Page 131 of Comeback
“Yeah, but when you crawl into my bed late at night, talking tends to be the last thing I want to do.”
Her lips part as she grins bigger. “Are you here by yourself?”
“Brogan’s at the bar. We’re not staying, I just had to see you. Had to tell you I’m proud as hell of you. What you’ve done with the studio is nothing short of incredible. I wish I could be there tomorrow to watch people fall in love with it.”
I should have told her all this earlier today, but with Flynn showing up and everything else, I got sidetracked. That’s my bad. She needs to know.Deservesto know.
“The kids are going to adore you. You’re going to be such an inspiration to them. Hell, you’re an inspiration to me.”
She is. She’s worked so hard, never asking for anything from anyone. Watching Sabrina fight for her dreams woke up something inside of me.
Her eyes sparkle and fill with tears that don’t fall. And I’m suddenly aware that we’re at a club and not alone.
“Sorry for going all sappy on you at work.” One side of my mouth pulls up.
“Are you kidding? I’m going to make you say all that again so I can record it and replay it when I need the reminder.”
“You don’t need a recording, baby. I’ll tell you every single day.”
37
SABRINA
The morning of the grand opening, I get to the studio before the sun is up. I hardly slept last night. I was exhausted when I got home from working at Lilac but too keyed up for today to do anything but toss and turn and accidentally keep Archer up most of the night with me.
I offered to go sleep on the couch since Flynn is crashing in my room, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I made a pot of extra strong coffee before I left so hopefully that helps him get through the day.
There isn’t much to do to prepare. London made a banner for the outside window that says, RIBBONS & TWIRLS NOW OPEN, so I hang that, then I turn on all the lights and start the music. The plan is to keep the door open and let people wander in to check it out. Saturdays are pretty busy in the neighborhood, so I’m hoping for a lot of foot traffic.
Official classes start next week, but the dance floor area is open if kids want to check it out while I talk to their parents. I also have orange juice and donuts, and mocktails in case the adults need a reason to linger and let me convince them my studio is the perfect place for their kids.
At eight o’clock I prop open the front door. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. This is it!
I pace the studio, not quite sure what to do with myself while I wait. Only minutes pass, but it feels like an eternity before the first people step inside.
I flash them my biggest smile and then freeze.
“Mom? Dad?” I’m shocked as I stare between my parents.My parentsstanding in my dance studio.
“Surprise!” Dad beams at me.
I hurry toward them, throat thick with emotion and tears already blurring my vision. I wrap an arm around both their necks and let them wrap me up in one of our family hugs that I have missed so much.
“How are you here right now?” I ask when I pull back and swipe at the wet drops sliding down my cheeks.
“As if we were going to miss this.” My mom sounds outright annoyed that I’d think otherwise.
“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I say. They weren’t big travelers before my mom got sick, but since then, they’ve rarely left, not even for a weekend trip. I’ve kept them updated on the studio with pictures and videos. I never expected them to show up. “I’m so glad you did though.”
I hug them again, and some of the nerves I’ve been holding on to fall away.
“The place looks great, pumpkin.” Dad surveys the space with pride shimmering in his eyes.
“Do you want the full tour?” I step forward before they can answer and stop at the refreshment table. Dad has a major sweet tooth. Predictably, he swoops up a donut.
There isn’t a lot to show them really, but they listen intently as I explain every little thing I did to make this place mine. The last stop I make is to a framed photo on the wall behind the front desk. It’s a picture of me and my mom at my very firstdance recital. She was Mother Ginger in our performance ofThe Nutcracker, and I was a bon bon.
“Oh wow.” Mom stares at the photograph. “Look at my hair. I forgot how long it was back then.”
