Page 69 of Not Our First Rodeo
I shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
James watches the interaction, and when I turn back to him, his expression is more solemn, the one I imagine he wears at the office. He motions to the table. “Let’s sit.”
We do, and he closes his laptop, then takes a drink from his steaming white coffee mug. Unlike at the big house, theirs all match, and the set costs more than my parents’ entire dining collection.
“So what’s on your mind?”
I look at them both in turn. “Elsie has a recital coming up.”
Diana’s eyes blow wide. “She’s dancing again?”
My jaw tightens hard enough that my teeth ache, but I keep my voice steady. “No, a recital for her students. She’s been working really hard, and I would love to celebrate it since it’s her first recital as a teacher.”
Elsie’s mom looks like she wants to say something, but bites her tongue. Beside her, James says, “Of course we should celebrate. What did you have in mind?”
I don’t meet his eyes, instead continuing to hold Diana’s stare. “I’ve talked to my family, and they’re all going to come. And I’m planning a small party at our house after. I’d love for you both to be there.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” James says.
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but it’s not him I’m worried about.
“I want you to be there,” I repeat. “But only if you can be fully supportive.”
Diana’s eyes narrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
James shifts in his seat, uncomfortable at her sharp tone.
I look at them both in turn before finally settling my gaze back on Diana. “We both know that you haven’t agreed with Elsie’s decision to start teaching,” I say. When she opens her mouth to interrupt, I continue, “But it isherdecision. And she loves it. She’s good at it.” I let out a breath, imagining her in the studio with Maya, the way Tonya looks at her with nothing but pride. “She’s better than good at it. And this is what she wants to do. So if you believe you can support her in this, then I’d love for you to come.”
When I look at James, there’s a tenderness and respect in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. I wonder if I’m saying the things to his wife that he wishes he could. That thought urges me on.
“If you can’t,” I say, meeting Diana’s eyes one more time. “Then don’t bother.”
Todayisthedayof my first recital as a teacher, and I feel like I could throw up. That could also be the acid reflux that’s causing me to pop Tums like they’re candy every evening. But tonight, at least some of it is nerves.
Backstage in the Larkspur Performing Arts Center is buzzing, girls in tutus and pointe shoes that are only half-laced running around, finishing getting ready. It’s warm and smells of perfume and hairspray. It’s a little overwhelming, but also a little comforting. It’s the behind-the-scenes magic of ballet.
Still, I excuse myself thirty minutes before the first dance, needing to escape to the bathroom, where it’s quiet and cold and I can gather myself.
I’ve been in this exact same bathroom many times before. I performed dozens of recitals here over the years, and before the first one, I found a secluded bathroom in the basement that I think has been mostly forgotten about. It’s small and a little dingy, and the light above the sink has flickered without dying for the last twenty years.
But for the first time, when I step into this bathroom, I don’t feel panic seizing my chest. I’m breathing normally—or as normally as I can with my diaphragm compressed by the baby taking up my entire midsection. I haven’t broken out in a cold sweat or stored an extra tube of mascara somewhere on my person so I can touch up my makeup so no one knows I was crying.
Tonight, there are nerves fluttering in my stomach, and my skin feels a little clammy. My hands are shaking. But I’mokay. And God, it feels so damn good.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my black silk wrap dress. If I thought finding casual maternity clothes was difficult, I severely underestimated how difficult it would be to find a bump-friendly professional yet elegant dress.
When I glance at the screen, I can feel myself smiling down at it.
Beau: I’d say break a leg, but I feel like pregnancy might make recovery a little difficult.
I’m still grinning as I text him back.
Elsie: Yes, because recovery for a broken leg is usually so easy.
Beau: I could make lying on your back with your feet up for a few weeks worth your time.
A hot blush steals into my cheeks. The last few weeks with Beau have been…busy. We’ve been making up for lost time.
