Page 104 of Dance with Me
Uneasiness slowed her steps as she ventured further inside, her footsteps crinkling the huge sheets of brown paper covering the carpet. A fine layer of plaster dust coated all of the plastic-covered furniture, and hung thickly in the air. Natasha opened Gina’s door first, where she’d stashed all her shit before leaving. It, too, had been painted, her stuff moved to the center of the room and a giant plastic tarp thrown over the pile.
Not Gina’s room anymore. Not Gina’sapartmentanymore. Her roommate, her best friend, wasn’t ever coming back. Gina was gone, off in New York City, or Alaska, or wherever she and Stone found themselves at the moment.
A sinking sensation in her gut weighed her down, but she pushed through, maneuvering around the now unfamiliar living room toward her own bedroom.
The door was ajar. Natasha nudged it open further and stepped inside.
Her room, her haven, was bare and white. A fresh coat of paint masked the repairs, and the smell was stronger in here. Without her tall lamps, it was dark, but enough light poured in from the curtainless window to show they’d done a good job on the ceiling, fixing the hole and smoothing over the damage from the leak. They’d even installed fresh wall-to-wall carpeting. It would be like moving into a brand new apartment.
Once, the thought would have filled her with excitement. Getting the whole place painted without having to do it herself? It was a renter’s dream. But the thought of filling this cold, alien space with her things no longer appealed. Refilling her closet would be exhausting, just from the sheer volume of her wardrobe. Why on earth did she own so much clothing?
Dimitri was right. She had to take a good hard look at her spending and figure outwhyshe was buying so much and living beyond her means.
But that was a problem for another day, and she didn’t want to think about Dimitri now. Or how comfy and inviting his bed was. Or how he had a pool and a private dance studio space. They couldn’t continue.
She had her apartment back. Calling it “home” at the moment just didn’t feel right. But she had a place to live that was hers and hers alone. No one could accuse her of awful things now.
And she could live here rent-free for the next two months. She’d be able to recover before the season began without having to hustle. She could teach a few of the less strenuous classes so she could pay her other bills and buy food, but once she was settled in, she’d take a look at her expenses and pare down. She probably didn’t need to pay for cable TVandall the streaming services.
And best of all, when her mother came to visit for the premiere, Natasha could show her that she had her own place with a guest room for Esmeralda and her friend to stay in.A guest room.For a family that had to portion off the living room to make a bedroom, a guest room was the height of luxury. When Natasha unpacked, she’d decorate and make this place look even nicer than before. Maybe then Esmeralda would see how well she was doing, and finally offer some praise.
Natasha limped into the kitchen, which would need a full scrub down. White footprints from the workers’ boots covered the tiles, and the dust had gotten everywhere.
Maybe this didn’t feel like home, but she would sure make it look like it was before her mother arrived.
Sliding her phone out of her back pocket, she sent Kevin a text.All looks good. You can bring everything up.
Kevin was chilling in the garage. She’d pointed out the luggage cart before she came up, so he could unload her bags onto it and bring them up in the elevator.
Before he arrived, she sent one more text, even though her muscles locked with tension, as if trying to stop her.
I need this job. I’m sorry.
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Halfway up the stairs to Natasha’s apartment, Dimitri remembered her building had an elevator.
Too late now. Didn’t matter. Blood pounded in his veins, amped by anger.
Anger was easier. Easier than fear, easier than betrayal, easier than loneliness. The phrasenichto ne vechnoran though his mind.Nothing lasts forever.
No, damn it. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t lose her. FuckThe Dance Offand her producer for their meddling. Whatever had happened, he would fix it, and he’d bring Natasha home.
He was convinced now. Home was what his house had become over the days she’d lived there, a place they created together. All these years, he’d been looking for a sense of home again, and he’d found it—with her.Shewas home to him. She’d given him a feeling of stability that had been missing from his life for twenty-five years. And he had the feeling, or at least the hope, that he’d been able to do the same for her, that his efforts to show her that he loved her, that she was worthy and deserving of love, had succeeded.
Regardless, he wasn’t giving up without a fight.
When he got to her apartment, his chest heaved with exertion and emotion. The door was open, but he pounded a fist on it anyway as he entered.
Five heads whipped around in his direction. Natasha sat on the floor in the center of the living room, flanked by Kevin Ray and Lori Kim. In the kitchen stood two other pro dancers fromThe Dance Off,Jess Davenport and Mila Ivanova.
Shit. An audience.
“Everybody out!” he barked.
Kevin’s brow lowered. He opened his mouth, but Natasha laid a hand on his arm.
“It’s fine. Just give us a few minutes, please.”
