Page 45 of Entirely Yours
Dinner that night is a little earlier than usual out of respect for Chloe and her bedtime. Everyone is there aside from Bex, Anders, and Elodie. They’ll sometimes take the train up if Anders is off, but Bex is due any day now so their visits have slowed. I wouldn’t be surprised if a FaceTime call happened before we left, though.
Shockingly, Hugo and Hank have become fast friends. Hank’s no-nonsense southern drawl can be heard from the back deck where turkey and veggie burgers are on the grill. When I told Thea earlier that we were doing burgers tonight, her face turned green and she ran out of the room. I immediately called Dad and asked him to pick up an alternative.
Another reason I’m glad to have Thea living at my house—I had no idea her food aversions were so bad.
“It’s not right to turn vegetables into a burger,” Hank bemoans as I slide the back door open. “I might have to run out and grab some real dinner after Thea goes to bed—no offense,” he says to Dad.
“None taken. I remember when Bex was pregnant with Elodie, she was craving fried pickles specifically from Louie’s. Anders drove up here on several occasions just to get them for her. There’s no way they were any good by the time he made it back to the city, but what are we supposed to say to a woman who is carrying our baby? No?” Dad laughs, as if that idea isunfathomable. I think about Thea rubbing her belly earlier, and I realize itisunfathomable.
“Thea’s mom loved sushi. It’s all she wanted when she was pregnant. I’d make her different variations of ‘sushi’ with ingredients she was allowed to have.” He pauses, reminiscing on a memory that it seems like he hasn’t thought of in a while. “She hated every last version I made,” he laughs. “We lived out in west Texas at the time and there aren’t a lot of reputable sushi options—at least not back then. We had to drive to the big city as soon as we left the hospital so Shirley could get her some sushi.”
Hank flips a burger over and says, “I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”
Silence descends upon the three of us. More reverent than uncomfortable, though. A mutual understanding of the role we play. I feel honored that I get to be a part of this hallowed tradition, men taking care of their women, as primitive as that sounds. I suppose that’s evolution—the innate desire within us to care for the young and the vulnerable.
That thought causes me to chuckle though, because I think if Thea heard me call her vulnerable, she’d pack up all of her things and move her ass out of my house.
Bex told me once that I needed someone to take care of me instead of me having to do the caring all the time. But I think deep down she knows how much I love it. How fulfilling it is for me. It’s why I went into teaching in the first place, even though that has definitely become too draining.
I can’t envision taking care of Thea ever becoming draining.
I look inside and see Thea teaching Ben how to braid Chloe’s hair, and I think,This is it. This is exactly what I’ve always wanted.
Let’s just hope Thea will actually let me have it.
She looks up just then and catches my eye. Her soft smile makes me think I might have a chance. I wink at her, enjoying the hell out of the blush that creeps up her cheeks.
Sunday night dinner at the Bardot house feels like being wrapped in a fluffy blanket on a cold winter day. Like the feeling of sitting by the fireplace with a new book. Or like that one time Guy took me to a nice hotel, and when I got out of the shower, the floors were warm. Damn, my feet were so toasty.
“Do you have heated tile in your bathrooms?” I ask Jules when he finishes up cleaning and comes to sit on the ground in front of me.
“I can if you want me to,” he says, voice low. It’s like now that he has me under his roof he’s decided to turn up the sex appeal to a level twelve.
Tucking my feet up under me, I say, “That’s a no.”
“Unfortunately, that’s a no. But I have been wanting to redo my bathrooms…” He trails off, tapping my leg in a manner that tells me he wants me to put my feet back down next to him.
“My feet are gross. They’re so beat up and deformed after years and yearsin pointe shoes.”
He nods but doesn’t stop pulling at my leg. When I finally give in, he takes one of my feet and presses his thumb into the sole.
An ungodly sound leaves my body.
I’ve gotten used to pain over the years. As a professional dancer, something always hurts. If you stopped to attend to every ache and pain, you’d never get back up.
That and the fact that no one has ever so willingly offered to rub my feet.
This is what heaven feels like.
Jules continues his work while asking me questions. “How’s the studio coming along? Think you’ll be ready for summer classes?”
“I actually, ahh—” Jules’ hand immediately stops to my utter dismay. “No! Don’t stop.”
He spears me with a wicked look and mumbles, “Yes, ma’am.”
Clearing my throat, I continue. “I roped some college students into coming in for a few master classes next weekend. Between that and the fliers I’ve been passing out at all the local schools, I think I’ll have some interest for the summer. I wanted to be open for spring break, but with everything going on, I don’t think that will happen.”
“I think you’ll have a lot of interest for the summer,” Jules confirms. “I heard some of my students talking about the new studio the other day. Apparently for the last few years, people have been commuting to the next town over for classes.”
