. Let’s go.”

  Which was how he found himself back at Stitchin’ Time, surrounded by older ladies who fussed over him and offered tea and cookies. It was a minor form of hell, because all the displays in the shop were for red, pink, and white yarn and “romantic” patterns with heart-based themes. The Valentine’s Day decor was offset a little bit by more generic spring-oriented yarn colors and patterns for warm weather garments, plus there was a pot full of knitted flowers on the counter, but there was still too much romance for Tomy’s liking.

  He was also embarrassed because he’d made very little progress on the scarf. He appreciated that Jason had gone to the trouble of dyeing yarn just for him and even given him a pair of starter needles, and he didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but he hadn’t clicked with knitting yet. The ribbing pattern was simple enough, especially once they’d explained to him that K2 P2 referred to stitches, not rows, but he had maybe two inches of scarf on his needles. Reluctantly, he pulled the project out of the little canvas bag he’d stashed it in and got back to work, trying to tune out all the cheerful chatter going on around him.

  “So how are you doing?” Jason dropped down into an empty chair beside Tomy and smiled in welcome.

  “Fine,” Tomy replied with a noncommittal shrug. He’d just had to run the “how are you” gauntlet with the well-meaning ladies of the class, and he wasn’t eager to return to the starting line.

  “How are things at the dance studio?” Jason seemed unfazed by Tomy’s withdrawal. “Keeping you pretty busy?”

  “I’m keeping myself busy. There’s always something that needs to be done.”

  “He’s working too much,” Ana Lucia interjected with a disapproving look at Tomy. “He’s using the studio to fill the void.”

  “It helps to have something to do,” Jason said quietly. “You seem to be getting the hang of knitting, though. Your stitches are pretty even for someone who’s just started.”

  Tomy regarded his small swatch of knitting with a critical eye. “I suppose so. As you can see, I haven’t done much in the past month.”

  “Well, you’ve been busy,” Jason replied. “I’m just glad to see you here tonight.”

  “Only because of my mother,” Tomy said with a little grimace. “If it were up to me, I’d rather be home, where I’m guaranteed not to see any heart-shaped decorations, or at work getting things done. I’ll just be glad when Valentine’s Day is over.”

  “Understandable. But I’m still glad you’re here. It means you haven’t given up.” The way Jason said it seemed to imply he meant more than simply Tomy’s efforts on the knitting.

  “All it means is that my mother thinks I should do something other than work once in a while, and this is the least depressing option.” Tomy felt a little twinge of guilt for being snappish, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear about how he shouldn’t give up on love and romance from anyone else. His family had been lecturing him about it enough.

  “Well, I hope it’s at least better than going to the dentist.” Jason didn’t seem perturbed by his tone. “Or sitting in the dark listening to country music and swilling bourbon.” He shivered. “Listening to country music is bad enough when you’re feeling happy and cheerful.”

  “I’m past the country music and bourbon stage.” Tomy picked up the needles and began to work again. “Now I’m working on making the adjustment to being single again.”

  Jason nodded. “That’s progress. One day at a time, eh?”

  “So they tell me.”

  “But you don’t believe it.”

  Tomy didn’t answer right away, considering the not-quite-a-question before responding. “I’ve heard all the pep-talk platitudes. I’m getting tired of hearing them, actually,” he said at last. “What I believe is that one day, I won’t miss him. I won’t be angry at him, and I’ll stop wondering if there was something I could have done differently or if our whole relationship meant so little to him that this outcome was inevitable. I’ll stop wondering how I could have been so blind and stupid. But that day is a lot of days away. In the meantime, I want to focus on my work so I don’t feel like I’m just wasting or marking time. So yeah, I guess it is just one day at a time until I reach the point that I don’t hate him or myself, and I can get on with my life.”

  “That makes sense,” Jason said. “I hope for your sake that ‘one day’ comes soon.”

  “Me too,” Tomy replied, releasing a quiet sigh as he turned his attention back to the scarf.

  Right now, he couldn’t really look far enough ahead to see “one day.” He just wanted to get through Valentine’s Day with his sanity intact. After that, maybe the rest of the year would take care of itself.

  Chapter Four

  THE WALK from Stitchin’ Time to Peralta’s Ballroom Dance Studio was a short and pleasant one, and Jason took the time to enjoy it, savoring weather that was warm for March. When he arrived, he stood looking up at the building, which was an older architectural style than the one his shop occupied. It had been updated and renovated, but it still held some of the charm of similar buildings from its era. Jason knew the studio itself had been in the same location for more than sixty years, started by Tomy’s grandparents in the 1940s, back when nearly everyone knew how to dance because dancing was a huge part of the social scene.

  While other schools had branched out into ballet, jazz, and tap instruction to supplement the shrinking clientele for ballroom, Peralta’s had remained true to its origins. Ana Lucia Peralta had told Jason all about it when he’d inquired whether she thought Tomy might be willing to take him on as a pupil, and he could see the family was proud of their profession and intended to keep the school a family business in the truest sense of the meaning.

  Jason knew he was procrastinating, but he was nervous. He was about to take his first proactive step toward courting Tomy, and he knew there was a chance Tomy might not be interested in him. At all.

  It was now three months since Tomy and his boyfriend had split up, and at the March knitting class two weeks before, Tomy had seemed less tense and withdrawn than he had at the previous two sessions. He still wasn’t working on his knitting outside of class, but Jason could see that time was finally working its healing magic on Tomy. Jason was certain Tomy wasn’t ready to consider dating yet, but when he was ready, Jason wanted to be in a position to have his place in line reserved. He wasn’t going to push Tomy, but he did want to spend time with him, get to know him better, and watch for the glimpses of the vital, happy man he’d met in December to reappear. If there was anything he could do to help Tomy heal faster, he was more than happy to do it.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the door to the studio and stepped inside. The interior was cool, the light muted, and the first thing Jason saw was a series of poster-size photographs of couples dressed in flashy costumes, caught in the middle of lifts, dips, and spins. There were pictures with Tomy and Lola, and a much younger Ana Lucia dancing with a gorgeous man who had to be Tomy’s father. Other photos showed men and women who bore a strong resemblance to Tomy, no doubt cousins. There were even older photos where a man who could only be Tomy’s grandfather held a woman in his arms, his smoldering gaze making Jason stop dead in his tracks, staring back in fascination. There was something mesmerizing about those dark eyes, and Jason felt it even from a flat image removed six decades from him in time. He wondered what would happen if Tomy ever looked at him like that. He’d probably burst into flames where he stood.

  “Isn’t he amazing?”

  Jason turned to find a young woman—from her looks, she must be one of Tomy’s cousins—looking at him from behind a reception desk. She was smiling, her dark eyes warm and lively
in her attractive face.

  “Yes, indeed. Grandfather Peralta, I assume?”

  “Oh yes. He was a remarkable dancer. I’ve watched films of him back at his peak. He’s probably one of the best ever.” There was pride in her voice and justifiably so.

  “I can believe it,” Jason replied. “I’m here to see Tomy Peralta, actually. Can you tell me if he’s here?”

  He should be in his office working, according to Ana Lucia. She’d given Jason a wide smile when he’d asked her if she thought Tomy would be willing to take him on as a private student. She thought it was a wonderful idea, and she assured him Tomy would be thrilled to do it. Jason wouldn’t have gone that far himself, but he hoped Tomy would be willing to do it and not boot Jason out on his ear, especially since Jason had an ulterior motive in taking dance lessons.

  “Yes, he’s in his office.” She rose gracefully to her feet and beckoned for Jason to follow her.

  There was a hallway extending back from the reception desk, doors lining it to either side. Jason could hear music, and voices calling out steps. He recognized the strains of a waltz at once, but in other cases he wasn’t sure if the strong Latin beats were for a samba, a rhumba, or something he’d never even heard of before. Finally she stopped in front of one door near the end and knocked before sticking her head in.

  “Tomy, you have a visitor,” she said, then added something low and soft in Spanish that Jason couldn’t understand before moving out of Jason’s way. “Go on in.”

  “Thanks.” Jason smiled at her, then stepped into Tomy’s office, which was small but tidy.

  The desk took up most of the space, but there was room for a couple of chairs across from Tomy, and a bookcase on one wall that had a few books and ledgers but was mostly filled with trophies. Jason noticed Tomy rolling his eyes, but the look appeared to be directed at the receptionist rather than him.

  “This is a surprise.” Tomy stood up and directed his attention to Jason. He’d gotten a haircut since the last time Jason had seen him, and his dark curls were less unruly. Dressed in tight black trousers and a loose black pullover, he looked taller and more imposing than usual. “What brings you by the studio?”

  Jason smiled and held out his hand. “I wanted to find out if you would be willing to accept me as a private student. My sister’s wedding is in June, and I’ve been informed by my mother that it would be a huge blot on the family honor if I don’t dance with every single one of the great-aunts, aunts, cousins, and nieces in the family, in addition to every female guest.” He widened his eyes, giving Tomy a beseeching look. “Please say you’ll help me. Otherwise the Winters’s family name will be sullied beyond redemption and my mother will never let me hear the end of it!”

  Tomy rolled his eyes again as he shook Jason’s hand, and this time, it was directed at Jason. “Somehow I doubt the situation is that dire, but if you need a few lessons on how to waltz or whatever, I’ll teach you.”

  Jason felt a tingle of awareness when Tomy’s palm touched his, but he reluctantly released it so that Tomy wouldn’t become uncomfortable. “This is going to be a big, social, Southern wedding,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “My sister is marrying someone from an old, rich Atlanta family. She’s in the Junior League, and this will be an event, if you know what I mean. If I were to step on the Mayor’s wife’s toes, I might have to sell up and move to Birmingham.”

  Tomy nodded, his expression turning sympathetic. “One of those weddings. Gotcha. Well, I can whip you into shape easily enough. By the time the big day rolls around, not only will you not step on anyone’s toes, you’ll be the boss of the dance floor.”

  “If you can do that, you’ll be my hero,” Jason said. “I’ve never tried to dance in my life, and I’m tall enough that most women seem tiny to me. If you can’t teach me, I’m going to have to either fake an illness or break a leg.”

  “If I can’t teach you, I’ll be the one packing up and moving in shame.” Tomy gazed up at him, hands braced on his hips. “When do you want to get started?”

  It was all Jason could do not to pump his arm in jubilation. “As soon as possible, I suppose. I’m willing to work around your schedule. Mom has been after me to hire a shop assistant for over a year, and I finally did it, so now I have someone to mind the store while I take lessons.”

  Tomy sat down and turned to his computer, pulling up a calendar. “Well, what are you doing for the next hour? I don’t have a class until three. I was just doing some paperwork until then, nothing urgent.”

  “I’m all yours,” Jason replied. He was surprised they would be starting so quickly, but not displeased.

  Tomy logged off his computer and stood up again. As he skirted around the desk, Jason could see that his black trousers were indeed quite tight, showing off Tomy’s firm ass and thighs, and he wore shiny black shoes with a slight heel.

  “We’ll go to one of the small practice rooms,” Tomy said as he led Jason out of his office and down the hall. “We won’t need a lot of space unless you plan on incorporating lifts.”

  “Lifts?” Jason stopped dead in his tracks. “Um… you’re joking, right? I sure hope so, because I just had this awful mental image of me picking up Mrs. Blandston-Hughes and putting her head through one of the country club’s crystal chandeliers.”

  Tomy glanced back at him and stopped as well, looking amused. “Yeah, I’m joking. We don’t want to cross the line between good enough not to disgrace yourself and blatantly showing off.”

  “Definitely,” Jason replied, smiling widely. “You’re going to have your hands full as it is. Might as well not push our luck when it comes to relying on my grace and flexibility.”

  “You can’t be too clumsy, not if you were a football player. That requires a certain amount of agility,” Tomy pointed out as he headed to a door on the left, unlocked it, and gestured Jason inside. “Even with your knee, you’ve got some innate ability to call on, I’m sure.”

  “I sure hope so. But I suppose we won’t know until I try.” Jason stepped into the room, not surprised to find one wall lined with mirrors with a barre affixed in front of them. Another wall held windows, and the floor was solid wood, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet. The ceiling was high enough to accommodate the lifts Tomy had mentioned.

  “Okay, what kind of dances did you want to learn?” Tomy asked as he went over to the stereo system in the corner and turned it on. “We can keep it basic, or we can get as fancy as you’re comfortable with, depending on how much you want to impress the Junior League crowd.”

  Jason considered. “Definitely the waltz and the fox-trot,” he said slowly. “I’m not necessarily looking to impress the crowd, but maybe a tango? I’ve always thought that was an incredibly sexy dance.”

  “We can do that.” Tomy nodded. “You’ll probably be able to dance the waltz with anyone there. The fox-trot might be a bit trickier, but you can lead a decent partner through it if you’re confident enough. The tango… sexy, yes, but you’ll need a strong partner.”

  “Right.” Jason drew in a deep breath. “What do you want me to do first? Oh, and what should I wear for lessons?” He glanced appreciatively at Tomy’s tight pants. “I’m tempted to get a pair of pants like yours for the wedding. My sister would freak.”

  Tomy’s gaze flicked briefly to Jason’s hips, and a faint hint of pink stained his cheeks. “I think if you showed up wearing a pair of these, not only would your sister freak, but you’d give half the women the vapors and have the other half stalking you all night.”

  “Well, I sure don’t want any women stalking me.” Jason chuckled, pleased Tomy had looked at him like that. “I guess it’s a boring old tux for me, then. Okay. So… you’re the boss, Boss.”

  “Since you’ll be wearing a tux, I’d suggest wearing something comparable to practice in. That way you’ll have a better sense of how limited your flexibility will be at the actual event than if you wear something loose, like sweatpants,” Tomy said, busying himself with flippi
ng through a stack of CDs.

  “Got it. Actually, I can wear the pants from the tux I own now. They should be close enough to the one I’ll be wearing to the wedding. Thank God Mom talked Jennifer out of white tuxes for the guys.” He shuddered. “Can you imagine wearing a white tux and trying to eat a meal without dropping something on yourself?”

  “That’s just asking for problems,” Tomy agreed. He put a CD in the player, but he didn’t start the music just yet. Instead, he moved to the center of the room and beckoned Jason to join him. “Okay, we’re going to start with the waltz. The steps are simple. The challenge is executing them with grace and elegance.”

  Jason paid close attention. “Grace and elegance. Got it,” he said. “I remember this one from the movies. One-two-three, one-two-three, right?”

  “Exactly.” Tomy nodded, seeming pleased that Jason had some familiarity with the dance. “Like I said, the steps are pretty simple, but you can spice things up with how and where you move on the floor. For now, we’ll stick with the basics, and I’ll show you how to embellish later.”

  “Sounds good to me. Okay, I’m ready when you are.”

  “You’ll have to lead at the wedding, so we’re going to start you off leading. That way, you won’t have to unlearn anything.” Tomy reached for Jason’s hands and placed them. “This is how you’ll hold your partner. Close enough that you’ll feel comfortable and in control of your movements, but leave some room for Jesus, as my grandmother used to say. We’ll get up close and personal with the tango,” Tomy added, a light, almost teasing note in his voice.

  It wasn’t a close hold, but it was the closest he’d ever been to Tomy, and Jason had to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. He could feel the warmth radiating from Tomy’s body, and he caught the subtle, spicy scent of Tomy’s shampoo. It was tempting to lean closer, but Jason reminded himself sternly that Tomy was still recovering from a broken heart. Moving too fast would scare him off, and that was the last thing Jason wanted to do.