Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Exactly.” The pride in his smile made my shoulders lift as he continued, “And for me, I was determined to go out on my terms. Irina called me stubborn, but I had this vision of us retiring together, dancing off into the sunset.”
“And so you did.”
“And so we did.” His expression softened even more. “No regrets.”
Naturally, the source of my recent regret chose that moment to knock at the door.
“Come in, please.” Tavio waved Rudy into the studio. “What’s one more interruption in our morning?”
“Sorry.” Rudy’s gaze passed over me to land on Tavio, but not before he blushed, as visibly awkward as I felt inside. “I needed to catch you both, and since I saw the girls in the hall, I thought now might be an okay moment.”
“It is not terrible,” Tavio allowed.
“I sent out a press release about the performance. We actually got a nibble from a reporter at a local TV station. She wants to come by Monday and ask some questions, maybe get some rehearsal footage. If she does a piece on us, the exposure could really help ticket sales.”
“I am sure.” Tavio nodded, whipping out his phone to make a note. “Send me the details, and Irina and I will accommodate her visit.”
“Thank you.” Rudy turned back to me. He licked his lower lip, more a nervous gesture than anything seductive, yet the memory of the kiss slammed back into me. “And you? Will you help with the reporter?”
“Of course.” It was the only possible response, even if I’d rather agree to anything but. And Thanksgiving loomed, another forced interaction with the one person I was desperate to avoid. What a mess of my own making.
Twelve
Temps de flèche: step of the arrow.
Rudy
The Dasher house was large and stately and entirely lacking in places to escape. Thanksgiving was weird for reasons beyond the Alexander factor. He hadn’t talked to me much since our kiss, not that I’d expected otherwise. I missed our evening gaming time and how easily we’d chatted. One kiss had ruined everything.
One kiss I couldn’t stop thinking about as I crept through his parents’ house, seeking a moment of solitude. It was Thanksgiving, a day of gratitude, and while I was incredibly grateful for my mother’s recovery and Alexander’s mother’s hospitality, other forms of gratitude eluded me. As the afternoon progressed, I ran a gauntlet of questions over my future interspersed with familial achievements to celebrate. Helen announced a much-wanted pregnancy. Waylon had a new promotion at work. Shannon had closed a big real estate deal. The children had all made first-quarter honors at school. My father had picked a retirement date for the following year. All good news, and all a reminder of how little I’d personally accomplished.
Worse, I didn’t have the same sort of motivation as the rest of my family. I envied my siblings’ happy marriages, not their professional accolades. Further, joining Alexander’s successful family for the holiday only added to my inferiority issues. The large house hummed with activity: a football game on in the home theater, clumps of guests in the formal living and dining rooms, people in aprons bustling around the large kitchen, shooing the kids back to an expansive family room.
Usually, I’d simply join my nieces and nephews, but they were enjoying bossing around Alexander’s slightly younger niblings and had no time for Uncle Rudy. I slipped away from the family room to the quieter lower level, which featured a wine cellar along with a rec room with a large pool table.
Pool was hardly my game of choice, but I’d spent other gatherings in this house occupying myself down here. I took the stairs quietly, not wanting to call attention to my escape, but I’d barely reached the bottom step when a familiar voice sounded.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Alexander leaned against the pool table. He was otherwise alone in the dimly lit space.
“I’m not stalking you, promise.” I held up my hands, trying hard not to openly admire how good he looked in a baby-blue button-down shirt and gray dress pants. “I just needed a break from my siblings’ successes.”
“Don’t we all,” he drawled before lining up a predictably perfect shot that yielded him two balls in the corner pocket.
“You?” I scoffed. “Your sister might be a doctor, true, but you’re legitimately famous, especially within the global ballet community.”
“Yet I am woefully behind in providing grandkids.” Alexander offered a wry smile that didn’t reach his solemn eyes. “Also, Isabella will still be a doctor at ninety, whereas the clock on my fame ticks that much louder with each passing day.”
I groaned, completely out of patience with his theatrics. “I’m tired of hearing about how old you are.”
“Are you?” Alexander blinked like he was unused to pushback, probably with good reason. He could be rather intimidating. People were likely reluctant to stand up to someone of his stature. I, however, had no such issue, and I had a week’s worth of frustration to unleash.