Tears rushed into her eyes, filling them so completely that a single blink sent moisture coursing down her cheeks. “I wasn’t good enough. I really tried, Leo. I wanted to stay here. Not just to dance, but for us. I gave it everything and it wasn’t enough.”
What this poor girl had been through. All alone. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and rock her, protect her from the world. From pain and rejection. He might have been given that opportunity last night if he’d heard her out. But it couldn’t be too late. It couldn’t be. “Reese, listen to me. You’re bringing your things to my place. You’ve belonged there all along—we know that. Two weeks isn’t enough for anyone. You can have as much time as you want this way. All the time in the world.”
“Leo.” She laughed without humor. “No. I’m not letting you move some broke, unemployed girl into your apartment.”
“Some broke, unemployed girl?” He echoed in disbelief. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, Reese. You’re a hell of a lot more. You’re the girl I love. I love you. You want an audition with my father? Done. I’ll make it happen today. This is nothing like what happened with Tate. I was so damn wrong to say that. You’re the opposite, sweetheart. You’re the exception to every fucking rule, okay?”
Reese didn’t seem to take a breath for long moments, eventually sucking in a quick one. “I love you, too.” She swiped at her eyes, probably unaware that she’d just sent his heart into a fit of jumping jacks. “But I had to do this on my own. It had to be my talent that got me chosen. Nothing else. I’d never really feel like I earned it. And you’d always question my intentions—”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Oh God, he’d fucked up so badly. Been careless and hurtful with his words. Now her belief in him was unstable. “That’s bullshit, Reese. Listen to me—”
She cut him off with a kiss, flooding his senses with her beloved taste and feel. “I’m sorry. I’m going home,” she whispered against his lips. “I couldn’t make it on my own. And I refuse to rely on your help. I’m not even sure I’d have it in me to try again.”
And he could see that. Could see how utterly deflated she was. It knifed him through the sternum to see her like that. So unlike her usual positive self. He’d ruined his chance to help her through it and now…she’d become unreachable. Buried under the snow bank of disappointment, a lot of which he’d caused. “So we love each other and you’re still leaving.” A spike embedded itself in his gut. “I don’t accept that.”
A honk sounded behind Reese, echoing through the underpass.
They turned around to find the bus driver waving her on impatiently. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t,” he said raggedly, catching her wrist in mid-air when she reached for her suitcase. “You can believe me when I say living with you would make me the happiest man alive, Reese. It’s what I’ve wanted all along. You there, never leaving. You can come home with me and let me make this better.”
“I’m the only one who can do that,” she whispered, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “And I’m out of fuel. I’m sorry.”
There was nothing he could do. That sick realization paralyzed Leo. All he could do was stand there and watch Reese place her baggage in the bus compartment and climb on, pausing to look back at him one last time. Then disappearing from his life in a cloud of exhaust.
Chapter 20
Reese sat in the driver’s seat of her mother’s car in the driveway, hands in her lap, heat blasting out from the vents. “For You Too” by Yo La Tengo was playing for the third time since she’d left Cedar-Boogie. She couldn’t blame the cold for the numbness stealing through her fingertips. They’d been like this for the three weeks since she’d left New York.
She’d taken over half of her mother’s class load at the school and enrolled in night school at the local community college for the upcoming spring semester—and those things, those irons she’d stuck into the fire of her new existence, had stolen the meager energy she had left. Every movement, every thought and response, required acting skills. Pretending she felt normal when she felt anything but, her heart still beating on the floor of a bus terminal back in Manhattan.
Sending the command to her hand to move, she turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car, holding her coat tight to her neck to beat the last dregs of winter. Walked to the house, opened the door and went inside, the scent of her mother’s chicken tortilla soup causing her to half smile despite the constant pain she was living with.
She was desperately in love with a man and he was a thousand miles away.
She’d lost track of the number of times Leo had called her, starting as soon as she was on the bus ride. Not once had she picked up, as much as it hurt. There were no answers to give him. No satisfying ones, anyway. And the functioning part of Reese’s brain knew she was punishing them both because her dreams had been snuffed out, but that was pride for you. That was pride and she had only a little of it left, so she needed to hang on to it.
Her pride didn’t make it any easier to think of what could have been. If she’d just stayed. If she’d let Leo take her home, soothe her wounds and carry her. It probably would have been so easy, because he would have made it that way. But one person relying on the other is no way to have a relationship. They’d already started off on the wrong foot and she couldn’t do them that disservice. No matter how tempting.
Reese paused outside of the kitchen, toeing off the ankle boots she’d put on after class, requiring a moment before facing her mother. With a smile glued to her face, she walked into the kitchen a moment later, finding her mother stirring a pot at the stove.
“Hey, Reese’s Pieces. How was jazz?”
“Good. Full attendance. Little Maxine Weaver is showing some early signs of excelling. We might want to talk to her mother about private classes.”
“I surely will. How exciting.” Her mother made an absent gesture with the spoon. “Something came for you today.”
“Oh.” Reese’s step faltered when she saw the big cardboard box siting on the kitchen table. “What is it?”
“I don’t have X-ray vision,” laughed Lorna. “Open it.”
When she saw the sender, her heart shot up into her throat.
Leo Bexley c/o The Cookie Jar.
Those words blurred her vision. The person, the place, the magic had all been real. There were a few times over the course of the last three weeks where Reese wondered if the whole experience had been a dream.
She circled the box once, chewing on her thumbnail, then went to retrieve a pair of scissors from the junk drawer. After only a slight hesitation, she slit the tape open and peeled back the sides, her pulse spiking at the chance to be close to Leo again in some way.
Cake pops.
Dozens of them, wrapped in cellophane and red bows, carefully packaged with insulated foam and dry ice. Reese pulled out the first one, holding it up to the light. A white outline of a dancer with green frosting making up the background, Bryant Park written in black script. The next one was a pigeon. Representing the afternoon they’d spent on the roof of the Bexley Theater? Another one was a bed with a trail of yellow Z’s sloping and looping around the small edible globe. A nap date cake pop. A furry purple coat, too. And on and on they went, pops commemorating their moments together, the final one simply saying “I love you. I’m sorry.”
Reese unwrapped that one and bit into it, aching for something he’d touched. Wanting to consume it. The red wine and cherries flavor exploded on her tongue, the closest she could come to kissing him, and she closed her eyes to savor the moment.
“Wow.” Reese didn’t even realize her mother was standing behind her until she stroked a hand down Reese’s ponytail. “A lot of effort went into this.”
“Yeah,” Reese said around a full mouth of cake, frosting sticking to her teeth. “A lot.”
“He must miss you as much as you miss him.”
“You’re not helping.” Reese sniffed, reaching for the only cake pop in the box that
wasn’t directly dedicated to her, handing it back over her shoulder. “This one is for you. I told him you’d love maple syrup and crushed macadamia nuts one time when we were lying in bed. We’d just had sex, Mom. Really, really fantastic sex.” She opened the wrapper of another cake pop, this one with kitchen utensils painted on, shoving it into her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. My brain isn’t working properly anymore.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mother took a seat at the table beside her, pushing the box of cake pops out of the way. “Why don’t you just call him?”
“What would I say? Nothing has changed.” She squeezed her eyes shut, his lopsided smile painting itself on the back of her lids. “I’m the girl who couldn’t hack it. Sooner or later, he’d be disappointed in me. At least this way, I’m saving us from that. I’ve already disappointed you and that’s bad enough.”
Her mother’s fingers paused in the middle of unwrapping her cake pop. “What in the damn heck did you just say to me, young lady?”
“Mom, please. I don’t blame you.” Reese flopped back in her chair, gesturing to their general surroundings. “You worked so hard for all of this. Worked overtime to bring me to competitions, buy me costumes, drag me from class to class to class. All those opportunities you afforded me and there’s no reward. Nothing I can give you in return.”
“Reese,” Lorna breathed. “My reward was and will always be your enjoyment. Your happiness that came from dancing. I never cared if you won first or eighth place as long as you wanted to lace up again tomorrow. Because it gave you joy. That’s all a mother wants. Their child to experience joy.”
Reese couldn’t respond, her leg jiggling up and down under the table.
“Oh my, what a fine mess we are,” Lorna laughed, scooting her chair over and pulling Reese’s head down to her bosom. “Do you love dancing, Reese?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her chest twisting. “I love it so much.”
“That right there is my gift. Having the privilege of nurturing that love.”
“Don’t you wish I’d succeeded, though?”
“Success is measured in all kinds of ways, honey. And I think finding something you love as much as you love dancing is a success in itself. There are people who’ll never discover their passion, because they never bothered to look.”
That was true. Wasn’t it? Dancing had enriched her soul, her existence, whether she made it to the top of the game or not. It taught her about herself. Gave her hope and dreams and confidence. Filled her with drive. And even though she never quite reached the heights she’d been hoping for, there was some satisfaction in knowing she’d given something one hundred percent. That, paired with the sincerity of Lorna’s words, started a slow paving over her fears of being a disappointment. It might take a while to pave all of it over, but even a small corner being covered was progress.
“Thanks, Mom.” With some of the weight gone from her shoulders, Reese blew out a shaky breath, her eye drawn back to the box of cake pops. “In that way, I was lucky to find him, too. To know what being in love feels like.”
Her mother groaned. “Call him, Reese. You’re punishing yourself. If he can forgive you for a few fibs, you can forgive yourself for them, too.”
“It’s more than that. I just…” She tried to find the words to describe her hardened resolve. “I just don’t feel whole right now. I don’t feel like me. Leo has his dream, knows exactly what he wants…and I’m reimagining my life right now. Starting from scratch.”
Lorna sighed. “I haven’t met Leo, but…” She flicked the lid of the cardboard box. “Starting from scratch seems like his thing.”
Reese appreciated her mother’s help, but her spirit was too crushed to do anything but walk away from the possibility of hope. Allowing that emotion only caused hurt and disappointment. “Thanks, Mom. But I have to move forward on my own.” She pushed back from the table and stood. “If I used him as a crutch, he’d eventually resent me for it. I’d rather walk away now.”
That wasn’t the entire truth, but it was all she could do. All she’d allow herself.
Reese left the room and threw herself into a hot shower, her face pressed tightly into the crook of her elbow to absorb the sobs. And for the next week, she continued through the motions. Doing chores around the house, grocery shopping, teaching classes, preparing for night classes to begin in March at the local community college. Plowing forward, no matter how daunting it seemed.
She kept expecting the feeling of being out of place to go away. But it didn’t. Every tap class, every jog in the park, made Reese feel like an imposter. An alien life form inhabiting someone else’s body. She couldn’t shake the intuition that she belonged somewhere else entirely and it made every second hurt, no respite in sight.
Missing Leo didn’t get easier.
She dreamed of him nightly, to say nothing of her daydreams, starring him, too. When she slipped into her sheets and closed her eyes, his mouth moved on top of hers, the fingers between her legs belonged to him. In her weaker moments, she longed to call him, hear his baritone in her ear, but somehow she refrained…and the next day, she would miss him even more, her soul running on empty.
A week after the cake pops arrived, Reese stood in front of her beginner’s ballet class, searching for patience for little girls and boys—who seemed mainly interested in giggling over the word fart—when her phone rang. Her pulse skyrocketed, as it did every time her phone rang, Leo’s name appearing on the screen.
It wasn’t Leo’s name this time. However, it was a Manhattan number.
Signaling the class to take a break, Reese answered, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hello. This is Reese Stratton.”
One word out of the caller’s mouth had her recognizing the voice. It was straight out of the worst night of her life. “Miss Stratton, hello. I hope your remember me. This is Emile. You auditioned for me and my peers a month ago. Chicago the musical. Do you recall?”
A laugh snuck out. “Oh yes. I remember very well.”
“Right,” he said slowly. “Bit of a sore spot? Well. We went with the two other dancers, but one of them isn’t working out. She’s just not giving us the energy we were expecting, based on her audition. And honestly, we simply couldn’t stop throwing your name around. You have a severe lack of Broadway experience, but you really embodied the spirit of the show.”
The giggling and scampering feet around her faded into silence until all she could hear was herself struggling for breath. “Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m willing to admit we made a mistake in letting you go.” In the background, she could hear the unmistakable echo of the theater, feet on a stage, music swelling—and yearning welled deeply inside of her. “Have you already signed on with another show or can you be here for rehearsals next week?”
Elation blasted her from all sides. Along with disbelief and gratitude.
Was this real? Was this happening?
She squeezed the phone until it bit into her fingers, shooting pain up to her wrist.
Real. Oh my God.
One thing held her back from total bliss. “You aren’t calling because…I mean, Bernard Bexley or his son, Leo…they didn’t have anything to do with this, did they?”
“You know Bernard Bexley?”
His reaction told Reese everything she needed to know. There’d been no interference. No one greasing the wheels. She’d made them notice her, stood out in their minds. Her acceptance into the fold was coming in a roundabout way, But she’d gotten there eventually—and she was going to seize this chance with both hands.
Not because she was afraid of disappointing her mother or herself.
But because she loved dancing. Because it gave her joy.
In Reese’s excitement, she dropped the phone, immediately falling to her knees to scoop it back up, her body shaking like a leaf. “Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be there.”
When she hung up the phone a few minutes later, her thoughts unerringly landed on Leo
and with the breath back in her lungs, she started making plans.
* * *
Leo slid a fresh tray of éclairs into their slot in the display case, forcing a smile onto his face for the approaching customer. The woman had come in for the first time a week ago and returned every day since on her way home, usually purchasing something for her nanny or dog walker. Or so she said, anyway. Leo highly suspected the desserts were for her.
As badly as he wanted to remain hidden in the back of the store, he worked an hour every day in front. Secretly, uselessly, hoping that doing this thing Reese inspired him to do might bring her back. Or maybe he just wanted to be there if she ever walked in again, her dirty-blonde hair carrying on the warming spring breeze, her smile for him and him alone.
An ache struck him so ruthlessly, he had to support himself on the display case.
God, he missed Reese. Every damn second of every damn day.
He’d sent her away, too. This yawning pit of loneliness was his doing. He replayed his stupid speech—on Valentine’s Day, no less—to her on a constant loop, wishing like hell he could take it all back. Wishing he’d put aside his own hang-ups and looked at her pale face. Her misery. Wishing he’d stopped and listened.
Of course she wasn’t answering his calls. Of course she didn’t leave Port Authority with him and come back to his place, to remain indefinitely. In a matter of minutes, he’d stripped away every layer of security she’d had in their relationship. And that on top of her being rejected for role after role. The poor girl had been hollowed out—and he’d added to that feeling. Now he’d fucking lost her and his own agony was well deserved.
She’d helped him become more confident. Find his voice.
Made him acknowledge his capabilities. Brought joy into his life. Reminded him how to laugh, smile, venture outside of his comfort zone. Hell, her Sweetest Fix idea had given the bakery enough capital for the expansion. They planned on knocking down the wall into the vacant space beside them next month. And what had he done for her in return?
The Sweetest Fix Page 17