The Sweetest Fix

by Bailey, Tessa

  After a beat, she nodded against his chest. “Do you?”

  Having a family had always seemed like something very far in the future. Or something that he could take or leave, not sure he wanted to permanently disturb the solitude he’d built around himself. Solitude seemed pretty overrated now. She’d only been in his apartment twice and he was already dreading the moment she’d have to leave. And that’s when it happened. The image of Reese waddling around his apartment with a baby in her stomach got stuck in his head and wouldn’t budge. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, pulling the comforter up over the both of them and settling her head onto his shoulder. “I do.”

  Chapter 18

  The week leading up the Valentine’s Day went by way too fast.

  If only it was possible to hit pause and savor every second of her time with Leo. Every second of the open calls she attended, showing up first in line and giving it every grain of her effort, living her dream of dancing on Broadway stages, even if it was only for an audition.

  There was a sense of being on the verge of something extraordinary. Of having a breakthrough just within her reach. Not only with dancing, but with life in general. She was in love with a man. A kind, thoughtful, wonderful, occasionally grouchy man who never left her guessing, never failing to give her a sense of security. Belonging.

  A man who made love to her like a million more times wouldn’t be enough.

  Her friendships—with the aspiring dancers she ran into at every open call—sprouted buds and bloomed a little more each day. With Leo knee-deep in crafting the Fixes and her evenings unavailable, thanks to her fake job, they spent afternoons together. Talking, cooking together in his kitchen, thoroughly messing up his sheets every chance they got.

  In the evenings, she got to know Cori better, eating cheap from the street carts on the floor of their closet-rooms and listening to K-pop. They walked the city and visited sites from their favorite movies, people watched in Central Park and gave each other back massages when their muscles burned from overuse.

  Yes, for a week, she walked around in a near-stupor, but with Valentine’s Day looming, the fissure in her gut widened. With every open call, she came a little closer to reaching the final cut, but never quite got there, always being passed over for someone with more experience. And so on the morning of Valentine’s Day, Reese stood shivering in the cold, waiting to be called into the theater where her favorite musical was performed nightly, one final shot in her pocket. The longest shot of all.

  Over the last seven days, she’d lost herself in the experience of being in love, with a man and a city, not allowing herself to reach this point of near-hopelessness. Oh, it was upon her now, though. Her limbs were almost numb with the knowledge that her bags were all but packed, her sublet running out tonight, and it was a very bad time to lose feeling in her joints.

  Reese shook out her hands. Stretched her heel up to her butt, listening to the counts through the door, already knowing them by heart. She went over them in her head nonetheless, trying to psych herself up for the biggest moment of her life. This needed her full concentration. Leo’s image continued to demand her attention until she gave up trying to banish it. No way around it, she wasn’t only dancing for herself. This was for them, too.

  The metal side door of the theater groaned open and a man stepped out with a clipboard. “Reese Stratton.”

  “That’s me,” she said, pasting on a confident expression. Hefting up her bag, she followed him into the theater, her stomach rippling with trepidation at the sight of the six-person panel. They were spread out at a long table, identical reusable cups in front of them. They looked bored as they gave her a now familiar once-over, already making notations strictly based on her appearance.

  In the last row of the orchestra, dancers sat side by side. The lucky few out of dozens who’d made it to the next round so far—and that didn’t take into account the other hopefuls still waiting outside for their shot.

  Reese kept her poise, dropped her bag and took her position on stage. The music started and she vanished into the moves, casting herself as the femme fatale with nothing left to lose, which couldn’t be the further from the truth.

  She had everything to lose.

  The audition went by in a blur, muscle memory taking over, every note of the song pounding in her blood. She was transported back to her childhood bedroom in Wisconsin where she danced in front of the floor-length mirror hanging from her closet, a framed Wicked poster reflected in the wall behind her. How many hours did she spend trying to roll a fedora down her arm and catch it without looking?

  And then it was over.

  The music stopped and she held her pose for three counts, before folding her hands in front of her waist and waiting, controlling her breathing as best as possible when the wind was struggling in and out of her lungs.

  They passed her headshot right to left and leaned back to confer.

  “Wait in the back, please,” one of the panel members said without looking up. “We’ll call you up for the next round.”

  She started, positive she’d heard them wrong.

  The one who’d spoken raised her eyebrow.

  Reese nodded and mumbled a thank you, jetting off the stage before she could change her mind. But her heart was in her mouth the entire walk to the rear of the theater. The back row dwellers welcomed her to their ranks with nods of approval and she sat, forcing herself to acknowledge the accomplishment of making it past round one. Up against the best in the business. If nothing else, she’d have this memory and she’d savor it.

  It took another two hours to complete the first round after which the dancers who’d made it through were given a fifteen-minute warning and everyone rose to stretch, including Reese. They were brought back up on stage, this time with a choreographer.

  “We’re adding a number this spring,” she announced without preamble. “It’s not part of the show, but an interactive interlude involving members of the chorus line before the curtain. A show isn’t enough anymore, audiences want a goddamn experience. So we’re going to give them one. Eyes on me for the choreo. And—”

  Reese watched through eyes that suddenly felt bloodshot as the woman executed the moves, ones she hadn’t practiced for a decade in her bedroom, her body moving unconsciously, trying to memorize the counts, the steps, the pauses and beats. The choreographer ran through the dance twice before an unfamiliar piece of music filtered down from overhead and everyone fell into lines, their positions perfect. Poised and prepared for a curveball like this. Not even batting an eyelash.

  Tamping down on her nausea, Reese distanced herself as much as possible among the others and waited for the count to start, reaching deep, all the way down for some reserve of talent and confidence. Calling on every year of experience, every loss and triumph, every crying jag in the back seat of her mother’s car, every weeknight spent icing ankles and knees. A glimmer of the night she danced in Bryant Park came to mind, how at ease she’d felt in that moment, how devoid of pressure, and she used that. She just danced. Felt every note. Somehow she didn’t have to overthink every movement or facial expression, she just let it happen. Let the notes propel her.

  Her name was called for the next round.

  She watched in disbelief as some of the most talented dancers she’d ever performed beside hurried off the stage, gathering their things. Don’t dwell. Don’t think. She stayed in the zone, whatever place she’d transcended to seemed to extend her limbs, make her fingers reach higher, her toes pointing that much more. And she made it through to the next round, too.

  The final one.

  It was down to her and three other dancers. For a spot in Chicago.

  If her blisters weren’t throbbing, she would assume she’d never woken up this morning and was still asleep on her beanbag chair. The gravity of the situation threatened to bury her like an avalanche, but she kept her head up, breathing even, relief prickling her like a thousand needles when the choreographer announced the final routine wou
ld be from the musical. Not the interactive section.

  Quite simply, she left her body during the piece, hitting beats and stopping on dimes, emotion and heartache breathing from her pores. This was the stage where it all happened. The seats where her audience would applaud stretched out in front of her, lush and velvety, history held within its walls. She danced for love, all different forms and she didn’t leave a single regret lingering behind.

  When she song ended, she glanced left and right, finding she was one of three dancers remaining. Three. The top three. She was in it. Her heart could barely carry the knowledge of that without exploding into fragments.

  Several moments passed while the panel conferred, their spokesperson eventually standing, this time with a smile on his face. “We’re going to need the day to think this over. Thank you for your time. Keep your phones with you through the evening. We’ll call you.”

  * * *

  There was no description for what Reese felt that night, hurrying up the avenue to the bar where she was meeting Leo, Tad and Jackie for drinks. Hopefulness had her floating ten feet off the ground, musical notes trilling in her head. She hadn’t caught a single breath since leaving the theater this afternoon. With her phone clutched in her hand, the volume cranked all the way up, she found herself desperate to see Leo. Maybe she couldn’t share everything about her day, but she could share this mood. This indescribable feeling. And there was no one else she wanted to share it with more.

  When Leo suggested they go out with Tad and Jackie for Valentine’s Day, she’d been grateful. With her fate hanging in the balance, it had sounded like the exact low commitment activity that would keep things one day at a time…until she knew she could give Leo an unlimited number of days. Now? She kind of wished they could be alone.

  Still, when Reese walked into the Upper West Side bar and spotted the trio, Jackie waving her over excitedly, she couldn’t contain her joy. She had people. Plans. She had hope. It was so much more than she had that afternoon just over two weeks ago when she missed her audition, nowhere to go, no idea what to do.

  “Hey,” Reese said, her heart walloping when Leo turned and stood at her approach, affection sweeping across his face. Stepping into his arms and letting herself be kissed required no thought. Her heart was in control. “Hey,” she said gruffly, giving him his own private greeting. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  His fingers brushed her temple, down the fall of her hair. “The happiest.” He sighed and shook his head. “Tad, I see you taking pictures with your phone.”

  “Excuse me for immortalizing this momentous occasion.” Tad slapped his phone down. “You’ll thank me one day.”

  Reese laughed into Leo’s shoulder, allowing him to pull out a stool to their high-top table and boost her into it. Instead of taking his own seat again, he stood beside her, an arm draped over the back. Ignoring the tingles wrought by having the side of her body pressed against him wasn’t easy, but she took a deep breath and smiled at Jackie and Tad. “So how was the big day? You must have been swamped.”

  “Oh my gosh, you should have seen it,” Jackie answered, holding up her martini. “We had a line around the block. The big man worked the front and everything. Dare I say he was not only polite, but charming at certain intervals?”

  Tad tapped his glass against Jackie’s. “You do dare! And I concur. As soon as Reese has a drink, we’ll toast to the new and improved man in our midst.”

  “No, we won’t,” Leo grumbled, signaling a waitress. “Red wine?”

  “Yes, please,” Reese responded for his ears alone, leaning in to say, “Worked the front of the house, did you? I’m impressed.”

  He hummed and moved closer, seemingly distracted by her eyelashes. “I have you to thank for that.”

  Throat tight, Reese shook her head. “No, I might have given you some encouragement, but you executed. Just wait. People are going to become repeat customers now. Because of you, Leo Bexley.”

  “They just might,” he said, albeit reluctantly. “Time will tell.”

  She wet her lips, those words causing her pulse to stumble. “Yes, it will.”

  For long moments, they simply looked at each other, the spell only broken when the waitress approached with a tray. Leo ordered for her and a little while later, they loaded the table with appetizers and another round of drinks, everyone laughing at Tad’s impression of the customer who arrived that morning to pick up the Fix for her dog, whispering over the counter to Tad so the dog wouldn’t hear and spoil the surprise.

  Leo continued to stand beside Reese, arm around her shoulders, his thumb strumming up and down the outside of her arm. She had the warmest feeling, all though her limbs. The buzz of love, laughter, and yes, wine, fully infiltrating her system. She’d almost sunk completely into the warmth and let it swallow her whole when her cell phone buzzed on the table.

  The bubble of comfort surrounding Reese popped, her heart ricocheting around her ribs. A Manhattan phone number moved left to right across the screen.

  This was it. The biggest call of her life.

  “We tripled our Valentine’s Day profit this year, thanks to the Sweetest Fix, Reese,” Jackie was saying, saluting with her glass. “A showstopper of an idea.”

  “I’m so glad I could help,” Reese breathed, stumbling over her words while attempting to stand. Cell phone in hand, she backed away from the table. “I have to take this call really quick. I’ll just be right back.”

  Leo clearly noticed her odd behavior, but only nodded once, bringing his beer to his mouth. “All right, sweetheart.”

  Reese forced a reassuring smile for him and cut through the high traffic bar, trying to reach the bathroom. The phone was on its fourth ring when she finally pushed into the darkly lit bathroom, swiping to answer and pressing the receiver to her ear. “Hello, this is Reese Stratton.”

  “Reese Stratton. This is Emile from today’s audition.” He paused. “Listen, I won’t beat around the bush. Your talent and drive show a lot of promise, but unfortunately, it came down to experience and we had to go another way. I’m sorry.”

  A sledgehammer drove into her stomach and she pitched backwards, her back landing against the bathroom wall. “Oh,” she said, winded, pain blooming in the center of her chest. “I understand. Thank you for letting me know.”

  Reese ended the call, her hand fell limply to her side, her breath coming in fast bursts.

  That’s it. Curtains.

  She’d failed.

  Making it to the top three didn’t matter. It may have been the furthest she’d ever gotten, but there would be nothing to show for it. She’d return to Wisconsin a former dancer, not a current one. Her everything, her all, wasn’t good enough. The dream would remain exactly that. A dream. The hope of a child, not the reality of a woman. A woman who had to face the real world now. Had to adapt. Find something new. Let it all go.

  Her limp hand rose against swiftly, forming a fist and cramming against her mouth.

  She wouldn’t be the only one affected by this. Some part of her had truly believed she would succeed in the end. Subconsciously, she’d convinced herself of it. That the amount of work and time and diligence she put into becoming a working dancer would pay off. It hadn’t, though. It hadn’t. And now she couldn’t stay in New York, not even one more day. Couldn’t afford it and couldn’t be with the man with whom she’d fallen in love.

  Oh God, she’d been very shortsighted about how this moment would feel when it became imminent. Dread and anxiety turned her skin clammy, the ground seeming to loom high, higher, up near her knees. What was Leo going to say? If his whole opinion of her changed in the blink of an eye, could she even blame him?

  No.

  No, but she couldn’t back away from this. She couldn’t just leave for Wisconsin in the morning without telling him everything. In fact, she couldn’t go another second without exposing herself as a pathetic wannabe dancer, instead of a successful one, as badly as it was going to hurt to be a failure in his eyes.
Whatever the consequences, she would face them. He deserved to know. At least she could sleep at night knowing she’d never used him. That whether she succeeded or not, her abilities would be the deciding factor.

  At the moment, that reminder provided precious little comfort.

  With her stomach tied in knots, Reese left the bathroom, her legs weighing a thousand pounds apiece. Slowly, she wove her way through the restaurant crowd, her mouth growing drier by the second, palms coated in sweat.

  When she’d almost reached the table, she noticed Leo was speaking to a man, though she couldn’t see who it was, because his back was turned. Leo spotted her approaching and tapped the man on the shoulder. The newcomer turned…

  And her world turned sluggish, void of sound.

  Bernard Bexley.

  Leo’s father was there, scrutinizing her curiously, his countenance as shrewd as she’d always imagined. Looking nothing like his son. A falcon beside a bear. Reese’s feet stopped moving, keeping her paused in the middle of the restaurant until Leo called her name, frowning with concern. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t run, even if her fight or flight instincts were blaring in the back of her head. With a stomach full of bees, she started moving again, forcing a polite smile on to her face.

  “Reese, this is my father. I saw him walking past the bar and ran outside to grab him.” Oh God, he looked so sweetly nervous about them meeting. Why couldn’t this just be a normal introduction between father and girlfriend? Leo deserved that. “Dad, this is Reese,” he finished.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Reese said, sounding strangled.

  Bernard studied her long enough to make it uncomfortable. “Yes, I know who she is.” His voice was rich, demanded attention. “You’re the girl who missed her audition with me.”

  Time seemed to stand still.

  Jackie and Tad were suspended in animation.