I held out my hand, palm up. She immediately put hers in mine, lacing our fingers together.
“You got this.”
She took a long, deep breath then squared her shoulders. “I got this.”
“You crushed it, babe.”
“I’m trying my very hardest to be modest and not jinx myself here, but I so did.”
Sofia laughed and fell into my side, letting her head rest on my shoulder as the car wove through the dark streets toward SoHo.
In just a long weekend, I’d gotten used to riding in this position. It would be strange going home and driving myself. It would be stranger not having Sofia at my side.
“I’m so full.” Sofia sighed. “Dinner was delicious.”
“Best steak I’ve had in years.” Though if asked, I’d swear on my life nothing could beat Xavier’s grill.
The opening had gone as well as I’d imagined. I’d stayed in the wings, just watching and waiting. I’d kept my focus entirely on her in case she needed a reassuring nod.
She had at first, but then she’d stepped into her own.
And I couldn’t have been prouder.
The studio had been filled with friends and family members, since most of the staff had invited their significant others to come for the opening.
Sofia started the evening by thanking each employee by name. She gave a short speech, expressing how much it meant that they’d take a gamble on a new company. Then she raised her glass of champagne and toasted Midtown Dance Studio.
The room cheered.
After that, she welcomed the entire group to the studio, opening it up for an informal self-guided tour. Most everyone had a flute of champagne in their hand as they walked through the studio, while Sofia kept a bottle in hers, refilling glasses until the reception was over.
There were ten kids for the first class, all girls in pink tights, black leotards and huge smiles. Besides the three instructors in the studio, the rest of us sat with the parents in the observation area and watched the girls learn about first, second and third positions.
When the class was over, Sofia handed the duties over to Daniel to close down, and we rode with her family in their limousine to dinner.
The restaurant we’d gone to had required jackets. They only took reservations. We’d walked in, not having either, and found ourselves in a small room at the back with a private waitstaff and bartender.
“Your family is nice,” I told her.
“They are. I’m glad they got to meet you.”
“Same here.”
They were all down-to-earth and genuine. They used their wealth but didn’t flaunt it. Not once had they made it known they stood about ten classes above mine. They were just . . . people. People with money.
Her granny was a kick, her attitude and sarcasm reminding me of Hazel. Lillian was sweet, a more sensitive soul than the others. Kind of like her youngest daughter. Her dad and Aubrey were a pair. They’d started to talk about work during the appetizers, but Logan had shot them a look and it had ceased immediately.
“My dad . . .” Sofia trailed off.
I waited for her to continue, but all I heard was a sniffle. “Your dad, what?”
“He didn’t take his phone out.” She leaned back and looked up with tears in her eyes.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No.” She wiped her eyes dry. “No, it’s a good thing. He’s always on his phone. But tonight, he wasn’t just there, he was present. When I was a kid, he never once made it to my dance recitals. I never saw him at the dinner table without his phone in his hand. He was always working. I don’t think I realized how angry I’ve been about that. But after tonight, it feels like I can let some of that go.”
“Good for you.”
She fell back into my arm, clutching it tighter than before. “I can’t thank you enough for being here. I wish you could stay longer.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Could you? I know you’ve got your new properties, but can they survive a few extra days without you?”
I sighed and shook my head. “No, I need to get back.”
There was a ton of work to be done, and I needed to put some hours in at the bar. And though both of those things could have been pushed back a day or two, it was best we cut this short.
Glen pulled up outside her building and opened his door, ready to get out and open ours, but I stopped him. “I got it.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned back and smiled at Sofia. “Congratulations on your opening tonight.”
“Thank you. Sorry to keep you out late.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He looked to me. “Safe travels home, Mr. Magee.”
I nodded, opened the door and helped Sofia out. Then we went inside, waving to her doorman as we passed through the lobby and right to the elevator.
The moment we stepped foot inside her penthouse, Sofia kicked off her heels and flew into my arms, wrapping them tightly around my waist.
I didn’t hesitate, holding her right back.
“Am I going to see you again?” she whispered.
“Someday.” I hoped.
“I don’t want this to be the end.”
I dropped my cheek to the top of her head, wishing we had more time and knowing we didn’t.
Our futures followed two different paths. Paths that ran in two different directions. Our time at their intersection was over.
“Tell me something. Can you look into the future and see us together?”
I wanted her answer to be yes. I wanted her to paint me a picture of a future where Sofia Kendrick and Dakota Magee stayed together. Because for all the hours I’d spent trying, I sure as hell couldn’t imagine one.
We were a void. An empty, black box.
Her frame slumped. “No. Honestly, I’ve tried. But I just can’t see it.”
“Me neither.”
She sniffled, her chin quivering against my chest. “I hate this.”
“So do I.”
Sofia leaned back, giving me eyes full of unshed tears. “One more night.”
One more night.
I bent, scooping her up under the knees, and carried her down the long hallway and up the stairs to her bedroom. There we spent the night together, forsaking sleep like we had during our last night in Montana. We spent the hours holding tight to those last precious moments.
When morning came, Sofia and I stood on the sidewalk outside her building. Her eyes were red rimmed and full of despair. I hated that when she let loose, when she cried after the car parked at the curb pulled away, I wouldn’t be here to hold her.
“So, I’ll see you when I see you.” She forced a smile.
I nodded. “See you when I see you.”
“You can call me. Whenever you want, call me.”
“Same to you.”
Neither of us would be making that call.
The first good-bye in Lark Cove had been hard. This one, nearly impossible. I wouldn’t be able to walk away from a third. Phone calls and texts would only make things harder.
“Take care of yourself, Sofia Kendrick.” I cupped her cheek, letting the warmth from my palm heat her skin. Then I dropped a soft kiss to her lips and another to her temple.
My temple.
Letting her go was the hardest thing I’d done in years, but I dropped my hand, turned and walked to the car.
I didn’t look back. In the reflection of the car’s tinted windows, she waved. She began to cry as she whispered, “Good-bye, Dakota Magee.”
Three months later . . .
“I think we need to hire another ballet instructor,” Daniel said.
We were standing side by side in front of the observation window, watching the afternoon advanced ballet class.
“I could do it.”
His face snapped to mine, but I kept watching as the girls practiced their pliés. “I thought you didn’t want to be tied to a schedule.”
I shrugged. “I’m here anyway. It would be fun.”
In the three months since the studio had opened, something had happened I would have bet my trust fund would be impossible.
I had turned into a workaholic.
I was the first one here each day, coming straight to the studio after meeting with my trainer at six each morning. I’d make coffee, tidy up if needed, then settle into my office, working there until the instructors showed up at two each afternoon to prep for class. Once the children arrived, I’d visit with parents and loiter in the reception area. And when everyone had left for the night, I’d let Daniel escort me out, and I’d lock up behind us both.
I wasn’t sure if the studio’s locks would accept anyone else’s key but mine.
Work was the best thing for me, I’d learned. Staying home was too lonely and depressing. At least here, I was happy.
Or, happy-ish.
Was this why Dad and Aubrey worked so much? Were they avoiding things at home? Or did they just love their jobs?
At the moment, mine was a combination of both. I’d built ultimate flexibility into my job, but I had no desire to use it. So if I was going to be here anyway, why not teach?
“How about this?” Daniel turned his back to the glass. “What if we advertised for an instructor, and if we don’t find one we want to hire, you can do it? If you feel like teaching, you can pop in and out. And if we need one and you’re here, you can always be a substitute teacher.”
“Or I could be the teacher.”
“But what if you decide to take a vacation? Like an impromptu trip to, say . . . I don’t know. Montana?”
I shot him a glare. “Would you stop with that?”
“Sorry.” He held up his hands. “It was only a suggestion.”
“You’re worse than my parents.”
My parents were quite enchanted with Dakota. It was a welcome change, considering their cold attitude when I’d brought home other men. My father had barely spoken to Bryson the first time I’d invited him to a family dinner.
But with Dakota, everything was different. My father liked his entrepreneurial spirit. Granny loved his ability to banter. Aubrey liked that he was hardworking. And Mom had simply appreciated he’d beat the waiter to pull out her chair at the dinner table.
Like me, they’d all fallen for Dakota. It had taken nearly all of the past three months to get them to stop asking when he’d be visiting again. They didn’t understand why we weren’t in a relationship.
Especially when the relationships I had chosen had been with such losers. Mom especially was bewildered that I’d let Dakota go.
What my family didn’t realize was that we’d set each other free.
It was for the best. I kept telling myself that. If he couldn’t see us together, we’d be doomed before we started.
As much as he was his own man who made his own path, I knew his family’s influence played a part in his decisions—whether he wanted to admit it or not. For so long, he’d been taught to pick a suitable partner, a woman who shared his heritage.
I was not that woman.
Maybe the reason he couldn’t picture us together was because I’d never be right. It was crushing. Soul crushing. For once, I’d found the right guy. And for once, I wasn’t the right girl.
The irony had sent me into my new workaholic state. Was three months long enough for that self-appointed title?
Whatever. I was keeping it. Because that was my heritage.
“Fine. I’ll settle for substitute teacher,” I told Daniel then walked away from the window and down the hallway to my office.
“You are the boss.” Daniel followed me and took the guest chair in front of my desk. “You can overrule me.”
“No, you’re right. We should hire an instructor. If we can find someone with a few professional accolades, that might help with fundraising too.”
“If you keep raising money, we’re going to need to expand.”
“Should we?”
His face blanched. “I was joking.”
“But what if you weren’t?”
Daniel thought about it for a moment, pondering the idea. We’d only been open for three months, but our classes were full and I had a waiting list of schools with children interested in attending in lieu of an after-school program.
We’d raised three years’ worth of operating costs at our grand opening gala, seven times what we’d projected. It put us in a great spot to run the studio for years. And worst-case scenario, if everything fell to pieces, I was not above using my trust fund to supplement the donations.
Expanding meant twice the cost. Maybe three times. And it meant finding a larger building or opening a satellite studio.
But the prospect of another huge project to consume my every waking minute was so tempting I was practically drooling as Daniel sat, silently contemplating my suggestion.
“It’s so soon.” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous habit I’d noticed early on in our working relationship.
“Let’s think about it. Hire your instructor. Run some numbers because I know you, and you won’t be able to sleep until you have everything analyzed in a spreadsheet. Then let’s talk. But I don’t want to slow down. We have momentum right now, and I don’t want to lose it.”
The authority in my voice was surprising. Exciting, even. Usually, he was the one giving me orders, even though I was technically the boss.
Daniel nodded, still deep in thought. When he stood up from the chair, I knew I’d sparked an interest because he went to his neighboring office and closed the door.
Daniel only closed his office door when he needed to concentrate.
I had a feeling I’d be getting an email in the middle of the night with colorful graphs and charts showing me exactly what an expansion would entail.
Alone in my office, I spent the rest of the evening returning a few emails and handwriting thank-you notes to our latest donors. I said good night to the last class of children, waited for the instructors to grab their things and leave, then knocked on Daniel’s office door.
“Time to go home.”
“Huh?” He looked up from the mess of papers on his desk. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and gotten out his reading glasses.
“It’s seven o’clock.”
He looked at the clock on the wall, then frowned. “I’m not done. But if I don’t leave now, I’ll miss dinner and that would make my beautiful wife very angry.”
“We can’t have that.” I smiled and left him to collect my things. With my new Chanel bag slung over my shoulder, I shut off the light to my office just as Daniel came out of his.
We walked outside together, stepping into the muggy evening air. This summer had been miserably hot, and even this late in the evening, mid-August was brutal. Dressed lightly in linen trousers and a sleeveless silk top, I was still sweating.
“Where’s your driver?” Daniel asked after I locked up the studio’s door, seeing that my town car was notably absent from the street.
“I told him to give me an extra thirty minutes. I’m going to go grab an iced coffee.” I pointed to the coffee shop on the next block over. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.” He waved, setting off on the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
I started toward the coffee shop, though I didn’t really need the caffeine. I just wasn’t ready to go home.
It would be empty there. By the time I made it down to SoHo, it would be getting dark. Carrie had left hours ago after making me a dinner I could simply reheat. Which left me a huge, spacious penthouse with nothing but the television to keep me company.
Alone and bored, I’d no doubt stare at Dakota’s name in my phone. I wanted to hear his voice more than I wanted the carbs I’d told Carrie to cut from the menu for the next two weeks.
As I walked to the coffee shop, a tall man with dark hair ducked into a cab across the street, and I did a double take. For a split second, I thought it was Dakota. It wasn’t.
That old cliché was true. You saw the one you loved around ev
ery corner.
“Don’t scream.”
My ears registered the voice before my brain caught up in time for me to panic.
While I’d been looking across the street, a man had slid right into my side and wrapped his arm around my hips. He smelled like rotten eggs and cigarettes.
My feet froze on the sidewalk, my heels skidding as I tried to keep my balance. I pushed the stranger away, but he held on tighter, his fingertips biting into my flesh.
Something pointed was pressed into my side, but I was too scared to look down and see what it was. A gun probably, or maybe a knife.
Panic seized the air in my lungs, and my vision went blurry as he whispered in my ear, “It’s a good evening to hand over that purse.”
I stayed still as he stripped the gold-chain strap from my shoulder. Then he took a long, audible sniff of my hair, pressed a kiss to my temple and was gone.
Along with my purse, keys, phone. Everything I’d brought to the studio with me this morning.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk. The entire encounter had lasted thirty seconds at most, but I was struggling to comprehend it. Did that just happen? It wasn’t dark. I wasn’t in an alley or a sketchy part of town. I’d been walking to a coffee shop in a wealthy neighborhood. And I’d gotten mugged.
Police. I needed to call the police.
I took a step and my ankle gave way. I caught myself, standing upright again. I went to try another step, but the other ankle turned too. I was about ten seconds away from melting into a puddle of tears when a familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb, and Glen got out of the driver’s seat.
“Ms. Kendrick?”
I looked at him, still unable to move my feet. “I-I got mugged.”
His eyes went wide as he rushed over. He helped me to the car then sped off toward the nearest police station.
“Are you hurt?” Glen asked into the rearview mirror.
“What?”
“Are you hurt? Your temple?”
I dropped my hand, not realizing I’d had my fingers pressed to the place where the mugger had kissed me. “No, I’m not hurt.”
But I had been violated. That thief had put his hands on me. His lips.
My hand went back up to my temple, rubbing the feeling of his lips away.
Tinsel Page 20
