Page 25 of Just Like Home

“I eat carbs,” Charlotte said. “I have an app that measures exactly how many I can have every day.”

Lucy groaned. “Charlotte, you’ve got to loosen up.” She pulled a pair of red sandals from her closet. “These are going to be too big for you too.”

Charlotte slipped them on. “Probably only a half size too big. I can manage.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

“I don’t have a Bible or anything,” Charlotte said as they walked out the back door toward Lucy’s car.

“You don’t have to have a Bible,” she said with a laugh. “Just show up. That’s good enough. And for the record, nobody would’ve kicked you out for wearing yoga pants either.”

Charlotte liked the way that sounded but doubted it was true. Religion reminded her of ballet. All or nothing. Rigid rules. Consequences for your actions.

What were the consequences for living a completely selfish life?

They drove through town, the cotton-candy-colored buildings grabbing her attention again. Funny those colors didn’t turn Harbor Pointe into something tacky. Somehow, the place maintained its individuality and its charm.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Lucy said, tapping the steering wheel as they waited for the light to turn green. “Julianna would be so excited.”

“I didn’t intend to put you out,” Charlotte said. “You’ve already been so nice to me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in months.”

Charlotte laughed. “And I thought my life was boring.”

There was a pause as the light changed and Lucy stepped on the gas. “Are you okay, though, Charlotte?”

Charlotte looked at her, and for a brief moment Lucy met her eyes, then went straight back to watching the road. “What do you mean?”

“It was a rash decision is all I’m saying,” Lucy said. “Julianna bragged about you a lot. I think I have a handle on how unique your situation is. Quitting something you’ve worked so hard for is a big deal.”

Charlotte turned and looked out her window just in time to see a powder-puff-blue building with a giant neon-pink ice cream cone sign out front. “I’m okay.” She thought she was anyway. Last night, she’d dreamt of her final curtain call. She’d made her exit without anyone knowing. She didn’t have a party or flowers or any kind of celebration—she’d simply walked away.

She hadn’t even said goodbye. Jameson had probably been hurt by that. He’d been her partner for a long time now. Leaving like that hadn’t been fair to him, but Charlotte was so afraid of losing her nerve.

Part of her missed it. At times, her body still moved, almost instinctively, like when she was waiting for her tea to steep the night before and found herself up on her tiptoes, assuming the position the way she had in countless classes over the years.

But she wasn’t willing—at least not yet—to say she’d made a mistake.

“Jules always said you were something special,” Lucy said. “Said everyone knew it except you.”

Charlotte’s mind raced back over a decade when her first critical review released. She was so relieved when she read it, thankful this notoriously hard-to-please critic had mostly positive things to say about her performance. She’d been so proud until Marcia pointed out that he’d called Charlotte “beautifully graceful if somewhat delicate.” It was a tiny criticism sandwiched between several compliments, but it was the only thing Marcia seemed to take away from that article.

“You wouldn’t understand, Lucy,” Charlotte said. “You have amazing friends and a job you love and people to share your happiness with. You’ve gone on dates and had boyfriends and you’ve got a closet full of the kind of clothes you actually leave the house in. I don’t have any of that.”

“No, but you had countless adoring fans applauding your every move.”

Charlotte stilled. “I guess maybe I want someone to love the parts of me that no one’s cheering for.” She’d only realized it just now. “And I kind of want to be around people who want to know me as a person—not only as a dancer.”

Lucy pulled into a parking place in the lot of a gorgeous white church, put the car in park, and looked at her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Charlotte nodded but found herself unable to respond thanks to the obtrusive lump in her throat.

Keep it together.

They emerged from the car, walked toward the front of the church, and instantly Charlotte was overcome with anxiety. What if she stood up at the wrong time or people stared at her? What if they made her say her name out loud in front of everyone or kicked her out for wearing a semi-gaudy red belt and shoes?

She followed Lucy through the front door and into the lobby, where they were greeted by a sweet woman named Beverly, who Lucy told her was related to Quinn somehow—stepmom or something? Beverly had a genuinely motherly way about her, though she was nothing like Charlotte’s mother. Probably more like the kind of mother Jules was.

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