In high school I’d been a runner, middle to long distances. Opening up my stride to accelerate almost felt as comfortable as climbing onto a pair of silks. When Robert and I ran together, I had to monitor my speed. His powerful body and years of gymnastics were good for short bursts, but he couldn’t keep up with me if we went over five miles. I’d promised I wouldn’t be gone for long, not sure when Miranda and Lisa were planning to arrive, so I’d have to turn back soon.
I also needed to talk to Robert about Cirque Celestial—we needed to have a real conversation where we discussed feelings and future plans. It would help if I had some idea of what I wanted to do. Most aerialists would jump at the opportunity to audition for the biggest circus company on the planet. What was holding me back? Why hadn’t I agreed to take the plunge yet?
∞∞∞
My thoughts spurred me on longer than I’d intended, and even though I turned back the moment I realized how far I’d run, I was still gone for almost an hour by the time I got home. I ran up the stairs, calling my apologies and shedding layers with each step. When I reached the landing, I found Robert pressed in a handstand in the middle of the living room, his face red, suggesting he’d been there for a while.
He’d begun to worry at my absence. That was why he was practicing his handstands. It centred him, much like an average person might turn to yoga or simple deep breathing. Of course, I hadn’t brought my phone with me as it bounced around uncomfortably in my jacket pocket, and so he’d had no way to contact me.
“I thought you might have slipped or something, and couldn’t get home,” he said, still balanced on his hands.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, as I tossed my jacket in the direction of the coat stand. I didn’t need to tell Robert about my thoughts during my run. “I lost track of time.”
“You were thinking about Cirque Celestial?” Robert remained upside down, not the slightest sign of a hesitation or wobble.
Instead of answering, I picked up my phone from the coffee table. The message light was blinking. I swiped across the screen to find out who had contacted me: a text from Miranda. Tapping in my code, I called up the message: Plane delayed. Only just got in. Will meet you for dinner. Please send me the address of the restaurant. That was lucky, sort of. My friends were behind schedule, so I didn’t have to race to get dressed, comb my hair, and make myself look semi-presentable for company. The not so lucky bit was that I might have to have that hard conversation now.
Robert slowly lowered his feet, tracing a circle in the air with his toes until he was upright, and his legs hovered an inch or two above the ground. He didn’t look at me. He focused his gaze in front of him. “You’d like to go the audition?”
I crossed the living room and seated myself on the floor near my fiancé, leaning my back on the base of the couch. “What aerialist or acrobat wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know.” At last Robert released himself from his exercise, dropping his fine butt to the carpet. As he drew his legs into a crossed position, he shifted to face me. “Not many, I suppose. You still haven’t told me what you want to do.”
“I want to go,” I said, pausing to take in Robert’s reaction—except there wasn’t much of one. His mouth was drawn in a straight line, his blue eyes looked steadily back at me. At least he didn’t appear to be clenching his jaw, a sure sign of when he was angry. Something about the lack of expression made my nerves hum. I clenched my hands in my lap. “I think at first, if I don’t go, I won’t mind it so much, but as time passes, I’ll start to wonder what I gave up. I’ll start to wonder if I could have made it, what it would be like to perform in a Cirque Celestial show. I’m not happy here. Not really.”
I stopped talking and looked at Robert. His countenance hadn’t changed. Outwardly calm, but inwardly, what?
“I…know,” he said, the corners of his mouth sagging. He took my hand and pressed it gently between his. My fingers were freezing, of course, making his touch feel like a blast from a furnace. “You’re not happy. It’s been clear to me this gig wasn’t working for you since September, at least. Once the summer performances died down and we were in the studio all the time, but you didn’t say anything, you kept going—” Robert stopped and swallowed hard.
“It didn’t seem like I had many other options—”
“We can call it off, there’s still time. Guests are starting to arrive, but we kept it small and you forbade anyone from buying gifts. We haven’t spent all that much—”
“What?” I yanked my hands out of Robert’s so that I could push myself onto my knees and grab my fiancé by his shoulders. When he didn’t respond, I not so gently cupped his chin in my palm and forced him to look at me. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the reason that’s kept me going all this time. You’ve seemed so content here.”
Then, since I had no idea what else to do, I pressed my lips to Robert’s, desperate to demonstrate in any way I could that calling off the wedding was the last thing on my mind. A moment or two passed before he returned my passion, coaxing me forward to straddle his lap. His hands slid underneath the hem of my sweaty running shirt, allowing cool air to hit my skin. I knew from experience it was going to take some effort to disrobe the sticky, tight fitting shirt, so I broke away from Robert long enough to use both my hands peel it from my torso and over my head.
The disconnect was long enough for Robert to scoot back along the floor so he was no longer in arm’s reach. I sat on my heels, quickly cooling now that I was only in a sport bra, staring at my fiancé. Why did I have to get the audition offer now? Where was Mr. Jake Talbot seven, eight months ago when I’d completed my aerial circus residency program? Of course, if I’d gone straight to Cirque Celestial without my painfully brief stint with Circus of Height, I wouldn’t have met Robert.
I could play the what if game for hours.
“I want to get married,” I said, hugging my elbows tightly. “I want to get married to you, in two days, like we planned.”
Robert shifted, so he was on all fours, and crawled toward me. He took one of the blankets from the arm of the sectional and drew it around me. “I’m glad to hear that, love, I want to marry you too. That’s why I asked in the first place.” He kissed me, his lips brushing mine feather soft, then gone again.
“I want you to go to the audition, too. I had my chance to tour and perform, you didn’t, but maybe we should postpone things. It’s not like you’re going off to war. You’re not facing imminent death and we need to get married as fast as possible.”
Now that my body had completely cooled from my run, it refused to warm back up. My fingers stung, and my torso was wracked with a fierce shiver that ran through me from head to toe. “No, I’m not going off to die, but why should we wait? You don’t think I’d meet someone else on a tour, do you?”
A distinct pause settled over us, and Robert very definitely diverted his gaze to the floor. We hadn’t asked many questions of each other when it had come to previous relationships—not that I had many other than Simon. The subject hadn’t been strictly taboo but knowing how things in Circus of Flight had gone, I didn’t feel the need to investigate. I knew Robert had been considered a flirt, Becca had informed me of that the first day we’d met. I also knew when you performed in a travelling circus, relationships tended to be either long-distance trials, or short-term flings with other performers. Couples like our friends Angel and Jackson who share an apparatus, were the exception in my experience.
“I don’t want you to feel bound in any way while you’re out there,” Robert said. He was tracing designs in the rug with his finger.
“While I’m out there.” I drew the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “That’s assuming I’ll even be offered a position.”
“You will.” Robert shifted to pull me to him—which would have helped with the shivering I couldn’t get control over—but I stood to get out of the way. As we both moved, my blanket snagged under Robert’s knee, causing it to dramatically rip from my shoulders as I got to my feet.
>
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, I think.” I rounded the sectional and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower would—hopefully—help me regain control of my body temperature; and it would get me away from this conversation that was going more wrong by the minute.
“Beth.” Robert was a few steps behind me, although he wisely chose not to stop me. I could easily sucker punch him in the gut thanks to the mood I was in. “Love. I’ve seen you perform. You’re good. They’ll want you. I’m just trying to think about the best way for us to proceed through it all.”
“So far it sounds like you’ve been thinking way too hard,” I said, pausing in front of the bathroom, half twisted so I could see Robert’s face.
He stood a few feet away from me, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his head angled toward the floor. He looked…defeated. Did he really think the best thing was to call off the wedding? I’d met his parents this morning. They’d gifted me with a family heirloom. Why hadn’t he said something earlier? Or had it all only occurred to him now, the wedding looming, guesting arriving, and me gone for twice as long as I was supposed to for a simple run? Perhaps we’d both done some serious thinking while I’d been pounding the paths.
“I’m taking a shower,” which must have been obvious, but it was a way to change the discussion. “Miranda and Lisa are late. They’ll meet us at the restaurant—once I text the address. I—” What else could I say? “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
Then I rushed into the bathroom, pulling the door close behind. How long could I hide in here before the water turned cold? Or Robert busted down the door?
Chapter 8
Guilt about wasting water hit me as I meticulously scrubbed every last inch of my five-foot eight-inch frame, prompting me to get out after a mere ten, fifteen minutes tops. The guilt of abandoning Robert in the middle of a tough conversation may have had something to do with it, too. When I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I found him on the sectional, reading an Inside Gymnastics magazine. They’d been piling up all summer and fall. This must be the rare time he had to catch up on whatever kind of articles you found in a gymnastics magazine.
I stood at the end of the couch barely dressed, watching at him, but couldn’t bring myself to drop the towel and draw his attention away from coaching techniques, or some such invigorating topic. By the way his jaw muscles flexed, I suspected he was well aware of my presence, but was doing his best to ignore me. I was no seductress, and make-up sex wasn’t the resolution to this problem, so after a minute or two, I returned to the bedroom and dressed. Back on went the stiff jeans and restrictive blouse. I made sure to put on my engagement ring for good measure.
Dinner with Miranda and Lisa, and Robert’s gymnastics buddies was a couple of hours away and we now had this thing, this suggestion of postponing the wedding, hanging in the air.
I sat on the end of our bed. What was I going to do until dinner? Both of us needed some breathing space, so going back to the living room where Robert was stoically reading through his back issues wasn’t appealing. Stress baking wasn’t my thing, nor was stress cleaning, but my options in a one-bedroom apartment were limited. Pushing myself to a stand, I started with what was closest: a pile of laundry, clean and folded, but still sitting in the basket at the end of the bed.
∞∞∞
We didn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon, not until Robert came to tell me it was time to get ready to go Pizza con Amore. I was kneeling next to the tub, my shirt sleeves rolled above my elbows, determined to scrub the hard water scale off the enamel. In my effort to avoid further conversation, I felt a deep, unquenchable need to make my bathroom shine. My knees, back, and hands ached, but there was a certain gleam about the room that provided me with a smidge of satisfaction.
“Love.” Robert paused at the door and looked around, his lips pressed into the slightest frown.
“Yeah?” I stood and stretched my hands over head, trying to counteract the hunched position I’d worked in for the last half an hour.
“We should get going,” he said, after a lengthy pause where the two of us simply stared at one another.
Had something broken between us?
At lunchtime, things had seemed great or close to it. My soon-to-be-maybe-now-not in-laws were wonderful, loving people who couldn’t wait to welcome me into their family. Then I went out for a run, and when I got back everything was off kilter. Okay. So, I’d admitted that I wanted to attend the Cirque Celestial audition, then Robert had jumped to us not getting married. Not really. My entire reason for hesitating over the audition was that I didn’t want to be separated from Robert after being married for only a few weeks if I got the job. Big if. Right? Cirque Celestial was the best of the best. I wasn’t really that good. Right?
Robert had seemed to think so. Fuck.
We stared at each other, unmoving.
“I love you,” Robert said, as he walked toward me and grabbed my hands. “You know that, right? I didn’t suggest we postpone the wedding because I have cold feet, or I’m feeling insecure after a visit from your ex. I—”
I nodded. “I know.” I squeezed his fingers back. “I love you, too. I’ve been worried about what you would do if I’m offered a position with Cirque Celestial. It’s the reason I’ve not wanted to think about it, because what? Your options are maybe join me on a tour, even if you don’t have a part, or stay here…somewhere…and keep coaching on your own? It’s not the way to start our married life.”
“That’s why I suggested…” Robert and looked down at our hands, intertwined.
My hand with the antique sapphire engagement ring on top. I’d never wear it, or any other ring while I was on tour. To keep it safe, to avoid losing it somewhere between lodging, training centre, or performance venue, I’d leave it behind.
“I’m sure you could come with me,” I said barely above a whisper. “Rachel said that Cirque Celestial is very good to the families of performers—”
“And do what, Beth? I’m nearly thirty-five years old, and I’ve been touring since I was twenty-two. I’ve had my adventures. You’re right, I’ve been very content here. It’s been nice to have a closet instead of a suitcase. Even better to wake up in the same bed, with you beside me, for six months straight. I don’t want to go back out on the road.”
“Well,” I wiggled my hands from Robert’s grasp, crossing them over my chest to keep from fidgeting. “We seem to be misaligned at present.”
Robert mirrored my stance. “So it would seem.”
A stuttering sigh escaped my lips. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was to go out to dinner with friends who’d flown halfway across the country to celebrate my wedding. Thank God we’d kept things small, indeed. Thank God my parents knew nothing this. If we called things off it would be fodder for them to torment me about how I couldn’t keep to any plan I made, and remind me relentlessly of how I’d quit a predominant law school to become a circus artist. Well, at least if I made it into Cirque Celestial there’d be no denying I’d become a circus artist.
∞∞∞
We were the first ones of our party to arrive at the restaurant. After ordering drinks, we sat in silence at the table, each of us checking our phones for messages from our respective friends. What kind of new delights was dinner going to offer us? What else could possibly further complicate our wedding? Maybe an ex of Robert’s could show up? What about my parents or brother? Maybe they could find out and materialize during our ceremony attempt to refuse to allow me to marry? I shouldn’t joke. Not that they could revoke permission for me to do anything—but they still might try.
I did my best to take tiny sips of my wine while I scrolled through my messages. Nothing since the afternoon.
Miranda and Lisa arrived five minutes after our drinks did. When I caught sight of the tall blond and the petite brunette approaching the table, I leapt from my seat, weaving through the other diners to reach them. We shared a round of hugs, kissing cheeks, in between cries of “it
’s so good to see you.” It really was. I led them back to our spot, where Robert had risen from his seat, and was adjusting the fit of his dress shirt, tugging at the collar and cuffs. He shuffled around the table to meet my friends, hand extended.
“Good to meet you both,” he said as he approached. He smiled, and if he was nervous, covered it well.
I completed the introductions as my friends and fiancé shook hands, then we seated ourselves around the table.
“What a place to pick to get married—aside from it being a pain in the butt to get to,” Miranda said as she removed her coat and hung it over the back of her chair. “Northboro’s so cute. The way we drove into town, the slope down into the main street, the hills in the backdrop, postcard perfect.”
“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Lisa said, as she too settled in for the evening. “We wanted to walk over from our hotel but got distracted window shopping.”
My two friends shared a dangerous look between them, and I tried to recall the nearby shops. Would another unexpected wedding gift be sprung upon me? At least it was unlikely to be antique jewelry. Godawful lingerie perhaps? No, I still pegged that kind of a gift to be from Becca. Regardless, I didn’t get a chance to inquire. The next moment Robert was back on his feet, trying to maneuver around the tightly packed restaurant. Pizza con Amore made fantastic food, but it was small—some might prefer the term intimate—and often busy.
I looked toward the door to notice two men of about Robert’s age standing and waving in our direction. They met halfway between their respective starting points. Mark and Devon—who I knew by name only—were similar in stature to Robert, all seemingly broad across the shoulders, as if they’d been made from the same male gymnast mould. They’d all competed nationally, so in a way they were. They slapped each other on the backs as they shook hands.
“They’re pleasant to look at,” Lisa said. She shifted in her chair so she could get a better look at Robert’s friends.
Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3) Page 10