Dancing by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  “Lucas was there,” Sophie said. “He clapped.”

  “Armand, you saved our asses today,” Oscar told him. “And proved that you’re more than just a two-second celebrity.”

  “Oscar!” JoJo shouted in horror.

  “What?” Oscar asked. “That’s what he was afraid of, right?”

  Armand put his hands behind his back. “Unfortunately, Oscar is right. I wanted...” He looked at Zamira, who looked away. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore what I thought I wanted. What I have is an amazing dance troupe that performed well, and as a team. I’m really proud of you. From the beginning, you all went against the gossip and slander, and what was expected by the traditional South Florida dance companies. That takes guts. Thank you. No matter what the scores are, I couldn’t be more proud.”

  His troupe cheered and JoJo flopped down on the grass. “Now what? Is it time for lunch?”

  Felicity put her hand to her stomach. “Ugh.”

  “Do we need to keep our costumes on? This make-up itches,” Zach said.

  Armand agreed but looked around. “The other teams are keeping their costumes on. We probably should too. Zamira, you packed the snack boxes, right?”

  She nodded and pointed to the cooler that Lance was sitting on. “In there.”

  “I guess let’s take a break, then.” He joined Zamira and Diego. “Zamira, can we talk?”

  Her jaw clenched but she nodded. He sensed her hurt, and knew he had to reach her before she shut him out completely.

  Guiding her by the elbow, he led her toward the fountain and they sat next to each other in the shade.

  “When were you going to tell me you have a child? A boy, if the blue diapers are any clue.”

  “His name is Alex,” Armand said. Sharing this with Zamira was a relief. “He just turned one.”

  “And Chantal is more than a friend?”

  “A one-night stand, while I was on Dance, Dance USA.”

  “You should have said something.”

  “I wasn’t sure how you would react. And, with Alex, it’s complicated.”

  They sat next to each other, hip to hip but not touching. The hot summer sun filtered through the sprawling oak leaves but the breeze around the fountain kept them cool.

  “Ironic. I should have been distrustful of you. Instead, I proved myself—my love and loyalty—every day.” She turned to him, spearing him with the pain in her dark brown eyes. “We made love, Armand. You should have told me.”

  “I was going to, and then Diego showed up.”

  “You still shared my bed.” She released a low chuckle. “Because you couldn’t take me to yours. Not without giving your secret away? You played me for a fool.”

  “No! It’s not like that. I have a son, yes. It’s not common knowledge, because I didn’t want Alex to be paparazzi ammunition.”

  “You aren’t that famous, Armand.”

  “Not just against me, but Chantal. Lucas would do anything to discredit me.”

  She studied the rusty brown fingernail polish on her thumbnail. “You just stood up against Lucas. What he thinks doesn’t matter.”

  “I know. I should have known before, but...I wanted everything to be perfect.”

  “What is perfect?” She frowned at him, the clock on her cheekbone scrunching together. “There is no such thing. Life is just...life.”

  He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, where a strand had gotten caught against the make-up. “I wanted to have a perfect life with you,” he said. “And you broke my heart.”

  Zamira jumped up, fury sparking in her beautiful eyes. “You dare to bring this up again? That is old news, Armand.” She sliced her hand through the air as she faced him. Armand’s pulse leapt.

  “You either forgive me or you don’t. From now on? You should be worried over whether or not I will forgive you. Whether I,” she patted her chest with one palm, “can trust you again. Because right now? I could go back to Argentina with Diego and not look back. I gave you everything! I believed in you, and your dreams.”

  He grabbed her by the wrist. “Forgive me, Zamira.”

  “I don’t know that I can.” She pulled her wrist free. “Yes, I made a mistake two years ago, but I came to America to be with the man I loved. I thought we had a chance. Well, my heart is shattered. I don’t know if it will mend.”

  *****

  Armand perched on the edge of the concrete fountain, his golden-brown eyes beseeching her, but she had to harden herself against him. He’d lied by omission, accused her of not being trustworthy, when he’d been the one hiding a secret.

  Not a secret, but a child!

  A baby. One full year.

  If they were together, Chantal would always be in their lives. Naturally! She was Alex’s mother.

  Alex. Zamira stuffed her knuckle to her teeth to keep from shouting anything else. Armand brought out emotion in her, because she loved him.

  But she did not want to be a mother—especially not to another woman’s child.

  Chapter Twenty

  Zamira had to go. She’d come to America for Armand, leaving her old self behind in Argentina. She’d danced with him one last time and helped him realize that he could be the man he wanted to be—nobody else’s opinion mattered.

  She understood why he hadn’t told the world about his son. In his way, he thought to protect his child.

  His child. Not their child.

  The brutal facts of this reality broke her dreams of happy-ever-after. “I’m calling a cab.”

  “You can’t go,” Armand said, leaning forward with his hand outstretched. “Zamira, please understand. Casual dating is not an option. I’m a dad.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I do understand. My heart is so heavy with sorrow, but I get it.”

  “I love you,” he said, standing.

  It was the first time he’d said the words. She’d felt his love, knew he cared—the words were too little, too late.

  “I love you, too. Goodbye, Armand.”

  “Really? You’re going to leave, right now, in the middle of everything?” He put his arm out, gesturing to where the dance troupe waited beneath the tree.

  “Yes. I can’t be here without, as you like to remind me, being all emotional.” Yet Zamira’s eyes were dry as she faced the man she loved. She felt hollowed out and brittle.

  His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Don’t go.” He dropped his hand to his side.

  “I have to.”

  She turned on her heel, hating that she had to go back for her bag and face everyone. Get her phone. Make her escape with as much dignity as possible. Get to her hotel room and die.

  Diego joked, “Arguing already? You should have pushed him in the fountain. Want me to do it?”

  Zamira swallowed over the ache in her throat. “I have to go. I’m not feeling well.” She picked up her bag with her clothes, purse and phone.

  “You didn’t eat breakfast,” Sophie observed. “And you shouldn’t have nerves after the performance.”

  JoJo put her arm around Zamira’s shoulders. “Are you alright?”

  “I will be.” Once I get out of here. She whispered to JoJo, “I think Christine is working with Lucas. Be careful, and tell Armand?”

  She nodded, chewing on her lower lip.

  Diego picked up his bag, too. “I’ll go with you. You don’t look so hot.”

  “You don’t have to.” Zamira stepped away from the troupe.

  He joined her. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Tears burned the back of her throat. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded and lifted her hand in farewell. She called a cab service, who was five minutes away.

  Diego, quiet for a change, gave her space. When the cab pulled up, he said, “Last chance for me to dump Armand in the fountain. He hasn’t moved.”

  Her breath caught and her heart thumped. She shook her head and climbed in, giving the driver her address.

  They reached the hotel and her room without Zamira shedding a
tear, but the second that the door was locked behind her, she turned to Diego. “I’m ready to go back to Argentina.”

  Diego enveloped her in a huge hug, patting her hair as she sobbed.

  “What happened?”

  “You can’t tell a soul,” she said against his chest. “Armand has a love child.”

  Diego kept hold of her shoulders and inched backward. “What?”

  “It’s true.” She rubbed at the make-up on her face with the heel of her palm. “After he left Argentina, after I stupidly sent him away, he and Chantal-”

  “Who is that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. She got pregnant, she and Armand didn’t want a relationship, but agreed to keep the baby.”

  “Armand wouldn’t marry her? Bastardo!”

  “Calm down, Diego. I don’t know much about it all. Just that they are friends, without benefits, and have joint custody of Alex.” She pressed the sharp pain between her brows. “He never said a word.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “The diaper bag in his trunk.”

  “When you got his shoes.” Diego’s shoulders slumped.

  “Yes. He claims he wanted to tell me. Was going to tell me next weekend.”

  “You love him?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then you can’t go back to Argentina...”

  “I have to. I don’t belong here. I don’t want to be a mother to another woman’s child. I wasn’t sure about having my own kids.”

  Diego nodded. “It’s a big deal. Tell you what. Go take a shower, get that make-up off, and I’ll call the airlines to see about getting us tickets home.”

  “Thanks Diego.”

  He chuckled with satisfaction. “I knew you’d need me when he broke your heart.”

  “Really, Diego? You have to make this about you?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Just call. I want to go home.” She wanted her mother’s lemon pie and her Aunt Tildy’s blackberry brandy. And a quart of vanilla ice cream, with some more of that blackberry brandy.

  *****

  Marciana raced back to the tree holding a scoresheet with a wide grin. “Out of 300 possible points, DanceFusion scored 275!”

  The dance troupe cheered and Armand smiled over the heaviness in his heart. “Excellent. Very respectable score.”

  “Did we place?” JoJo asked.

  Marciana handed Armand the sheet. He scanned the list, his shoulders slumping. “We did not place.”

  The dancers groaned in unison.

  He kept reading and lifted his head, his lips curving upward. Now that he knew where Lucas’s poison came from, it was easier to let it go. “Not that it matters any, but Miami Dance Company scored 272.”

  Zach pulled Trevor up and twirled him around before giving his partner a hug. “I will take that as a win. No more smart-ass comments from Lucas Ferraro at Miami Dance Company.”

  “We showed ourselves as a force in the South Beach community.” Armand rubbed his eyes. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”

  Sophie tossed a piece of grass at him. “A dozen times. So, now what?”

  “Now we go back and decide what competition to do next. Or,” he paused, “we can start advertising and teach classes at the studio.” He just wanted to get in his car and find Zamira. “We also have our first paying gig to prepare for.”

  “Where?” Sophie asked.

  “My contact from the Breakers called. You guys impressed them enough for us to get invited back.”

  It was killing him to stand here and act calm when he just wanted to leave. With his luck, and how long this was taking, Zamira and Diego would be at the damn airport before he could so much as call.

  He’d snuck in a few texts that she’d ignored.

  “Woot!” Oscar brushed his knuckles against his costume. “Aren’t we hoity-toity now?”

  By the time the ceremony was over, Lucas and his group hadn’t stayed—very bad form in the eyes of the judges—Armand was ready to pull his hair out by the roots. He and the troupe discussed what to do about Christine and decided to file a formal complaint with the dance association. No word from Zamira.

  Chantal had sent him a ‘congratulations on beating Lucas’ text.

  He told his dancers that he’d see them tomorrow, and gave Oscar the key to the studio.

  “Going to check on Zamira?” Oscar asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Break a leg.”

  Armand nodded. Dancers were superstitious creatures, himself included. “Thanks.” He needed all of the luck he could get.

  He got in the car and immediately tried calling Zamira. Nothing.

  Then he dialed Chantal. “Hey, I told Zamira about Alex.”

  “Oh? And how did that go?”

  “Really bad. Actually, she found Alex’s diaper bag before the show.”

  Silence, then, “So, you didn’t actually tell her yourself?”

  “No. It was more of a confession. I hate this. I know we want to protect Alex from the press and rumors but there’s got to be another way.”

  “My pregnancy is old news now,” Chantal said.

  “So is my win on Dance, Dance USA.” What Lucas said didn’t matter. Zamira had been so right about that, too. “Hey, Lucas tried out for the show but didn’t make it.”

  “Ha! Lucas is such a slime-ball. How will your girlfriend feel about you coming out as a new papa?”

  “Zamira is not my girlfriend. I love her.”

  “I know that. Does she?”

  “I think so. I just don’t know if my love is enough to keep her.”

  “She’s not the one for you, if it isn’t.”

  “I’ve got to go, Chantal.”

  “We will make her very welcome, Armand. Make sure she knows that. She’s got to be terrified. Instant mom? I was scared, and I had nine months to get used to it.”

  Armand drove toward Zamira’s hotel, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t even think about that. Damn it, but I’ve spent today being worried about all of the wrong things.”

  Chantal laughed. “Some days are like that. Just go do the right thing, and it will fall together.”

  “Or fall apart.”

  She ended the call and Armand parked in front of Zamira’s hotel, just in time to see a cab drive away.

  He jumped out of his car, chasing after the taxi.

  Too late. Armand bowed his head. Zamira.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Armand?”

  Zamira watched the cab take Diego to the airport from the foyer of the hotel, and saw Armand jump from his silver BMW and then stop, head down.

  She pushed the door open and ran outside.

  He looked up, the clock on his cheek smeared. “You didn’t leave?”

  “That was Diego. He’s going back to Argentina.”

  Armand got to his feet and took her by the waist. “I thought I was too late. That’s the worst feeling.”

  “I can relate.” She guided them to the back of the hotel where there were tables shaded by an awning with a view of the ocean.

  “Why didn’t you go?” He took her hand and sat down across from her at a small wire-mesh table.

  It wasn’t Diego’s ‘I told you so’ before her shower, and it wasn’t Aunt Tildy’s voice telling her to grab her man and hold on, but the look in Armand’s eyes as he sat on the fountain and asked for her understanding. The love and regret and deep emotion touched and reflected everything she felt too.

  “We’ve hurt each other pretty bad,” she said, letting her hands rest in his.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Shaking her head, Zamira lifted Armand’s right hand and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “No more of that.” She released him and interlaced her fingers over her lap. “We have made mistakes. I almost made another one, getting on a plane to go home.”

  His body tensed as he listened.

  “I came here because I love you. A lot has changed in the last two months—unexpe
cted changes—but my love for you has not. I believe that you love me, too.”

  He sat on the edge of his seat. “I do.”

  “Fear kept me in Argentina instead of coming with you when you’d asked, two years ago. Fear had me booking a ticket back with Diego.” She bit her lower lip. “The same mistake.” Her eyes misted. Armand got up from his chair and knelt before her, taking her hands and covering them with his. “Had I learned nothing?”

  He wiped her damp cheek with the gentle pad of his thumb.

  “I choose to love you,” she said, her voice thick. “I just told you this afternoon that nothing was perfect. And yet, here I am, running from the man I want to spend the rest of my days with because I’m afraid of what being a mom might mean.”

  Armand’s tears fell on their joined hands, surprising her. She’d never seen him cry. “We can learn together, Zamira. All I know is that I need you in my life—you make me a better man.”

  She leaned over and pressed her lips softly to his. “You are a great man, Armando.”

  He pulled her into his lap, his mouth melding to hers with heat. Passion. “I love you.”

  She cupped his cheek, staring into his warm eyes. “I love you. I will learn how to bake cookies and color in the lines. I love your son, Alex.”

  “You haven’t met him yet.”

  Zamira covered the pounding of Armand’s heart with the palm of her hand. “He’s a part of you. I’m not leaving, or pushing you away, Armando. I’m staying. You better have room in your house.”

  “You’re sleeping with me.” Armand nipped her lower lip then lifted her up in his arms. “But I can’t promise there will be much sleeping.”

  She laughed and let her head rest against his shoulder as he carried her into the lobby of the hotel. She waved at Debbie, who nodded her approval.

  Once the elevator doors closed, shielding them from view, Armand set her down and pressed her against the wall, the rail at her back. His mouth ravished hers until she was clutching his shoulders and weak in the knees.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” He held her chin, his voice gruff. “You make me lose control.”