Our First Dance

by Judy Lynn Hubbard

  “I don’t need you to be concerned about me.” She sighed in irritation. “I’m fine.”

  She really didn’t want to be angry with him. She knew he was worried about her, but she had enough on her mind and her nerves were frayed to breaking. She needed to think and not be hounded by him of all people—not now.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes,” she screamed and ran frustrated fingers through her loose hair. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

  “For one thing—” his nostrils flared “—you can stop shouting at me.”

  “I will—” she placed her hands on her hips “—if you stop badgering me!”

  “Fine!” His lips thinned. “Don’t be late for rehearsal,” he icily ordered and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  She slowly walked to the door to call him back and apologize, but she stopped herself and sat down instead. She didn’t know what she would say to him to explain her short temper except tell him the truth, and she wasn’t ready to do that right now. First, she had to come to grips with her condition and the drastic changes a child would necessitate in her life for herself. Secondly, trying to anticipate his reaction scared her to death—one moment, she thought he would be happy, and the other, she was certain he would feel trapped.

  Her shoulders stiffened when a soft knock sounded on her door. It couldn’t be Damien again, could it? No, he wouldn’t knock so softly—especially not after his heated exit a few seconds ago.

  “Come in.”

  Rachel opened the door and peaked inside. “Are you okay, Natasha?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” She raised her eyes heavenward. “I am so tired of people asking me that!” Realizing she was shouting, she lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” Rachel didn’t look at all convinced. “It’s just that I ran into Damien—actually, he nearly knocked me over,” she amended.

  “We had a little…misunderstanding.” She avoided Rachel’s eyes.

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes, we’ll straighten it out later.” She sat back down in her chair. “I need to finish getting ready.”

  “Okay, but if you need to talk…”

  “I know where to find you.” Natasha sighed and looked up to encounter sympathetic eyes. “Rachel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.” She smiled more genuinely this time.

  “No problem.” Rachel returned her smile. “I think I’d better go and find Damien before he bites someone’s head off—literally.” She chuckled before leaving.

  Natasha thought that sounded like an excellent idea; he was in an extraordinarily foul temper—made so by her unexplained, moody behavior. Sighing, she cradled her aching head in her hands and willed herself to get ready for the long day ahead.

  * * *

  Damien sighed inwardly for what seemed like the fiftieth time this morning. Natasha was in the midst of the worst rehearsal performance he had ever seen her give. He was trying to curb his criticism because, despite her denials, he knew she wasn’t feeling well, but he had to say something—everyone would wonder if he didn’t.

  “Natasha—” he motioned for the music to stop. “Your performance is simply unacceptable.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “Try it again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She danced again and stopped when Damien quickly held up his hand, halting the orchestra once more. She glanced at Erina, who was also frowning at her and Natasha knew she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her coach—and frankly she didn’t deserve any.

  “What is the matter?” Damien frowned.

  Natasha knew he was being kinder than he should. She was dancing horrendously—she and everyone else knew it. Her mind wasn’t on the steps to the ballet, but rather on her unexpected physical state, her pregnancy—that and her argument with Damien this morning was all she seemed capable of thinking about.

  “Natasha!”

  She jumped at Damien’s sharp calling of her name and squared her shoulders, inhaling and exhaling slowly before lifting her eyes to his, in which she saw a mixture of concern and frustration.

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t sir me.” He quickly ascended the stairs to the stage. “What is the matter with you today?”

  “I—don’t know.”

  “Well, I need you to find out before we resume rehearsals,” he tightly ordered and then turned to address the other dancers. “Let’s break for lunch and meet back in an hour and a half.”

  With that, he left the stage without another word to her. Natasha followed his lead and went directly to her dressing room without talking to a soul. She had no sooner made it to her private sanctuary and sat down before Damien walked through the door, closing it pointedly behind him.

  “Natasha, are you still feeling ill?”

  “No, I feel fine.” She sighed.

  “Then what’s wrong?” He sat down beside her. “I’ve never seen you dance as poorly as you did this morning.”

  “I’m just having an off day.” She winced at his criticism. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  He placed a hand on her knee. “Share it with me.”

  Part of her wanted to, part of her was terrified to. He was being so kind and concerned, and she would like nothing better than to fall into his arms and let him make everything all right; but she couldn’t—he couldn’t. She had to come to grips with her situation herself before she could deal with his reactions—whatever they were going to be. She needed some time to herself now more than ever.

  “Damien.” She stood and placed a little distance between them. “I need a break.”

  He frowned and also stood. “Do you want to go home?”

  “No.” She placed a hand to her aching head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Help me to.”

  She stared at him silently for a few seconds before admitting, “I need a break from us.”

  His eyebrow rose. “From us?”

  “Yes, from our personal relationship.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” She shrugged. “I just need it.”

  “That’s not an explanation, Natasha.”

  “It’s not one you want to hear,” she corrected. “Look, I just need some time alone.”

  “Are you angry with me for some reason?”

  “No.” She forced herself to gaze into his confused eyes. “Not at all.”

  “Then I don’t understand. We were fine last night, and this morning out of the blue you decide you need a break?”

  “Yes.”

  “Natasha.” The way he sighed her name conveyed his frustration. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want your apology.” He slowly enunciated his next words. “I want to know what’s wrong with you.”

  “For goodness’ sake, I don’t want to see you for a while. Don’t I have the right to choose who I do and don’t want to spend my free time with?” She paused before verbalizing her next hurtful words. “On top of everything else, do I have to worry about my job being in jeopardy because I need a break from us?”

  His eyes darkened dangerously. His hands slowly balled into tight fists, and he silently counted to ten before he answered her distasteful question.

  “Have I ever made you feel as if you owed me anything for your job—except hard work and a flawless performance?”

  “No,” she softly admitted.

  “Then why the hell would you ask me that?”

  She flinched at his justified rage. “The way you’re behaving, I just wondered.”

  “The way I’m behaving? Natasha…” He took a deep breath and released it noisily. “
Fine, if this is what you want, you’ve got it.” He angrily walked out the door before he said something he would regret.

  Coming to a decision, Natasha picked up her phone and dialed the one person who could help her. She had to do something before she completely alienated the man she loved and every friend she had. She impatiently tapped her fingers on the tabletop while she waited for the phone to be answered.

  “Nicole?” Natasha’s voice was strained. “No, I’m not fine at all. I know it’s short notice, but could you come into Manhattan tonight and sleep over?” She listened and then assured, “I just need to talk to you about something important. I need your wise advice, and please don’t tell Mom and Dad anything is going on with me. Okay?”

  They agreed to meet after rehearsal that night. After she hung up the phone, Natasha prayed for strength to make it through the long hours that remained until this horrendous day would be over.

  * * *

  The remainder of the day was like working in a dynamite factory—everyone was afraid to breathe for fear of igniting a devastating explosion in Damien, who made no pretense of the fact that he was royally pissed. When quitting time came, they all cleared out of the building in record time, especially Natasha. When she arrived home, thankfully Nicole was waiting for her in the lobby.

  Nicole took one look at her sister’s strained face and pulled her into her arms. “Tash, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Nicole.” Natasha held her close again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “From the looks of you, I should have come sooner.” She pulled back and stared at her sad eyes and stressed features. “What is it?”

  “Let’s go upstairs first.” Natasha led her to the elevator, and they didn’t speak again until they were seated on her sofa in her apartment.

  “Now, tell me.” Nicole took both her hands and squeezed comfortingly.

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Just say it, Tash. You don’t have to prepare me for anything. You know that.”

  Taking a deep breath, she took her advice and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

  Nicole’s mouth dropped wide open. “What?”

  “I’m pregnant,” Natasha repeated, a little calmer this time.

  “Oh, Tash.” Nicole smiled and then frowned. “Are you happy about it?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “But I’m also terrified, shocked and frustrated. This is so completely unexpected and…”

  “And you haven’t told Damien,” Nicole finished for her.

  “No.” Her fingers tightened in her sister’s. “What am I going to do?”

  “Tash, you have to tell him,” Nicole urged and then asked in a whisper, “Are you going to keep the baby?”

  “Yes, of course,” she quickly reassured. “I couldn’t live with myself if I had an abortion.”

  “Is guilt the only reason you’re not considering terminating the pregnancy?”

  “No.” She gingerly touched her stomach. “I’m terrified. I don’t know what this will do to my career or my relationship with Damien. But, Nicole, a life is growing inside me,” she concluded in wonder. “It’s not the best time, and part of me wishes I wasn’t pregnant, but I am, and how can I not want our baby?”

  “And you think Damien won’t?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I know he cares about me.” Natasha sighed heavily. “But he still hasn’t said he loves me, and I need to hear those words before I tell him about the baby, because I don’t want him to think I’m using my condition to coerce a confession of love out of him. I don’t want him to think I planned this—that I’m trying to trap him.”

  “He won’t think that, Tash.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’ve told me what he means to you. I’ve seen how you’ve changed because of him, and having seen you two together, I know in my heart you and Damien are meant to be.”

  Natasha chewed her lower lip. “I hope so.”

  “Believe it,” Nicole urged. “Now bounce some pros and cons off me.”

  “All right.” Natasha took a deep breath and began. “My career is definitely a big con. It’s finally taking off in the right direction, and a baby will change all that. I’ll have to stop dancing eventually. The ballet is scheduled for a five-week run, and I should be able to complete that without problems. Even if it’s held over, I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to finish my commitment.”

  “But new projects will have to be put on hold.”

  “Yes. Oh, Nicole, everything is so uncertain. When will I start to show? Will my energy be sapped? How long will I be able to perform?” She squeezed her sister’s hands. “Why did I have to get pregnant now? I love Damien. I do. Having his baby isn’t an unpleasant reality, but the timing simply sucks.”

  Nicole squeezed her hands reassuringly. “That’s just life, Tash. The more you try to plan, the more the universe throws unexpected curves your way that make you reevaluate everything.”

  Despite her angst, Natasha smiled. “Are you sure you didn’t major in philosophy instead of fashion design?”

  “You know I’m a pragmatist.” Nicole chuckled. “Now give me another con.”

  “That’s not hard—what do I know about being a mother?”

  Nicole laughed. “More than you realize, and what you don’t know you’ll learn, just as millions of mothers before you have.”

  “I suppose,” Natasha tentatively agreed. “What about Damien? I don’t know how to tell him, and I’m terrified he’ll blame me for getting pregnant.”

  “First, you simply have to tell him, because he deserves to know,” Nicole calmly informed. “Second, it takes two to make a baby—you both share the responsibility.”

  “You’re right, but I told him I was on the pill, and I forgot to take it on time—that one little mishap resulted in my becoming pregnant. I still can’t believe that. How could I forget to take my pill on time? I never forget anything. What if he thinks I did it on purpose?”

  “Did you make him forget to wear a condom?”

  Natasha blushed at Nicole’s blunt question. “No.”

  “Then, case closed,” Nicole quickly dismissed. “Any more cons?”

  Natasha shook her head. “I’ve listed the major ones.”

  “Then give me some pros.”

  “There’s a little life growing inside of me that Damien and I made.” Natasha smiled wonderingly and touched her stomach. “Despite everything, I love him already.”

  Nicole shared her smile. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

  “Yes, and Mom, Dad and Damien’s parents are going to be grandparents,” Natasha added. “This baby will be surrounded by love.”

  “He or she will.”

  “Damien will be a wonderful father.” Natasha’s smile blossomed. “I can just see him teaching the baby to skate and ride a horse and play ball. He’ll spoil him rotten.” She laughed.

  “So will his mother,” Nicole predicted.

  “Of course I will,” Natasha promised with a laugh.

  “And when you and Damien need a break, you’ll have no shortage of volunteers for babysitting duties.”

  “Can’t you see Momma loading me down with baby food recipes?”

  “And Daddy will want to paint hundreds of portraits of his grandchild.”

  They shared a good laugh over the fuss their parents would undoubtedly make over their first grandchild. In a few seconds, tears of happiness were running down Natasha’s cheeks.

  “Well, I think the pros far outweigh the cons,” Nicole judged. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m very lucky to have such a great sister. Thank you for coming, Nicole. I feel so much better talking things over with to you face-to-face.”

  “You’r
e welcome. I can stay as long as you need me to.”

  “Can you go into rehearsal for me tomorrow?” Natasha half joked.

  Nicole laughed. “I could, but if you value your job, I wouldn’t recommend it.” She paused before asking, “Are you so afraid of seeing Damien?”

  “Yes, but only because I hurt him so today, Nicole. I know I did, but I couldn’t help it. I was just so overwhelmed—I still am. I still have a lot to think about, but I don’t want to lose Damien—of that I’m certain.”

  “You won’t.” Nicole pulled her into a comforting hug. “Damien will be there when you’re ready to talk to him. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to, Tash.”

  “I hope so.”

  Natasha silently prayed her sister was correct; however, why when everything was at long last going so right, had the rug been unceremoniously yanked out from under her feet? The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of irony.

  Chapter 13

  Damien stared out the glass balcony doors, which had become a nightly ritual during the past week, twirling an untasted glass of bourbon in his hands; the amber liquid sloshed haphazardly against the sides, threatening to spill on the polished wood floor. He and Natasha had spoken very little during the past week, except relating to work. Her performance was back to excellent levels, and he supposed she was right. She just needed some time away from him—a fact that still irked him.

  He turned toward the elevator as he waited for his unwelcome visitor to arrive. He had been tempted to tell her to go away, but she would just keep coming back, so he’d get it over and be done with it now.

  “Damien, what’s going on?” Rachel cut to the chase as she stepped off the elevator into his penthouse.

  “Hi, Rachel, how are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Rachel refused to be put off by his sarcasm, “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m good.”

  “You are not.” She placed her hands on her hips. “You’ve been an absolute terror since you and Natasha stopped seeing each other.” Her hand rose to stay his response. “And please, no more denials that you and Natasha have been intimate. I give you kudos. You two have behaved flawlessly and appropriately in public, but anyone who really knows you—like me—has noticed the change in your relationship since Saratoga Springs.”