“I thought we were past that,” he said with a pained smile, but no obvious limp. She had either not stepped as hard as she thought, or he had a high pain tolerance.
“I’ve had a hard week.”
“One, two, three, pause. Five, six, seven, pause.” His calm counting lulled her into a world where only music, rhythmic back-and-forth steps and Miles existed. When she had found her cadence with the music, he spoke again. “If dancing isn’t helping, we can walk out right now.”
“It’s helping.” A picture was worth a thousand words and Miles’s warm hand in hers was masking all the words and pictures that normally invaded her life. Her daughter’s unknown presence still lurked in the back of her mind, but she was a welcome spirit now, rather than a reminder of her past.
“All right, class...” Their instructor’s hands boomed when he clapped and the students spun to face him. He was a burly man with wild red hair who moved his body like it was silk and walked on the wood floor without a sound. Renia hadn’t thought she’d had a stereotypical image of a salsa dancing instructor in her mind until she’d walked into the studio, seen him and looked for someone else. Served her right for trying to stereotype men who danced. First Miles, now the instructor. “We are going to mix up the basic step with a cross body lead. Men, listen carefully while I explain your steps. Women, it will be your turn next.”
Heat sizzled down her spine when Miles slid his hand around her waist. “Good,” he whispered onto her neck, “I would hate for you not to learn anything new.”
She shivered. The instructor was talking and some students were trying the steps out, but all she could think about was the sound of Miles’s breathing and the feel of his hand on her waist. She jumped when the start of the music jolted her back to the lesson.
“Begin,” the instructor said over the beat.
Miles pulled her around to face him, trailing his fingers up her back as he moved his hands from his waist to her shoulder blade.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” she hissed, mad at herself for being so easily distracted. She’d signed up for these classes to learn how to dance, not to give herself an excuse to have Miles touch her.
Liar, her brain admonished. You want him to have a soft smile for you and heat in his eyes.
He was stirring—had already stirred—feelings in her she’d tried to avoid. Her attempts to flee had been halfhearted at best. She was moving toward him and coming up with excuses why their relationship shouldn’t be scary. Keep telling yourself you won’t get hurt and see how well blinders work for you.
“Rey.” His head was cocked to the side as he spoke and his eyes were worried. “Are you okay? Are you still with us?”
“I wasn’t.” I’m trying to scare myself out of having feelings for you, and it’s not working. “But I’ll pay attention now.”
He squeezed her hand and crushed out her fears. “You’ve already mastered the turn, which is harder than this. We’re going to turn together, while stepping a salsa rhythm. On one, you step back with your right foot and I step forward.”
She followed his lead through the rest of the steps. When they’d completed the move, he’d essentially turned and she’d danced around him. “Neat.” She tried to watch herself in the mirror as they did the move again. But she only ended up missing a step, and putting them both off balance.
“Don’t look in the mirror. Look at me, in my eyes. If you think about the move, you’ll think yourself out of doing it right.”
A great lesson for life, she thought.
Renia’s eyes scanned the room, watching the other couples dancing, laughing and making missteps, until they locked back on his. She had never known ice-blue could be so warm. His fingers tensed into a fist on her back, bunching up the drape of her dress as his eyes locked with hers. Then he smiled and released his fist, his fingers sending electricity from her shoulder blade through to the rest of her body.
“Ready?” He asked.
No, she wanted to scream. She wasn’t ready for anything. Not for her daughter, not for Miles. But she didn’t scream. She only nodded and waited for his count.
“One...”
Her feet tapped out the basic salsa step and, when his hand and posture indicated, she stepped around him. Renia was beginning to feel comfortable in her two basic steps when Miles winked at her and lifted their hands up. Her mind may not have remembered the hint, but her body did. When the count in her head reached five, she stepped into a right turn. When her gaze returned to his at eight, her smile was as wide as his.
“Great job, guys.” From the front of the room, the instructor clapped. “You have anticipated our next move, the basic right turn.”
Pleasure rose in her chest. More than pleasure, she also felt satisfaction and pride in herself. This is why Sarah had looked so happy this afternoon in the studio. She’d tried something new and found success. It had been a long time since Renia had felt this way.
“This couple, what are your names?” the instructor asked.
“Miles and Rey,” Miles answered for them. Renia was too busy feeling proud of herself for remembering the dance move to respond.
“Miles and Rey are going to demonstrate the basic right turn while I explain their steps.” The instructor turned on the music and lowered the sound so he could speak over it. “First, let’s watch them turn and then we’ll break the move down into its steps.”
The music started again. Renia took a deep breath and prepared to be on display.
“Don’t think about the steps,” Miles reminded her. “Just look at me, and follow my lead. Muscle memory. Lots of dancing is just developing the muscle memory.”
She didn’t think once as they demonstrated the turn. She didn’t stumble, step on his foot or miss a step. She wasn’t the photographer, documenting the action from the sidelines. She was part of the group, like she had been in high school before her pregnancy, only no one expected her to drink, have sex or do drugs to stay involved.
The instructor called out the steps as they took them. Miles hammed it up, exaggerating the J he outlined with his hands as he lead her through the steps and pushed her into the turn.
“Okay. Now everyone try.”
The rest of the class tried out the turn while Miles and Renia continued to dance up at the front. Once everyone had practiced all three moves with their own partner, the instructor told them to switch partners.
A heavyset bald man wearing a silly Donald Duck tie took Renia’s hand. She only stepped on his foot once, though he stepped on her toes twice, apologizing profusely each time.
Her next partner was a grumpy-looking young man who glanced resentfully at his girlfriend whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. Renia had to suppress a smile. He might have lovely reasons for taking the classes, but he didn’t love them. The young man jerked on her hand to lead her into a cross body lead. She caught Miles’s eye in the mirror and pranced around her grumpy partner. Miles’s booming laugh made his partner look up from her steps and Renia suddenly felt lighter on her feet.
The class went through three more partner changes before Renia ended up in Miles’s arms again. His hand rested on her shoulder, her dress now dampened with sweat, and he wiped his hand on his pants before taking her hand. “My last partner was a bit nervous.” He jerked his head to the woman who had dragged her grumpy young partner to the class.
“I don’t think either of them are having any fun.” The woman’s smile was forced, while her partner did
n’t bother to smile at all. At one step—misstep—Renia could clearly make out the curse word he aimed at his feet, maybe at his girlfriend. “Did she enjoy herself more while dancing with you?”
“She’s too worried about her boyfriend to enjoy herself.” Miles glided his hand out and Renia prepared for a right turn. “I doubt we’ll see them after the third class. Just keep stepping,” he said as he turned around, switching her hands behind his back.
“You’re a show-off.”
“I’m trying to impress you. Am I succeeding?”
“I’m easily impressed.”
“Good. I hate working.”
“All right, everyone,” the instructor said from the front of the room, “that’s it for today. Practice your moves and we’ll see you next week.”
This evening was supposed to have been a trial and instead she’d laughed. And she’d learned dancing with Miles felt different than dancing with anyone else.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE WAITRESS WAS walking away after taking their food orders when Miles asked Renia about the phone call with the Stahls. Any residual lightness from their salsa lessons evaporated. “I don’t want to talk about it.” True. “I’m still not sure how I feel about the conversation.” Lie. “Let’s talk about you instead.” Dodge.
She not only knew how she felt about the conversation, but she’d also become intimate enough with her feelings to name them. Shame 1, Shame 2 and Shame 3. Shame that her behavior as a teenager was still affecting how people saw her. Shame that she gave away her daughter, and shame that she was ashamed of giving her daughter a better life.
Then there was Shame 4, the shame she still felt for hanging up on her daughter. At any other point in her life, she might let anger drive Shame 1 away, but the other shames were so overwhelming she let them blanket any other emotion.
Knowing you made the right decision and feeling you made the right decision were two completely different things.
By the way Miles raised his eyebrow, he clearly didn’t believe her. But he didn’t contradict her, either. “What do you want to know about me?”
“What do you do?” She knew she sounded suspicious because she was suspicious. He never seemed to go to work.
“I create computer programs that apply statistical pattern recognition algorithms to real-life situations.”
Renia blinked, then laughed. “Well, at least I found something I understand less than my own feelings right now.”
He folded his arms on the table and leaned in, his eyes bright with excitement. “No, listen, you can understand this and it’s really neat. Think of land mines—”
“I prefer not to.”
“They can’t be laid randomly. A person will subconsciously create a pattern and even a computer will make a pattern eventually.” His arms had unfolded and were waving above the table as he talked. “It’s my job to write a computer program that detects the pattern in the mines and then figure out how to use the pattern to find and destroy, or just avoid, them. Pretty much all human behavior creates a pattern eventually. If there is a social ill to that pattern—texting while driving, for example—a computer program can be written to discover the pattern. With a camera and a computer program, you could catch the driver while they’re texting, but before they cause an accident.”
She’d try to figure out what that meant later—with her laptop, the internet and a dictionary. Maybe a math textbook, if she could find one. “Do you work for a company?”
“I work for my own company. I have a couple partners and we have an office outside Atlanta. But most of us work from home.”
“Why are you back in Chicago then?”
He deflated into the back of his chair. “Richard lives here and I didn’t want Sarah to have to choose between a parent in Georgia and a parent in Chicago.” He shrugged. “It was easy enough for me to move.”
“That’s very magnanimous of you.”
His responding smile was stiff.
“What? You and Cathy seem very easy together. You came to her wedding and even got a photo taken with the bride.”
“I’m doing it for Sarah,” he said, shifting his shoulders.
“You still look like the happiest blended family I’ve ever seen. Isn’t Sarah supposed to resent Richard, or Cathy, or you?”
“Greek salad for you,” the waitress said as she placed a plate in front of Renia. “And mushroom burger and cheese fries for you. I’ll bring your apple pie out when I clear your plates.” She refilled their water and left.
Renia gestured to Miles’s mound of food. “Are you going to eat all that, and the pie?”
He rubbed his chest and stomach with a self-satisfied smile and raised eyebrows. His broad chest, which tapered into a flat stomach. She’d noticed, even if she didn’t want to.
“You think a body like this just happens?” he asked.
“I assumed a body like that—which is very nice, if you are going to hunt for compliments—came from eating a lot less.”
“I’m not hunting for compliments, but I won’t turn them down. Have any more?”
“We’ll make a trade. I’ll tell you compliments, and you tell me more about yourself. I think the pile of food is supposed to distract me from the fact that you didn’t answer my question.”
Grease dripped from Miles’s burger onto his plate as he lifted the mass to his mouth. Suddenly crisp lettuce and tangy feta cheese didn’t seem like enough food.
“I’m going to eat it. All of it. Except that cheese fry you just stole, hoping I wouldn’t notice. But if it’s going to get me compliments and distract you from digging around in my secrets, I’ll enjoy it even more.” He took an exaggerated bite.
“Well, don’t let it stick in your craw when I keep asking you questions,” she said, and laughed at his clownish frown and chipmunk cheeks stuffed with burger. Served him right for being a ham. “Why are you all so amenable with each other?”
He took a fry and she raised her eyebrow at him. “I’m not stalling, just hungry,” he said, popping the fry in his mouth.
Renia prodded a piece of lettuce with her fork, and stole another fry, careful not to look too closely when he licked salt off his finger.
“We weren’t always so easy with each other. When Cathy left me for Richard, I was angry, and cruel about it. Sarah followed my lead.” He took a sip of his beer. “I moved to Chicago only after my mom told me it was unforgivable to force Sarah to choose between me and Cathy.”
“Cathy left you for Richard?” Sarah had hinted at that, but Renia hadn’t really believed it at the time. Richard...well, Richard just was. He was fine. But Miles rocked Renia’s world off its axis.
Miles cocked his head at her, a fry halfway between the plate and his mouth. “I thought you knew. It’s the only truly selfish thing she’s ever done. Once I stopped feeling so betrayed, I realized I wasn’t even that angry. We weren’t some grand love story. We got married because she got pregnant and I thought it was the right thing to do.”
When Sarah had said Cathy had only ever done one bad thing in her life, Sarah hadn’t meant getting pregnant at eighteen, she’d meant her mom’s affair.
“Is Sarah still angry?”
He swallowed a bite of hamburger. “Does she wish her mom and dad were still married, with a dog and a front porch? Probably. Is that the same as angry? No. She’s a teenager, so her parents are wrong all the time, but we’re no more wrong than her friends’ parents.”
�
�And you’re not still in love with Cathy?” As soon as the question came out of her mouth, Renia wished she’d been able to swallow it unsaid. The answer mattered too much. Maybe turning down his date would have been the right thing to do. He read into her mind and heart. He knew how far to push before making her laugh and letting her relax, but that meant he also knew enough to truly hurt her.
Still, she wanted to explore where this relationship could go. All the nonsense she’d told herself while dancing in his arms was just that—nonsense. Standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, she wanted to jump. Her landing might break her into a million pieces, but there were other possibilities. Maybe she’d hit the ground, somersault and stand up again. Maybe he would catch her. Maybe she could fly.
But she wasn’t stupid. She’d wouldn’t close her eyes and leap if he was still in love with his ex-wife.
“We were never ‘in love.’” A fry drooped as he blocked her interruption with a raised hand. “We were each other’s first, two smart kids who really believed you couldn’t get pregnant the first time. You can, and she did. I married her, joined the army for a paycheck and health insurance and that was that.” He took a bite, chewed and swallowed his fry before continuing.
“I love her because she’s the mother of my child and we had some good years together. But neither of us pretended true love on the first night and we don’t now. It’s why turning Sarah against her was so wrong. I acted like Richard stole something valuable from me, but Cathy was never mine to begin with. We were just using each other until something better came along. Her better just happened to come along first.”
Was his answer sad, or honest? She looked across the restaurant at the couples, families and friends eating their dinners. In the corner, a man whose tanned neck implied a life of work spent outside smiled at the woman across the table from him before reaching over and squeezing her hand. Maybe they were a couple months into their relationship? The Golden Apple wasn’t really a first or second date kind of place; it was a restaurant you went to with someone you were comfortable with. Good food with no pretense.
The First Move Page 12