by Violet Howe
She followed him down the hallway into the bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush as he put toothpaste on his own brush before handing the tube to her.
“I asked her why she’d never dated anyone since Gerry.”
Cabe stopped brushing and stared at her in the mirror, white foam oozing from his mouth. “You what?”
“I asked Maggie why she’d never dated anyone since your dad. And I asked what happened between them.”
He spit in the sink and turned to face her. “Ty, why would you do that? Don’t bring him up to her. She doesn’t want to talk about him.”
Tyler bent and spit before looking up at her husband. “It’s healthy to talk about things, Cabe. I know your family doesn’t like to discuss stuff and y’all prefer sweeping it under the rug so nobody sees it, but you can’t move past something unless you face it and get it out there.”
“My mom is past Gerry Tucker, trust me. There’s no reason to bring him up or to discuss him. God, you’re as bad as my sister.”
Tyler thumped his bicep as he started brushing again. “No, I’m not. But I think it’s ridiculous that no one in your family can discuss the past. It shouldn’t be taboo. Don’t you have questions? Aren’t there things you’d like to know? I mean, from what you’ve told me, all you know is the bare minimum about Gerry leaving. Don’t you want to know what happened? Why it affected her the way it did?”
“I know enough to know Gerry Tucker is a lying asshole. I don’t need to know anything else.” He rinsed his mouth and dried his face and hands. “Leave it alone, Ty. Don’t make Mom talk about it.”
She rinsed her mouth and followed him into the bedroom, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “But don’t you think it’s strange that she’s never had a serious boyfriend? I mean, Galen’s what? Twenty-six? Almost twenty-seven? That’s a long time to go without physical affection, don’t you think?”
Cabe groaned. “Babe, I so don’t want to discuss my mother having physical affection, okay? Besides, I need to get to work.”
Tyler flopped across the bed on her stomach and watched him tie his shoes.
“But think about it. Why has she never dated anyone since Gerry? Is what happened so bad she wouldn’t be caught dead in a relationship after him? That’s sad, Cabe. She has to let it go. She has to give love another chance.”
“She’s gone out with people. She’s had dates.”
“But not boyfriends! Has she dated anyone for any length of time? Has she ever invited us over to have dinner with a guy or had some dude there when we go to her house for movie night? Do you think anyone’s ever slept over?”
“Ugh. Ty, seriously. I don’t want to think about my mom’s sex life, okay? What she does is her business. I don’t think she’s gonna call me up and tell me when a guy sleeps over. At least, I hope she never does.” He stood and grabbed his coat from the hook behind the door, putting it on as he walked down the hallway.
Tyler rolled off the bed and followed him, grabbing Deacon’s collar as the dog started jumping on Cabe’s leg, excited at the prospect of going outside for a walk.
“I can’t, buddy.” Cabe knelt in front of Deacon and scratched behind his ears. “We’ll go for a run when I get home. Okay?” He stood and put his arm around Tyler, pulling her into him as his mouth closed over hers. “Mmm. Speaking of sex lives, how ‘bout we discuss ours tonight? In detail?” He moved his hand down her body as his lips nibbled on her neck.
“I have a rehearsal dinner at six,” she said, tossing her head back and running both hands through his hair as she pulled his mouth tighter against her neck. “But I’ll meet you back here after.”
He tucked his thumb under her chin and pressed his lips to hers, smiling as she licked his lips with her tongue and pushed it inside, making it harder for him to leave. He pulled away and then leaned back in for a quick peck. “Can’t wait.”
She stood in the doorway watching Cabe walk to his car as Deacon pulled against her fingers looped through his collar.
“I think you should ask her about this guy, Cabe,” she called after him. “The ranch owner. You know, encourage her to pursue it. I think it would be good for her to put herself out there.”
“Goodbye, Buttercup. Have a good day. And stay out of my mom’s business. She can take care of herself, trust me.”
Tyler closed the door and walked Deacon through the house to the backyard, sitting on the top step as he frolicked across the grass. She knew all too well what a broken heart could do to someone. After all, she’d almost lost Cabe forever because the scars on her heart had kept her from admitting she loved him.
She didn’t want Maggie to be unhappy. Whatever had happened between Gerry and Maggie couldn’t be undone, but at some point, even the most shattered of hearts deserves to beat again. What on earth could have been so bad that it had shut down Maggie’s heart to any possibility of loving again?
5 THE BROKEN TOE
Once upon a time, I believed in those fairy tales that Tyler defends. I believed that Prince Charming would come along and sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset of Happily Ever After.
That was before I met Gerry Tucker.
And while he is most certainly the villain of my tale, I can’t allow him to bear the blame alone.
There were other factors in play.
Nothing in my upbringing had led me to believe I’d ever have anything other than a charmed life.
My parents, thrilled to have adopted me after years of fruitless struggles to conceive, had indulged my every desire and whim.
When a dance instructor told my mother that her five-year-old showed extraordinary promise, I was whisked away from any sense of normalcy.
I’m not saying it’s my mother’s fault. I’d shown an interest and had a talent. She threw everything she had at pursuing my dreams, doing what she thought was best. What she believed any mother would do.
So, I don’t blame her, but I can’t ignore the part dance played in my downfall.
I never attended a school. Never sat in a class with my peers, whispering and giggling about boys. Never stared at the phone willing it to ring for a date.
My days and nights were spent inside a dance studio with private tutors cramming my education between practice sessions. My exposure to the outside world was limited, and my interactions with the opposite sex were based in friendship and performance.
Sure, some of the other dancers went out here and there. There were those who partied. Some who dated. They had the opportunity to have their heart scarred. To have it toughened up a bit. Get wiser.
But all I wanted to do was dance.
I missed out on developing the social skills necessary to navigate a cruel world. My bullshit detector was virtually non-existent.
As unbelievable as it sounds in today’s world, I reached the ripe old age of nineteen without ever having a boyfriend. Never going out on an official date. Hell, I’d never even been kissed.
Looking back, I envy the girls with their high school crushes who had their hearts broken over the course of football games, dances, double-dates, and proms.
They had some idea of what to look for and what to avoid.
I stumbled into love blind. With a broken toe.
As a rule, I never made eye contact with any audience member during a performance, but that night was no ordinary performance, and it was no ordinary audience. We were performing for a small group of carefully selected patrons, featuring three extremely important guests — Gerry and two other financiers whose investments were crucial for our dance company’s season.
As Alberto and I completed the steps leading into the finale, Gerry’s gaze was so intense I couldn’t resist a glance in his direction.
Our eyes had only locked for a moment when a searing jolt of pain coursed through me like lightning.
I held our eye contact and I held my position, just as I’d been taught. Never let them see you sweat, and never ever let them see you fall.
Gerry swore aft
erward he never knew anything was amiss.
“Sheer perfection,” he would say when he told the story to others. “The epitome of a true professional, I tell you. She literally broke a bone and never stopped smiling. Stayed on her toes until the music ended. Can you imagine? No one knew.”
That last part wasn’t true. Alberto knew, of course. My flinch might have been imperceptible to our esteemed audience, but my partner knew the second it happened. His muscular arms tightened immediately, taking on more of my weight than usual so we could finish the performance and seal the deal at hand.
It was my first show as the principal lead. My introduction as the new face of the company after a heated argument between the artistic director and his prima ballerina had resulted in her abrupt departure. I was thrust from understudy to spotlight with less than two weeks to pull off the performance of a lifetime, and if it hadn’t been for Alberto’s patience with me, I don’t know that we could have pulled it off.
But we did.
We earned their applause and their financial backing, and I was showered with praise and ushered across the threshold into what should have been a golden career.
The room had begun to sway by the time the heavy red velvet curtains finally came together to shield us from our audience, and I had immediately collapsed into Alberto’s waiting arms.
“What happened? Maggie? Are you okay?”
“It’s broken. I know it’s broken,” I whispered through tears as Alberto lifted me and carried me backstage to Lucas, our physical therapist.
I managed to stay calm while Lucas removed my shoe.
His skilled hands were gentle as he examined me, but when he turned my foot to get a better look at the toe, I clamped down on Alberto’s hand and cried out in pain.
“Maybe it’s not broken,” Sandy said as Lucas tried to turn my foot again, more tentatively than before.
I glanced up at my best friend, whose face was creased with the same worry and apprehension wreaking havoc on my stomach. We both knew that while a broken toe was by no means a serious bodily injury, it could be lethal to a principal dancer’s ability to carry a performance.
“Maybe it’s just a sprain,” she said, her voice much meeker than normal.
I winced as Lucas prodded.
“We’ll see,” said Lucas. “I’m going to send you for an X-ray so we know for sure.”
I looked away from Lucas and toward what seemed like the entire ballet company crowded inside the tiny room. Their wide eyes and hushed whispers only added to my growing apprehension as the full implications of my injury began to sink in.
“Out of the way, out of the way. You all have some place to be. Let’s get there,” Ernesto said as he parted the crowd and watched them scatter. I groaned and Alberto gave my hand another quick squeeze.
“Maggie, my dahling, what has happened?” he asked me, but before I could answer he had turned his attention to Lucas and my foot. “How bad? Is it broken? Can she stand? Walk? Where is Benjamin? Benjamin!”
“I’m here,” our artistic director said as he entered the room. “Maggie! What happened? Are you alright, love?” Benjamin knelt by my side and cupped my cheek in his hand.
I nodded, fighting back the tears. I couldn’t break down. Not in front of Ernesto and the other dancers.
“I’m fine,” I managed to get out, though my voice didn’t sound like my own.
“Is she fine?” Ernesto asked Lucas.
“There you are!”
I turned to see who was speaking and gulped as I realized the handsome financier from the audience was standing in the doorway. He was even more handsome than he’d seemed from the stage. His dark blonde hair fell in easy curls, and his eyes were such a clear blue that they were almost translucent. He was tall, and his square jawline and high cheekbones could have easily been mistaken for a model’s. I forgot to breathe, and I could hear my pulse pounding through my veins.
“Mr. Tucker.” Ernesto quickly moved to stand between me and the gentleman who had stared at me so fiercely as I danced. “Everything is fine. Just a sprain, most likely. If you’d like to wait for us in the lobby, we’ll all be along shortly.”
Ernesto spread his arms wide in a feeble attempt to block Gerry Tucker from entering the room, but Gerry moved past him effortlessly. Alberto stood as the man approached me, and I was surprised to see that the financier was the taller of the two by a couple of inches.
“Ms. Shaw, Gerry Tucker. I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you I was captivated by your performance. It was sheer perfection.”
He took my hand in his and kissed it, executing a dramatic bow as his lips lingered on my skin. In that moment, the world disappeared. I was no longer aware of my throbbing pain, the curious stares of my best friends, or the stern frown of my producer. I knew only that Gerry Tucker was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and he was smiling at me.
Something stirred inside me. Something animalistic woke up. For the first time, I became fully aware the male of our species existed, and that I was a female, meant to be by his side.
Before I could regain my composure and respond, Ernesto had taken Mr. Tucker by the elbow and tried to lead him away.
“Mr. Tucker, I’m sure Ms. Shaw and Mr. Abasolo appreciate your praise for their performance. They will both be joining us at the reception later, but for now, we need to handle a little housekeeping. If you could excuse us?”
Mr. Tucker’s eyes never left mine. I thought he must be experiencing the same odd sensation I was, because I couldn’t look away from him, and he didn’t seem to want me to.
I took in his dimples, the stray curl that lay on his forehead, and the way his full lips parted to reveal perfect, white teeth. And those eyes. Oh God, his eyes held me in a trance, mesmerized and unable to speak.
“Mr. Tucker? If you could, please?” Ernesto asked again, his voice overly polite in deference to Gerry Tucker’s wealth, but tinged with annoyance that his request was being ignored. Ernesto Campo was not accustomed to being ignored.
Alas, as I would soon discover, Gerry Tucker was not accustomed to being told what to do. He preferred doing whatever he wanted. And in that moment, he wanted me.
“Please tell me you’ll join me at the reception, bellissima,” he said, the wide smile broadening. “Honor me with your presence and allow me to bask in your beauty this evening.”
If anyone said this to the older me as I spied the ripe old age of fifty on the not-so-distant horizon, I would have burst into laughter and asked if he was kidding.
But a hunger had stricken my younger self. I was suddenly starved for the attention of the opposite sex, having never known it tasted so sweet. I wanted nothing more than to be by Gerry Tucker’s side, lapping up his praises and his flowery words.
Ernesto made his plea again, stepping almost between us as he tried to persuade his financier to listen to reason.
“She will be there! We will have plenty of time for you to talk with both our principal dancers and our director, but I must ask that you wait out front with the others while they get changed.”
Ernesto’s physical presence broke the trance, and Mr. Tucker’s smile faded as he looked away from me, his eyes darting from Ernesto to Benjamin and Alberto almost as though he was realizing for the first time that we were not alone in the room. He released my hand and stepped back as he took in Lucas where he knelt holding my foot against his thigh.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” His blue eyes came back to mine, inquisitive and filled with concern. “Are you alright? Has something happened?”
“She is fine!” Ernesto broke in, taking Mr. Tucker’s arm again. “Just a routine exam.”
Mr. Tucker jerked his arm from the producer’s, his eyes still on mine. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, wishing the others would just disappear so I could concentrate on memorizing his face and enjoying the tingle that tickled my loins every time he spoke.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his deep voice rever
berating throughout my body with tantalizing vibrations.
I had no idea what was happening to me. I’d never felt anything like it, and I desperately wanted to feel more of it.
“I’m fine,” I managed to say, and immediately I felt the pain flooding my nervous system again, like my voice had somehow acknowledged reality.
“Then I’ll leave you,” he said to me alone, dismissing anyone else’s presence. “But I’ll be lost until I see you again.”
A girlish giggle erupted from my lips, and I immediately covered my mouth and glanced up at Alberto, who was looking at me like I’d grown three heads.
Ernesto swept Mr. Tucker from the room, motioning for Benjamin to follow, and I looked back and forth from Alberto to Sandy once the men were gone.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What the hell was that?” Sandy asked, her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, are you kidding me?” Alberto asked. “I’ll be lost until I see you again? Who says that?”
“Evidently, Mr. Tucker does,” I said, jutting my chin forward, indignant that they would mock such tender words.
“Oh my God! Tell me you did not fall for that,” Sandy gasped.
I crossed my arms over my chest as Lucas placed my foot back on the floor and stood with a chuckle.
“You did! Look at her!” Sandy pointed to my face.
“What?” I asked, looking up at her and then to Alberto, who was grinning as he rubbed his chin with his hand.
The two of them never did understand what had transpired. I certainly couldn’t explain it. I didn’t understand it myself, at the time. I was too swept up in the passion of being in love with love.
If only I’d known then that catching Gerry Tucker’s eye would not only destroy my dreams but also mark the end of the charmed existence I’d known.
6 FLAT FIFTY
Fifty sounds so old.
