Rory took that as his cue to dig in, helpfully finishing the rest. “Damn good, if I do say so myself.” He rubbed his belly.
“Thank you. They were delicious.” And thoughtful. And sweet.
“You are most welcome.” He leaned in and kissed her, then stood, taking the cookie sheet with him.
“I’ll do the dishes.”
“I’ve got it.” He glanced toward the hallway. “It’s, uh, probably bettah if you don’t see your kitchen right now.”
No argument there—lying in bed doing nothing trumped cleaning the kitchen any day.
After Rory helped with her antibiotics—he seemed to like helping, so even though she’d reached the point where she could pretty much do it on her own, she let him—Neve began sorting her clothes into four piles. Garbage. Donate. Store at Mom and Dad’s house. Take.
Sometime later her bedroom looked like an indoor tornado had hit. Rory poked his head in. “I fixed the leak under the kitchen sink.”
Same as he’d fixed the drip in the shower. He’d replaced three burned-out lightbulbs and a faulty electrical outlet. The toilet no longer ran, the toaster didn’t randomly shut off midtoast, and the draft around her front door had disappeared. “A girl could get used to having you around.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sorting through my clothes. Nate has a friend moving in here January first. If she likes it maybe she’ll buy it. If not, at least she’ll cover the mortgage payments for a couple of months.”
“So soon?”
She held up a glittery halter top from her party days. “Keep or get rid of?”
“Ummm.” He walked into the room, eyeing the top, trying to appear nonchalant and innocent but looking like a man with an agenda. “Maybe you should try it on for me to make sure it fits.”
Nice try. “Trust me, it fits.” And looks damn good on too. “Keep or get rid of?”
“Keep. Definitely keep.”
“And it’s not so soon, by the way. Thanksgiving is in two days. Luca will be home sixteen days after that. Then I’ll be practicing day and night to get ready. We’ll travel up to Montreal on December twentieth, audition on the twenty-first. Come home to celebrate my new job and Christmas with Nate on the twenty-fifth. Then relocate to Montreal to start rehearsals by January third.”
“What if…?” He picked up one of her more revealing costumes, one with lots of cutouts.
“What if what?” She grabbed it out of his hand and tossed it into the take pile.
“Now, don’t get mad.”
Nothing good ever followed the words “Now, don’t get mad.” Neve looked at him.
“What if, despite all your hard work, you can’t get into the condition you need to be in to perform your best? What if you don’t get picked for the show? What then? Where will you go if Nate’s already rented out your condo?” He looked at her warily, as if she might pounce.
“I will be ready.” She had no choice. “Luca and I will get picked for the show. I will leave this town and start my new life.” She would not allow herself a plan B.
Apparently accepting her response and moving on, Rory pointed to a mound of trashy clothes and shoes. “What pile is this?”
“Rummage.” Maybe a hooker would find something to help her ply her trade. Or some of the outfits definitely had sexy Halloween dress-up potential…for a size 1 woman with size 5 feet.
“I don’t know.” He picked up a pair of silver spike heels and a red spandex micro-miniskirt. “I think you should keep these.”
Nope. “They’re not suitable attire for the new person I’m planning to become.”
He sat down on the bed, still holding the skirt. “And who is that person exactly?”
Someone respectable and likable, a woman with more than two close female friends. Maybe a woman who wore pencil skirts and killer heels to work, a woman a nice guy would ask out on a date and be eager to introduce to his mother. “I’m going to figure her out as I go. It’ll depend on where I wind up and what type of work I find after the show.” After her life as an adagio dancer ended. By the time her commitment with Cirque would end, she’d be twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven, depending on the practice and performance schedule, too old to start over with a new partner, and who else but Luca would put up with her? Besides, with every passing year, staying flexible and in shape was taking more and more effort.
“You could always come to Boston.”
Boston? “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I’m there.”
“Yes. You’re there.” She moved three more leotards to the take pile. “But you spend most of your time working at the family pub with your mother, who hates me, and the rest of your family, who probably think I’m some trashy slut who balled you in the back room of the bar.” Which she had. “I’m trying to escape my past, not revisit it.”
“They do not think you’re some trashy slut.”
But he didn’t even attempt to dispute his mother’s feelings toward her. “Even if they don’t, so what? Why do you want me in Boston? To be your girlfriend? So we could get married someday? How would Mommy feel about that?”
The dumbfounded look on his face told her what she already knew. And yet a tiny part of her had held out hope for a different response, had opened itself up to be hurt by the truth. He didn’t want her for a girlfriend. He’d never marry her. He wanted what every man wanted. “Or do you plan to set me up across town, out of sight, so you can come banging on my door in the middle of the night when you’re drunk and horny?”
“God, Neve.” He stood, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You are just like my mother, turning the littlest thing into a full-blown argument.”
“The littlest thing?” Outrage made her jump to her feet. “This is not the littlest thing.” She jammed her hands onto her hips. “This is my life. My future. And while you may not care about it, I most certainly do.”
He let out a breath. “We’re friends. Of course I care about your future, which is why I’ll clue you in on a little secret, something the new person you’re so hell-bent on becoming should consider.” He leaned in. “Not every man thinks all you’re good for is sex.”
Something about his tone didn’t sit right. “No? Then why did you come here?” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Right. To make sure someone like me wasn’t pregnant with your baby. If that’s the only reason, you should be long gone by now. Yet here you still are. Hmmm. I wonder why?” She tapped her chin with her index finger again. “Could it have something to do with getting me out of your system so you can return home and find a nice suitable girl to bring home to Mommy? If that’s what you’ve been waiting for, then come on, let’s get to it so you can be on your way.” She untied her robe and let it fall off her shoulders to the floor, standing in front of him completely naked.
“Let’s fuck so you can get me out of your system in time to make it home for Thanksgiving. Come on, Rory. You know you want to.”
He shook his head. “No, Neve. At this particular moment in time I do not want to.” He walked to the door. “I’m going for a run.” He glared at her over his shoulder. “Alone.”
Fine.
After the front door slammed shut, the tightness in Neve’s chest eased enough for her to take a decent breath, until it opened again and footsteps pounded in her direction. She picked up her robe and got it on just as an enraged version of Rory she’d never seen before showed up in her doorway, holding a white box of chocolates with a familiar brown bow.
Shit.
“I read the card,” he said. “Maybe you don’t care what these guys have to say, but I do.” He tossed the box onto the floor at her feet. “Adam is wondering why you haven’t returned his calls. He wants to take you out on Friday night. After that he’ll be out of town for a couple of days. So is that why you’ve been bugging me to leave before Thanksgiving? Is having me here interfering with your plans?”
To even suggest…“No, you are not interfering with my
plans.” She had no plans. “Just because Adam wants to go out with me doesn’t mean I want to or will go out with him. And as far as me bugging you to leave before Thanksgiving, you missed spending it with your family last year. That upset you and I didn’t want you to miss it again this year, because of me. But to tell you the truth, right now I don’t care what the hell you do.” She picked up the box of chocolates and flung it at his head. “As long as you don’t do it here. Get the hell out of my house.”
—
Hours later Rory walked up the sidewalk to Neve’s condo, pleased to see the box of chocolates she’d launched at him earlier sitting on the small bench on her neighbor’s porch, one corner crunched in, but otherwise in decent shape. He was even more pleased, and a bit surprised, to not see his clothes and belongings strewn outside waiting for him.
He knocked, wondering if she’d let him in.
He got his answer a few seconds later.
She opened the door, wearing a bright pink sports bra, tight-fitting black spandex stretch pants that stopped just below her knees, her feet bare. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve got a lot going on and I’m stressed. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I understand you’re mad and you have every right to be.”
“I’m sorry too. I acted like an ass.” He handed her a box of dark chocolate–covered almonds from a store he’d passed on his run. “Peace offering.”
“Thank you.” She took the box, then stepped aside to let him in. “Yours is cooling on the stove.”
The smell of fresh peanut brittle filled the air.
No sooner had he turned around after closing the door and kicking off his sneakers than Neve launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist, hugging him close. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the audition. But I have to stay positive. I have to believe I can do it. I won’t let myself consider the possibility I might fail because I can’t fail. This is my chance to get out of here and I’m taking it.”
“I understand. I do.” He kissed the top of her head. “The point I was trying to make is if you ever need a place to run to, even after your show is over, consider Boston. Not only because I’m there, but because it’s a great place to live with lots to see and do.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I don’t know what will happen between us if you come. I don’t have all the answers. But I’d be interested in finding out.”
They stood in each other’s arms, not talking, Rory loving the feel of her, content to stand there until they collapsed from exhaustion, malnutrition, or dehydration, whichever hit first.
But all too soon Neve pulled away. “You have a nice visit with Lil?”
He figured Lil would let her know he’d shown up, then hung around for a while. “It’s not like I know my way around, or have any friends in the area.” Or a car, which left him with limited options when it came to finding a place to hide out for a couple of hours to give him and Neve some much-needed time apart to cool down. “And it’s damn cold outside.” He peeled off his knit hat and gloves. Luckily, he’d worn sweats, but still. Brrrr.
“She said you were a big help.”
Moving boxes, fixing some stuff. No big deal. “Gave me something to do.”
“She mentioned Max’s dad happened to stop by.”
Spouting some nonsense about a lost pair of mittens, but blatantly looking around, and not at all happy to see Rory instead of Neve.
“And that she saw you two talking.”
Actually, Rory had done all the talking. Patrick hadn’t uttered one word, hadn’t argued or put up any fight at all. The weak dick wasn’t man enough to deserve Neve.
“Then later on he called to say Max wouldn’t be returning for classes. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” Not liking this current topic of conversation and where it might lead, Rory decided to change it. “What else did she have to say?”
“Lil wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to lecture me about my temper.” Neve walked to the kitchen and started to wash a pot. “Or give me her opinion.”
Now things were getting interesting. Rory joined her in the kitchen. “Her opinion about what?” He broke off a piece of warm peanut brittle and popped it into his mouth.
“What do you think? Her opinion about you.” She continued scrubbing, not looking at him as she spoke.
“And what’s her opinion of me?”
“You’re a great guy. Handy. Nice to look at.”
“Lil said that?”
“Please. She has eyes. Stop fishing for compliments. You know you’re good-looking.”
“What else did she say?”
Neve shrugged. “That you’re a good catch.”
“Yes, I am,” he teased, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.
Neve turned off the faucet and dropped the pot into the sink, splashing water all over. “I know you are. It’s me who’s the problem here, not you.” And she ran down the hall to her bedroom.
Where the hell had that come from? Things had been going so well and then pow! From out of nowhere…Rory wanted to go after her, to find out what the hell had just happened. But experience with his mother had taught him that giving a woman some time to cool down after an outburst was the best course of action.
After a shower and some more peanut brittle, “My Immortal” by Evanescence, one of his mother’s favorite songs, coming from Neve’s bedroom piqued his curiosity, sending him down the hall to see what she was up to. Finding the door ajar, he took that as an invitation to look, creating a small opening.
Right arm high, left arm low, her back arched and toes pointed, Neve spun around her exercise pole, feet first, like a bird in spiraling flight, graceful, in perfect time with the music, beautiful to watch. Catching the pole with her knee, she did something that had her spinning faster, around and around and around. For her next move she grabbed the pole high, did a little flip, and wound up hanging by her right hand, her left leg perpendicular to the pole, fully extended. Holding her left heel with her left hand, she fully extended her right leg and hung there, in a full split, toes pointed, excellent form. Amazing.
Not raunchy in the least, a talented dancer giving an engaging performance.
Her eyes met his in the mirrored wall and she dropped onto the mat.
He resisted the urge to ask if she should be doing that.
“I guess I owe you another apology.”
He didn’t want to talk about that. “You’re a beautiful dancer.” Mesmerizing, just like Lil had said.
In typical form, Neve waved off his praise. No big deal, at least not to her.
“Would you help me with something?” she asked.
For a chance to watch her up close and in person he’d do “anything.”
“Sit here.” She pointed to the floor. “Indian style or however you’re comfortable, as long as you can give me a stable base.”
A stable base. Right. He crossed his legs, straightened his back, and set his hands on his thighs, elbows locked. “This good?”
“Let’s see.” She placed her hand on the top of his head and pushed. “Whatever happens, do not move. If I start to fall, don’t try to catch me. If I’m hurting you, don’t reposition—tell me and I’ll get down. Okay?”
He nodded.
“No nodding. Hold your head perfectly still.”
“Right. No nodding. Perfectly still. Got it.” He gave her a thumbs-up.
“No moving!” she laughed. “This isn’t going to work.” She stepped away.
“It’s going to work. Get back here.” He concentrated. “No nodding. Perfectly still. No thumbs-up. No trying to catch you if you start to fall.” That’d be a tough one. “Got it.”
“Okay. I usually balance on my left arm, but today I’m going to try it with my right.” The arm without the PICC line. She put her right hand back on the top of his head, moved it around to find a certain spot. “Ready?”
“For any
thing.”
She smiled. Then the smile disappeared and a look of intense focus took over. With a little jump, Neve’s feet left the floor, her full weight—which wasn’t much—balanced on her right hand, which balanced on his head.
He sat straight, not moving, watching her in the mirrored wall.
Right arm and legs perfectly straight, toes pointed, she pushed up into a handstand, then slowly she rolled her body down until both legs straddled her arm in a V. With her left arm, she made tiny corrections in her balance, and Rory felt every one. He had to work hard to let her balance herself as opposed to trying to balance her.
After a few seconds she rolled back up, the epitome of strength and concentration, regained a perfect handstand, then kept going, arching her back, slowly, bringing her pointed toes down toward her head. On Instagram he’d seen a picture of her toes actually reaching her shoulders. Today, despite several attempts, she couldn’t close the approximately six-inch gap to reach her forehead.
Still, unbelievable.
Rory started to feel light-headed and realized he wasn’t breathing. He drew in a shallow breath.
The slight shaking in Neve’s arm grew more pronounced.
“You okay?” he asked, barely moving his lips.
Neve didn’t answer, instead going back up into a one-armed handstand. This time she spread her legs, slowly. About two-thirds of the way down she flinched in pain, closed her legs slightly, then tried again. Same thing happened. “Shit.” She snapped her legs together and dropped to the floor, purposely landing with more weight on her left side than her right, he noticed.
“That was…” No word in his daily vocabulary could adequately describe it. And while he searched his brain to come up with something suitable, she finished with, “Absolutely awful.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He stood, rotating his neck to get the muscles moving. “Between the surgery, then getting sick and winding up in the hospital, I’m guessing it’s the first time you’ve done that in a while.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, shaking out her right arm.
“You’ve got time,” he told her. “You can do this.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Let me help. Let me stay. We can work out together and do more of what we just did. We can go down to Lil’s for more room. What do you say?”
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