43. Effie
43
EFFIE
I get changed in the office bathroom as I chastise myself for signing up for the dance class tonight.
I knew my first day back would be a lot, but I completely underestimated just how exhausting.
From almost the instant I stepped off the elevator, someone has wanted to talk to me, mostly just to check in and give me their condolences in person. While I appreciate my team’s concern, I really didn’t need to keep repeating that I was, in fact, okay.
Henry had called a team meeting first thing where everyone got me up to speed with everything, and then he left us to it.
I was hoping that coming back remotely last week would mean I could hit the ground running. And to a point, I have, but there was still a lot to take on.
My team has secured some incredible funding for the foundation in my absence, and Jasmine has done a fantastic job stepping into my shoes, but there is a lot to catch up with.
My head was spinning by the time everyone started leaving for the day, but I think it’s in a good way. It still is hours later.
Being able to focus on work has meant the grief and pain I had been drowning in have been pushed a little further back. Not forgotten, I’m not sure I’ll ever lose it completely, but it hasn’t been the most prevalent feeling today. If I’m being honest, being overwhelmed takes center stage there.
All I really want to do is go home, order takeout, and curl up on the couch.
But I refuse to allow myself to do that.
So, with sore, tired eyes, I get changed before heading toward the studio where tonight’s dance class is being held.
I haven’t attended a class of any kind for years, and as I step through the doors to find huge photographs of beautiful, talented dancers lining the entrance hall, I start to second-guess myself.
This isn’t a local community dance class designed to get inactive people moving. This is a real dance company.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more out of place in my life.
With my legs frozen, my eyes move from image to image. Every type of dance is on show, but it’s the couple locked together mid step that really steals my attention.
Grams wanted to be a dancer. She used to tell me about her dreams of being a professional. It never happened for her. She met my gramps and then soon after discovered she was pregnant with my dad.
She was never bitter about the way her life went. The opposite, in fact. She loved my grandfather will all her heart. My father too, for all the good it did.
But she never stopped dancing.
Knowing that she’s looking down at me with a smile, I raise my chin and continue forward.
“Good evening,” a lady says, suddenly appearing from down a hallway. “Are you here for the ballroom class?” She slips behind the small reception desk and wakes up her computer.
“I-I am,” I stutter, my voice giving away my hesitation. “I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous.”
Lifting her eyes from the screen, she gives me an encouraging smile.
“You have nothing to worry about. Maria is a fabulous teacher, and the group is wonderful. This place will be like home in no time.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a little better.
“Can I take your name?” she asks, and I move closer.
After she’s checked me in and we’ve had a polite chat about my previous dancing experience, she directs me down the hallway to studio two.
My heart races and my hands tremble as I draw closer to the door I need.
Behind me, I hear some others enter and chat with the receptionist, but I don’t look back. If I do, there’s every chance I’ll walk straight back out the door and never return.
You’re taking control of your life. Doing things for you.
Keep moving forward.
So I do, and only a few seconds later, I push the door open.
A lady in a leotard and floaty skirt stands in front of a wall of mirrors, looking down at her cell. But the moment I step inside the room, she looks up and smiles at me.
“Hi. Welcome. Come in, come in.”
I do as I’m told and scan the rest of the room. There are a couple of other people around the edges, getting themselves ready, and I immediately panic that I don’t have shoes like them.
I should have done more research before turning up here like this.
My hand lifts to the necklace Kieran gave me and I fiddle nervously with it as she moves closer.
“I’m Maria. You must be Effie?” she guesses.
Great, I’m the only new person. That’s not going to help me blend in.
“Y-yes.” I glance around again, watching a couple warm up. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
“Nonsense. Everyone is ready to dance,” she says with a wide smile.
I’m hit with a memory of Grams so hard, it almost knocks me to the floor.
Emotion crawls up my throat and my nose itches.
No. Do not break down here.
“Another wise woman once told me the exact same thing,” I confess, my voice cracked and my eyes filling with tears.
“Well then, two of us can’t possibly be wrong.”
A sad laugh erupts.
“I don’t have shoes or?—”
“Stop worrying. I don’t expect you to be an expert on day one.”
“Thank yo?—”
“Effie?” a deep voice asks.
Twisting around, I find someone I was not expecting to see here.
“B-Brax?” I stutter, unable to believe my eyes as the giant of a man walks toward me.
He’s wearing a white athletic top that clings to his wide frame and every one of his muscles, a slim-fit pair of sweats, and…dance shoes.
What the hell?
“W-What are you doing here?” I blurt, kicking myself as I hear my own words.
He laughs.
“You dance?”
Oh my god, Effie. Shut up.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s great for balance and coordination. My mom got me into it years ago,” he tacks on when I just stare at him dumbfounded.
Of course, I know that players often take dance classes. It’s not all that unusual. I just wasn’t expecting…
“I’m actually glad you’re here. My usual partner has sprained her ankle.”
I shake my head, still staring up at him in disbelief.
“Will you,” he asks, holding his hand out, “dance with me?”
I don’t move or do anything for long seconds.
“I might be really bad,” I blurt.
“As might I.” He winks, and I begin to relax. “Come on,” he says, gesturing me over to where he’s abandoned his bag.
I lower my purse and rucksack beside his duffel bag before he talks me through a warm-up.
“When did you get back?” he asks, finally addressing the elephant in the room.
Guilt hits me, and his expression falters.
“He doesn’t know. Does he?” He doesn’t need a verbal response; he can read it on my face. “Shit, Effie. This is?—”
“I know, Brax. Every day, I’ve wanted to tell him. But…but things between us?—”
“I know what happened,” he tells me.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved he knows or not.
I close my eyes, trying to process my thoughts, but before I get a chance to figure out what to say, our teacher begins the class.
“I think we need to go for a drink after this, don’t you?” Brax says firmly.
I nod, although I’m not really sure I want to.
He’s going to tell Kieran no matter what I say.
His loyalties will be with his teammate. As they should be.
Hell, he should tell Kieran.
I barely hear our teacher as she begins the class, and it’s not until Brax turns toward me, takes one of my hands in his, and wraps the other around my waist that I come back to myself.
I stare up at him, confused, but then the music starts and he begins to move.
“Waltz,” he whispers. “Do you know the Waltz?’’
I nod, but it’s already obvious I do, because I fall into step with him as our teacher talks us through the step pattern.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I’m immediately a child again.
“That’s it, Effie. You’re such a beautiful dancer.”
Gramps’ hand tightens on mine as he guides my body, and Grams talks me through the steps.
I stumble, getting my left and right mixed up, but after a few minutes, I get into a rhythm.
“That’s it. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.”
I forget where I am and lose myself in the music, the movement, the memory. So when Brax speaks again, I startle.
“You’re a beautiful dancer.”
Dragging my eyes open, I stare up into his.
“My grams taught me when I was a child,” I say proudly.
“She did a good job. My grandmother and my mother were both avid dancers. I could dance long before I could throw a ball.”
“I guess that explains the fancy footwork on the field,” I tease.
“It sure helps.”
Over the next hour, we perfect our Waltz before moving onto a Foxtrot.
By the time Maria brings the class to a close, my heart is racing and the hair that has escaped my ponytail is sticking to the light sheen of sweat on my neck. I feel amazing, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
“Effie, you were fantastic,” Maria says, coming over to check in on me.
“It was my partner.”
She chuckles. “Of course, that helps. But you were fantastic on your own. Good rhythm and form.”
“Thank you.”
“Will we be seeing you again?” she inquires.
“Definitely. I’ve booked for Thursday.”
“Fantastic. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
She moves to another couple as Brax removes his shoes and pulls his sneakers on.
“Shall we go and get that drink?” he asks as he throws his bag over his shoulder.
Together, we walk out, the conversation flowing easily between us.
I feel like a completely different person from the nervous, overthinking woman who stepped into this building an hour ago.
We’ve barely stepped outside when Brax’s cell begins ringing.
He digs it out of his pocket and curses when he sees who it is.
“I’m really sorry, I’m going to have take a rain check.”
“Okay, sure.”
He stares at his still-ringing phone before looking back up at me.
“Talk to Kieran, okay? I won’t say anything until you do.”
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding comes rushing out of me.
“Okay. Thank you.”
The call rings off and he lowers his hand to his side.
“In return, don’t mention I was here with you. This is the only place I’ve managed to keep my attendance under wraps. I don’t need hordes of women turning up to be my next partner.”
“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”
“See you Thursday?” he asks before his cell begins ringing again.
“Thursday,” I agree before he takes off across the parking lot toward his car.
I’m still smiling and swaying my hips as I walk toward my front door.
Dancing really is good for the soul.
I’m not convinced the advertisement for that dance class wasn’t a sign from above.
Thanks, Grams.
I unlock my door, intending to order takeout and then have a quick shower.
My apartment is dark as I step inside, and I don’t bother turning the hallway light on. It’s not until I get to the living room that I flip a switch, and the second I do, a scream rips from my throat.