Page 60 of On Dancer
Thirty-Two
Échappé:to escape.
Alexander
The winter wind whipped my bare face as I followed Rudy down the stairs and out the back door on Sunday morning. We’d had a blissful thirty-six hours or so, a lovely little bubble interrupted only long enough to have dinner with Julian Hale last night, but now chilly reality had come calling.
“Do we really have to face our mothers?” I whined most unbecomingly as we made our way to the car. It had lightly snowed Friday night, leaving a crunchy dust that meant going slower to avoid hidden icy spots.
“You’d rather skip brunch?” Rudy asked the most ridiculous question, and I gave him an appropriately pointed look.
“There are better uses for our time.” By mutual agreement yesterday, we had each texted our mothers that I was back in town and proposed brunch. My mother had immediately offeredto host. “And yes, I’m aware this was more or less our idea. Best get it over with and all that.”
“Are you worried they’ll be mad?” Rudy paused to unlock his car.
“Mad, no.” I wasn’t anticipating actual anger. And judging from the barrage of questions my mother had thrown out via text, she’d already drawn the correct conclusion. I slid into the passenger side with a sigh. “Am I about to get a lecture on being too old, too jaded, and too far away for you? Most definitely yes.”
Rudy chuckled as he started the car, turning the heater to full blast. “And here I was worried they might lecture me on how you could do better.”
“Better?” I made an affronted noise. One of these days, I was going to convince Rudy of his true worth. “Impossible. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Thank you.” His cheeks were already pink from the cold, but his flush deepened. “And ditto.”
“Nonsense. I turned your life upside down.” Warming my hands by the heater vent, I worried the inside of my cheek with my tongue. I couldn’t help feeling like I was getting a far better bargain here. After dinner with Julian, we’d decided I would finish the season in Seattle, wrapping up my contractual obligations to that company before accepting Ballet Philadelphia’s offer. This meant six months or so of a combination of long distance and Rudy arranging to work from Seattle. He said he was happy to do it, but my doubts were a heavy weight in my stomach. “I’m feeling guilty for dragging you across the country, even if it is temporary.”
“I meant what I said. I want to do life with you.” Rudy took my hand in his as we waited for the car to warm up. “If that means airports and working on a laptop at your apartment for a time, then so be it. I don’t want to think about the alternative.”
“Same.” I exhaled hard. I wanted to make this work. Wewouldmake this work. I was determined on that front. Resigned, I motioned at the exit for the parking lot. “Okay. Let’s face the firing squad.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Rudy headed toward my parents’ house.
“I hope you’re right,” I said dourly, then brightened at thoughts of what I wanted to do to Rudy once we were alone again. “Either way, tell me we can escape as soon as the food and inquisition are done.”
“We can escape until you have to leave,” Rudy said gently. I had a late-night red eye back to Seattle, and I could have done without the reminder.
“That’s my least favorite L-word.” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest before I pulled out my phone. “I’m researching flights for you in two weeks as a distraction.”
“You do that.” We’d agreed Rudy needed time to set up telework as an option. Much as we both wanted it, neither of us could instantly pick up and move.
One budget ticket later, we arrived at my parents’ house. Rudy parked along the front main drive.
“Not sneaking around back is a novelty.” He laughed as we made our way up the walk.
“No more sneaking,” I promised. Whatever else happened this morning, I wanted to live our lives together openly. Rudy deserved way more than a secret fling. We both did.
“Alexander!” My mother threw open the front door to greet us with hugs. “Darling. I know you love a dramatic entrance, but next time, a little notice? My fridge was practically tumbleweeds.”
I sincerely doubted that, but I made a sympathetic noise nonetheless. “I’m sure whatever you came up with for food willbe fine.” I glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “As long as there’s coffee?”
“And coffee cake!” Rudy’s mother and father came bustling up behind us. His father held a large glass pan covered in foil. Margie bounced on the balls of her feet like a six-year-old taking her first ballet class. “This is so exciting.”
“Exciting?” I asked warily as we made our way into the living room. I gave another longing look toward the kitchen.
“You look so nervous, Alexander.” My mother collected everyone’s coats. “Were you expecting a lecture?”
“Of course not,” I blustered.
“He was.” Rudy was only too happy to tattle on me.
