Page 51 of Not Our First Rodeo
His eyes open, breath fanning against the wrist I still haven’t pulled from his face. I‘m entranced by the way his stubble feelsagainst my palm. “Maybe they’ll have all the best parts of both of us.”
A smile pulls at my lips, and I lift my hand away, dropping it in my lap. “I hope so.”
“You want to open it?” he asks.
I shake my head, leaning into his shoulder, sinking into the broad strength of it. “You do it,” I tell him.
I can feel the breath let out of him as he slips his thumb beneath the lip of the envelope, opening it slowly. My heart beats wildly in my chest, a steady thump in my ears. Beau pulls out the slip of paper, and I see it the moment before he does.
I see our future spelled out in black and white, and a thousand images flash through my mind. This pregnancy has felt like many things since I watched the test flashPositive, but right now it feelsreal, because I can see it. I can see Beau and me and—
“It’s a girl,” Beau says, turning watery eyes on me. I watch as the future plays out for him the same way it just did for me. It feels bright, much brighter than it has the past year. The first star pricking a moonless sky.
I nod, a smile breaking out over my face. “It’s a girl.”
His hand finds the back of my head, hauling me in to press a kiss to my forehead before he bends down, eye level with my stomach. With a gentle reverence a man of his size shouldn’t be able to possess, he caresses the swell of my stomach with his thumb and places a kiss there too.
“Hey, baby girl. It’s me, your daddy.”
WhenIenterthestudio, Elsie is working with one of the teenage girls I recognize. Her name is Maya, the one Elsie talks about a lot at home, the girl who reminds her so much of herself. Looking at the determined expression on the girl’s face as she listens to Elsie’s instruction and then tries to correct her posture, I can see it too.
When we were in high school, I used to come to the studio on early mornings or late nights with Elsie to watch her practice and try my best to distract her. It rarely worked, but on the few occasions I managed to snag her attention from dance, we made some memories in this studio. But even during the times I didn’t manage to distract her, I was fascinated by watching her dance.
After we moved to Utah, I didn’t get to watch her rehearse as much, but I tried any chance I got. I loved the way she transformed in the studio, in her pointe shoes, the way she’d become both fluid and controlled. How she could make her body move in these intricate and incredible ways. It was mesmerizing.
She looks different now, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, attention fixed wholly on Maya and the way she worksto nail the move. She doesn’t notice me standing in the corner, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away as her face transforms when Maya perfectly executes the pirouette. She’s glowing in a way I’ve never seen before, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. And when Maya squeals and throws her arms around Elsie’s middle, the look on her face transforms into something like awe.
I watch as she hesitates for just a moment, like she doesn’t know how to respond, before her body softens and her arms circle around Maya’s tiny form, wrapping her in a tight hug. Her lips move, forming words I’m too far away to hear, but I don’t miss the way Maya’s arms tighten around Elsie’s middle, the way Elsie’s eyes squeeze shut, like she’s trying to hold back tears.
It makes my throat tight and my heart grow too big for my chest.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” someone says from beside me.
I look down to see Tonya. She’s hardly changed in the years I’ve known her, something I’ve always appreciated about her. She’s steady and unequivocally herself, a pillar of the community and a mentor to so many.
I nod and turn my focus back on Elsie, who is instructing Maya once more. “She really is.”
“I wish she’d take me up on my offer.”
This catches my attention, and when I look back at Tonya, she’s staring directly at me, assessing my reaction. I don’t bother pretending I know what she’s talking about. This woman has spent the majority of her adult life working with teenage girls; she can sniff a lie from a mile away. “What offer?”
Tonya sighs like she expected this. “I told her I want to sell her the studio.”
I quirk a brow, taken aback. “Really?”
She nods and allows her gaze to travel to the two dancers. “I’ve been getting offers for years from people who want to buy thestudio, but I’ve never really entertained them. But now…I don’t know. This town is feeling a little claustrophobia-inducing, and I think I’m ready for a change. I want to get out and travel while I’m still able to enjoy it, you know?”
“I understand,” I tell her and mean it. I’m at a point in my life where I’m putting down roots. She’s at the place where she wants to rip hers up.
She looks at me again, brown eyes serious. “Despite all that, I wouldn’t sell it to anyone but her. That girl is my legacy.”
I wish Elsie could hear this, that she could see how plainly her teacher and mentor and boss is proud of her, that she would only trust her business with one single person. I’m not sure if she would believe it, if she’s ready to see herself that way yet, but I wish she could know. I wish there was a way to show her, to make her believe in her worth.
“She won’t take it, though.” Tonya sighs. “Thinks she’s not capable.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I just follow the direction of her stare and watch my wife until she finally notices the two of us standing near the door. When Elsie’s gaze finally catches on mine, a startled expression crosses her features for a moment before morphing into a smile that makes my pulse beat wildly.
She turns her attention back to Maya, saying something to her that makes Maya roll her eyes before heading to where her stuff is spread across the floor next to the barre.
