Page 67 of Give Me Strength

Enclosed with this letter, you will find detailed information about the next steps to confirm your enrollment, including orientation dates, housing options, and additional required materials. We encourage you to carefully review this information and contact our admissions office with any questions you may have.

We are excited to welcome you to the Bayard community, and look forward to seeing the unique contributions you will make to our program.

Congratulations once again on your acceptance. We eagerly anticipate your arrival and the incredible artistry you will bring to Bayard.

Sincerely,

Sharmaine Cardwell

Director of Admissions

Bayard Ballet Conservatory

My heart swells with joy, my mind racing with all the possibilities. Bayard. The dream I’ve chased for as long as I can remember. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a name for myself in the world of ballet. Just like Mom did. Just like Rachel did.

But then, a shadow falls over my excitement. Bayard is in New York, and New York is far away from here. Far from home, far from everything I know. Far from Gilbert.

The thought of leaving him, of not seeing him every day, hits me like an unforgiving punch to the gut. How can I leave behind the person who has become my anchor, my everything?

I feel the tears welling up, blurring the elegant letterhead of my acceptance letter, The dream that seemed so perfect now feels tainted with sadness and understanding. Can I really do this? Can I leave him behind? Can I really pursue my dream at the cost of our relationship, however new it is?

Then again, do I want to give all that up for a boy?

My fingers curl around my letter, like it’s my lifeline. I imagine the bustling streets of New York, the crowded subway rides, the prestigious halls of Bayard. I picture myself dancing on grand stages around the world, living the life I’ve always dreamed of. But every vision is tainted by the emptiness of not having Gilbert by my side.

Should it be, though?

He spent two decades prioritizing his career over everything else. Is it wrong of me to want to do the same? Who knows where we will be a year from now?

And as if my thoughts seem to conjure him up, there’s a soft knock on my closet door. I sit upright and quickly wipe my tears away, trying to compose myself.

“You really should use the regular door,” I call out, my voice trembling slightly. “All this sneaking around makes it seem like we’re doing something wrong.”

The door opens, and Gilbert steps inside, his imposing presence filling the room. “I didn’t know if you were decent.”

I fold the letter and tuck it under my thigh. “Please. If you had your way, I’d be naked and barefoot twenty-four-seven.”

His piercing eyes lock onto mine, then shifts to my legs. He looks up a second time, his expression shifts to one of concern. “Everything okay?” he asks, his tone even, almost clinical.

I force a smile that is as hollow as I feel. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… overwhelmed, I guess.”

He steps closer, his gaze never leaving my face. I could make up something or lie to him, but I know he can see the turmoil swirling through me.

My eyes lower, and I tuck my hands under my thighs. “It’s nothing.”

He shucks his shoes off, climbs into bed with me, and sits next to me. He drapes his arm on my shoulder and nestles my body into his side. I breathe in his familiar scent, trying to memorize every detail. Then, no surprise there, he tucks his free hand under my thigh and pulls out the letter.

“You got in.” Why does that make him happy? Doesn’t he realize what that means for him? For us? “I’d like to say congratulations,” he continues, “but you don’t seem happy about it. Not entirely.” I know his words are not meant to be accusatory. Just a statement of fact.

I swallow hard, my mind racing for an excuse. “It’s just... it’s such a big change, moving to New York.”

“Is that all? Because it seems like there’s more to it than that.”

“Well, yeah.” I worry my bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears. “It’s on the other side of the country.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbles through me. “It’s a fourteen hour drive, or a four hour flight. Half that, if you take the jet.”

He’s been thinking about this?

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