by Teri Wilson
“Shoot.”
“Did my brother talk to you again this morning about playing at The Circle Club?”
Julian frowned. It was the last thing he expected her to say, and for the life of him, he didn’t know what relevance The Circle Club had to the matter at hand. “Yes, he did.”
Tessa stared at him for an overlong moment. Julian had a sinking feeling he knew what her next question would be. “And did you accept his offer?”
“You know I didn’t.”
She dropped his hand. It was a test, and he’d clearly failed.
“You’re not going to marry me because I won’t play at your brother’s jazz club?” he asked, incredulous.
“No. I’m not going to marry you because nothing has changed. How can you believe in me when you don’t even believe in yourself?”
Julian didn’t have an answer for that, probably because she had a valid point.
He let out a long, tense exhale. “Don’t do this, Tessa. If you don’t want to marry me, fine. I’m a big boy. I can take it. Just don’t quit the ballet. Don’t give up.”
One of them had to have the courage to live. She’d proven her point—it wasn’t him. It had never been him, never would be. But since day one, he’d always believed in Tessa. He couldn’t stand by and watch her give up. He knew where this road would lead, probably because he’d walked the same path himself.
“Promise me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
So he did the only thing that made sense. He turned and walked out the door. Mr. B hopped off the sofa and pawed at his legs, but Julian kept on walking. He walked past the rehearsal studio and kept going for the full length of the hallway until he found himself standing outside, where there were no more ballerinas. No Ivanov or Madame Daria. No stacks of sheet music waiting for him on the piano in the corner.
If Tessa was willing to quit, then so was he.
Chapter Fifteen
It took Tessa three full days to wrap her mind around the fact that Julian wasn’t coming back to the ballet.
She’d been so shaken by their conversation that she’d walked into the rehearsal studio and stood silently, mind reeling, while Ivanov berated her for missing her costume fitting. Of course that had been after she’d been forced to go running after Mr. B, who’d tried to follow Julian wherever he’d gone.
She couldn’t believe what had happened. Julian had asked her to marry him. Even more surprising, she’d nearly said yes. She’d had to clamp her mouth closed to stop the word from flying right out of her mouth.
She’d done the right thing, of course. He couldn’t possibly want to marry her. Not really. Not when her life was in complete and total disarray.
He made it sound so easy, though. All of it...even the ballet. But what did he know? He wanted her to risk making a fool out of herself when he wouldn’t even entertain doing the same.
Still, she never imagined he’d walk away. She’d believed him when he said she wouldn’t have to go it alone anymore. She hadn’t realized quite how much she believed him until he’d disappeared.
Because you pushed him away. Face it.
“Are you ready for dress rehearsal tonight, darling?” Emily Wilde’s rapidly moving hands as she signed caught Tessa’s attention.
She had a feeling it wasn’t the first time her mother had asked the question. Tessa was sitting opposite her at the breakfast table, but her mind was elsewhere. As it had been a lot lately.
“Honestly, mom, no. I’m not.” She put down her fork. She didn’t feel like eating. Nor did she feel like dancing. The only reason she’d stuck it out this long was because every time Ivanov flailed his arms at her for being off beat, every time she made a mistake, every time she started to say the words “I quit,” she saw the look in Julian’s eyes when he’d begged her to keep going.
Don’t give up. Promise me.
Even after she’d turned down his marriage proposal, and after she’d so cruelly thrown his refusal to return to jazz in his face, he’d believed in her.
Just like he’d sworn he would.
Tessa’s mother frowned. “Not ready? But you’ve been working so hard.”
“The truth is I’m not sure I can do it. I’ve been having some issues with my hearing. Sometimes I think it would be better if I stepped down and let the Cast B lead take my place.” Tessa released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She sat back and waited for her mother to agree with her. Right after she interrogated Tessa about her hearing issues.
But her mother’s response caught her decidedly off guard. “That’s ludicrous,” Emily signed.
Tessa blinked, not quite sure she’d properly understood. “I thought you’d agree with me.”
“Why on earth would you think that? For weeks now, I’ve watched you practice night and day. You’ve given this role everything you’ve got. You’ve earned this, darling.”
Tessa’s gaze narrowed. Who was this person, and what had she done with Tessa’s mother? “Aren’t you going to ask me about the hearing problems I mentioned?”
Her mother took a sip of coffee and gently placed her mug back down on the table. “I don’t need to ask. You’ve been experiencing intermittent recovery.”
“You talked to Dr. Spencer?” Tessa couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t there such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality?
“No. You’re an adult, darling. Dr. Spencer wouldn’t discuss your case with me if I begged. I know that because I might have tried that once or twice.” She shrugged.
If Tessa hadn’t felt so much like crying, she would have laughed. This was the Emily Wilde she knew and loved. “Then how did you know?”
“Because you’re my daughter. I’ve known you since before you were born. I saw the signs. That’s why I’ve been so concerned about you. I thought it might be best if you stayed closer to home.”
Tessa blinked back a fresh wave of tears. “I thought you made all those comments about teaching full-time because you didn’t think I could handle the part.”
Her mother reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I believe you can do anything, darling. The show opens tomorrow night. You can’t quit now. Not when you’ve come this far. How are your ears? Are you experiencing any dizziness that could affect your balance?”
“No. It’s nothing like that. For a while, I could hear, though. At first it was really disorienting, but then...” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Then it was wonderful. “Then it went away.”
Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay.” To Tessa’s astonishment, she almost believed it.
“Hello? Anybody home?” The front door of the brownstone slammed shut, and Zander walked into the kitchen, swiveling his gaze back and forth between the two women. “What’s going on in here? Am I interrupting some kind of mother-daughter crying jag?”
“We’re fine.” Emily gave Tessa’s hand another squeeze. “Aren’t we, darling?”
Tessa nodded. “Yeah, I suppose we are.”
For the most part, anyway. There was still the matter of her broken heart, but that was a lost cause. Surely Julian despised her now. His absence spoke volumes.
“What do you need, Zander? Doesn’t that fancy hotel of yours still serve breakfast?” Emily lifted a brow.
“I came to pick up my tickets for Tessa’s performance tomorrow night. It’s going to be a busy night at the Bennington, so I’m afraid I’ll have to meet you both at the Lincoln Center. I’ll probably be running late.”
Emily stood. “Zander Wilde, you’d better not miss your sister’s big night.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not. I promise I’ll be there. Can I have my tickets, please?”
“I’ll go fetch it.” Their mother gave him a playful swat on
her way out of the room, but he ducked and her hand narrowly missed his handsome head.
“Who are you bringing as your date tomorrow night?” Tessa asked.
Zander shrugged. “No one special.” It was the story of his dating life. He never kept a girlfriend long enough for Tessa to remember her name.
Zander shot her a curious glance. “Speaking of dates, have you spoken with Julian lately?”
Tessa’s heart stopped at the sound of his name being dropped so casually in her family kitchen. She cleared her throat. “Not lately.” Not since he asked me to marry him and I turned him down flat.
“Perhaps you should,” Zander said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tessa gathered her plate and coffee cup and headed for the sink. She needed to get to the studio in time to warm up before dress rehearsal. Also, she wasn’t at all ready for a casual conversation about Julian. She probably would never be ready for that. It hurt too much to say his name. It hurt to think about him.
Unfortunately, not thinking about him had proved to be impossible.
Zander followed her and spun her around so she could read his lips. “It means that maybe you should check in with him and see what he’s up to.”
“I can’t. Julian doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” Not that she blamed him. Hot shame coursed through her at the memory of how she’d responded to his proposal.
She knew how difficult it was for him to open up. She’d worked hard to break down his defenses. And the moment he’d let himself be vulnerable, truly vulnerable, she’d shut down.
She’d accused him of not believing in himself, even as she’d been on the verge of walking away from the most important role of her career. God, could she have been a bigger fraud?
Zander shook his head. “I doubt that’s true.”
“You don’t understand.” Julian might not have believed in himself, but he’d believed in her. More important, he’d believed in them when Tessa couldn’t. “It’s over.”
* * *
The text came just as Julian was about to take the stage. If his phone hadn’t been tucked into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and set to vibrate, he would have missed it. He wouldn’t have seen Tessa’s message until it was too late.
Opening night. I just want you to know that you’re the reason I’m dancing tonight. I know I have no right to ask you this, but please come.
He stared at the words on the screen as the other musicians, already onstage, started in on the intro. The band was a classic jazz trio—a double bassist, a drummer and Julian on piano. The grouping had been Zander’s idea, and Julian had to admit it was pretty genius.
He’d called Zander the day after the terrible discussion with Tessa in her dressing room. Not because he was trying to win her back, but because she’d been right.
He’d been in no position to tell her what to do. She’d had a moment of weakness. She’d been terrified of failing at the one thing that meant the most to her, and he’d walked right out the door. The way he’d behaved was no better than what Owen had done to her, or what Julian’s father had done to him after his accident. Every time he thought about that awful day, he hated himself a little bit more. He should have stayed. He’d just proposed marriage to her and promised to stick by her side, but the minute she’d spoken the truth about what a coward he was, he’d turned his back on her.
All this time, he’d been telling himself he couldn’t play jazz because it wouldn’t be the same. He’d never be as great as he once was. But he’d never even tried. What difference did it make, anyway, if he loved it? Wasn’t that what he’d told Tessa when she’d said she was dancing for herself, not for Ivanov?
He should be playing music for himself. Not the music critics. Not the press. Not Madame Daria. He should play because his life had become meaningless without it. And if he failed, so be it. At least he’d given it all he had.
Predictably, Zander had been thrilled to hear from him. He’d also been full of ideas about how to make Julian’s debut as painless as possible, starting with the trio. He wouldn’t be alone onstage. He’d have support. Years ago, Julian would’ve balked at the suggestion. He’d been great on his own. Now, he knew better. There was no shame in needing help. Tessa had taught him that.
Now here he was, about to perform for the first time since his accident. He was on the verge of conquering his demons or, at the very least, taking a good swipe at them. And suddenly, the only place he wanted to be was sitting in a red velvet seat at the Lincoln Center, watching Tessa dance.
It’s too late.
He looked past the stage, out into the crowd. The Circle Club was packed from wall to wall. If he bailed now, he’d make a fool out of Zander. He couldn’t do it. Zander was Tessa’s brother. He’d staked his reputation on tonight. He’d even agreed to Julian’s request to open the club on the same night as the opening of the ballet. He’d needed the distraction. Otherwise, he would have shown up just to see if she’d go through with it, or if she’d quit.
She hadn’t, though. She was dancing tonight, and now Julian wouldn’t be there to see it.
The intro was nearing its conclusion, and his bandmates were already casting him worried glances. Zander was probably sitting at one of the tables near the front row, white as a sheet. Julian needed to get onstage.
He typed out a return text and pressed Send as quickly as he could.
I can’t. I’m sorry.
Then he slipped his phone back into his pocket and strode toward the piano. The club swelled with applause before he even sat down. This was what he’d been dreading most—the moment when the room held its breath, expecting something great. Something perfect. Julian imagined himself crumbling beneath the weight of the cheers.
It wasn’t like that at all, though. He felt buoyed by ovation, shot clean through with adrenaline. His hands shook slightly when he placed them on the keys, so he took a deep breath and counted to three. Then he launched into the song he’d chosen for his comeback. “Dance, Ballerina, Dance.”
The music seemed to flow straight from his soul, out to the tips of his fingers. He made it through the verse, and then the chorus. When he launched into the verse again, the cheers of the crowd grew so loud that he could barely hear the sound coming from the instruments. The rest of the song passed by in a blur of whirling, twirling chords, punctuated by extended bits of improvisation. Jazz at its most pure.
When it ended, Zander walked onstage amid the earsplitting applause to shake Julian’s hand before the next arrangement. He said something, but Julian couldn’t make it out above all the noise.
“What?” he asked, and then he realized that Zander had pressed something into his palm during their handshake.
He looked down and saw that he was holding a front-row ticket for the ballet.
Zander moved closer so Julian could hear him. “I said get out of here. You can play a full set tomorrow night. Unless there’s no place else you’d rather be right now?”
Julian’s fist closed around the ticket. “Thank you.”
Zander shrugged. “Anytime. Just go before you’re too late.”
Lincoln Center was a fifteen-minute drive from the Bennington on a good day of the week, but the streets were teeming with traffic. Julian took the hotel limo, at Zander’s insistence, but by the time the ballet was scheduled to start, the car hadn’t even made it to Central Park.
He wasn’t going to make it. Tessa’s solo was in the first half of the program, as was her pas de deux with Chance, including the dreaded angel lift.
“Pull over,” he said.
The driver met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “But, sir, we’ve still got quite a way to go.”
“It’s fine. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Julian didn’t walk.
He ran.
He ran as if his life depended on it, and he
got to his seat just as Tessa glided onstage. At some point during the performance, he was vaguely aware of Zander slipping into the chair beside him. Tessa’s mother and sister were seated farther down the aisle. At least he thought they were. Julian couldn’t focus on anything or anyone but Tessa.
She was magnificent.
He sat in the darkened theater long after the performance ended. Through the standing ovation, all three curtain calls. And even as the people around him gathered in the aisles and headed toward the grand lobby, with its shimmering crystal chandelier, Julian remained in his red velvet chair. Motionless.
He couldn’t seem to make himself get up. Or even move. Had he clapped when the performance ended and the curtain swished closed? Had he yelled “Brava” as Tessa lowered into a deep curtsy at center stage, or had it been the man behind him? He didn’t even know. He’d slipped into some sort of trance.
God, she’d been exquisite.
Julian had known she could dance. He’d seen the way the music moved through her body with tremulous, aching grace. Even before he’d known her. Before he’d loved her. He’d recognized her talent back on that very first day. Before he’d known about the silence.
Before...
But tonight she’d danced like something out of a dream. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Not even close.
Perhaps it was best that he’d let her go. He didn’t deserve a woman like Tessa. He never had, and now was no different. Tonight was supposed to be a new beginning. For them both. She’d reached out to him, and he’d screwed that up, too. He’d told her he couldn’t come watch her dance.
Did she know he’d been there? He should have never sent that text message. I can’t. I’m sorry.
Regret fell over him like a dark velvet curtain. Then a loud noise from the right of the stage caught his attention—the sound of a door slamming shut.
His head jerked in the direction of the clamor, and his heart stopped.
Tessa.
She’d come for him.
She ran down the aisle, still dressed in ruby-red tulle and sparkling diamonds, with a dazzling tiara pinned in her upswept hair. He wanted to pull it free, to gather those lush copper waves in his hands and kiss her until she knew how much he’d missed her.
