Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“O h my gosh, Bailey. You shouldn’t have danced on that.”
Bailey winced as Coco removed Bailey’s tights. The dark gray surrounding her right big toe wasn’t the first time she’d seen such a thing. “I’ll ice it, and rest it as best I can.”
Coco sighed. “You’ve got the waltz this week, right?”
“Yeah. That should be easier.”
Coco grabbed Bailey’s Uggs and gently slipped them on. “Are you coming home with me or going with him?”
No guesses who “him” was. She winced again.
“You don’t have to go with him,” Coco said. “Just tell me you’re not thinking of flying back to Winnipeg.”
The thought of her own bed drew longing, but she shook her head. “We agreed to stay here and rehearse this week.” She winced. “And all I want to do is put ice on this and go to bed.”
“And you can do that as soon as we get you back to my place.” Coco frowned. “Unless lover boy…”
“Stop,” Bailey begged. “Please stop. He’s not, he can’t be. We barely know each other. He certainly doesn’t know the important stuff.”
Like what Erin had alluded to before. Well, not alluded. Pretty much said outright. Bailey had worked so hard since Mark’s rejection, and she didn’t throw up like that anymore. But that season in her life, the season that had ultimately pirouetted her into a new career, had shaped her, and while she’d worked so hard to leave it behind, it didn’t take much to question things again. Like everything that had happened tonight. Oh, she hoped Luc wouldn’t be out there, being all kind and concerned. She might really cry then. And if the producers saw her cry, then what might happen?
Already she’d had the lead choreographer express his disappointment with her mistake in the pro dance earlier. That, along with Miguel’s death stares, had really rocked her confidence. She knew she needed to shake it off, but some days were a lot easier to do that than others. And everything that had happened tonight—the misstep, the rumors about her and Luc, his parents meeting her like she and Luc were a couple, Erin’s unwitting reference to bulimia—had made her feel so fragile she might crack at any moment. And the sunshiny persona would fall to reveal the woman who was trying so hard to make up for past mistakes.
The glitter costume was hung up, exchanged for her sweats and a top warm enough for the night’s cool temperatures. Her Uggs provided welcome softness, even if her toe still throbbed. Thoughts of Coco’s apartment beckoned, a shower, bed, quiet, sleep, and maybe more ibuprofen.
Then she exited. And found Luc waiting at the door.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quickly.
“Fine. Well, my toe is really sore, so I’m going to go ice it and lie down.”
“Where? At the hotel?”
“Coco’s,” she reminded him.
“Oh.” His shoulders drooped, like her answer disappointed him.
That’s right. His parents. “I’m sorry I can’t spend time with your folks, but please tell them I enjoyed meeting them.”
He nodded. “Will you, um,” he glanced around, then added more softly, “still be able to dance next weekend?”
She nodded. She had to. She’d had another look at her contract and it seemed to say that she actually had to dance at the third round, not just get to it. Not dancing next weekend would be the equivalent of exiting in round two, so yes. “We’ve got the waltz.” And she would dance it, if it killed her.
He glanced at her, then down at his feet, then back at her. “Can I, uh, help you with your bags or anything?”
Oh. “Um, sure.”
She hobbled back inside to where Coco was still talking with Michelle, one of the other dancers. Coco glanced at her then nodded. “Catch you later, Mish. My girl Bailey needs me.”
She sure did. Coco mightn’t be a Christian, but she knew this scene way better than Poppy or any of Bailey’s other close dance friends. And having someone to guide her through the labyrinth of emotions would be helpful right now.
They exited the dressing room, and Luc straightened from the pillar where he’d been standing, talking on his phone. He ended the call.
“You’re still here?” Coco asked him.
“As you can see.” He bowed, in a graceful movement Bailey bet he wouldn’t have been able to do a few weeks ago.
Her chest squeezed. Was it really just such a short time they’d known each other?
“Hey Coco, would you mind if I talk to Bails for a moment?”
“How long is this moment, hmm?” Coco put her hand on her hip, her gaze swiveling from Luc to Bailey then back again. “I thought you had parents to see.”
“I do. But I also have to see Bails as well. In private.”
Coco sighed. “Bails, do you want to speak to him, or come home with me?”
The little kid inside might want to run away, but the adult had to stay. “I’ll talk with him.”
“Want me to wait?”
Bailey shook her head. “You know these tough hockey players, once they start talking there’s no shutting them up.”
As expected, Coco laughed, but as she hugged her goodbye, Bailey caught the look of hurt on Luc’s face.
Oh. She hadn’t meant to do that. She moved to him, held his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted a shoulder. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”
“I do want.” And she suddenly did. More than icing her sore toe, more than sleep. She wanted to wipe that look of dismay from his eyes, and let him know she cared for him. “But your parents?”
“They can wait. You’re more important.”
Her shock at his postponing his parents faded in the sweetness of his last three words. She’d sensed that, that she was important to him. Which again showed why they needed to have a real conversation about real things, and clearly define boundaries before their next dance, the Viennese Waltz, blurred things again. If people thought their moves before had chemistry, wait until the most romantic dance of all put them in a spin.
They moved outside and he held her bags in one hand, her waist in the other. She caught how some producers looked at her, the way one of the singers eyed her askance, but nobody said anything. He found a taxi, he mentioned a restaurant, and her heart sank. “Are we going to see your parents?”
“We’re speaking to them for five minutes tops, promise.” He shot her a look.
She cringed. “I don’t know why I said that to Coco before. But I was joking.”
“Yeah, well,” he sighed, and her heart filled with fresh regret, “so was I. We’re talking five hours, not minutes.”
“Luc!” She slapped his arm, laughing, and he grinned at her.
“That’s what I like to hear. I missed hearing you laugh tonight.”
And just like that, the mood in the taxi tilted back to serious again.
“Five minutes, I promise. And I won’t ever break my word to you, Bailey.”
She nodded. She knew that. They mightn’t have known each other long, but she knew he would keep his promises. There was a core of goodness in this man, something her heart yearned for.
He picked up her hand, studying it, like it was made of porcelain, then the taxi slowed and stopped. Luc asked the driver to stay, with her bags, for which he’d get a sizable tip later, and they got out and entered the building.
He spoke to the ma?tre d', and they were immediately shown to a booth.
“Lucas, oh, and Bailey. I’m so glad to see you again! Although you don’t look quite so glamorous now, do you?”
“Hello Mrs. Blanchard. Mr. Blanchard.”
A volley of French flowed between parents and son, and Bailey recognized certain words, but not enough to follow too closely. She shouldn’t be surprised Luc spoke French, he was from Quebec after all, but the French they spoke was different to what she’d picked up while dancing in France. Her gaze dropped to the table, where they’d started their meals, and she wondered why Luc had brought her here.
Then the ma?tre d' returned with two boxes and Luc thanked him, kissed his mom on the cheek and hugged his dad, which seemed reason for her to do likewise, then Luc paid, and they returned to the taxi and her waiting bags, not five minutes later.
“How long was that?” he asked the driver.
“Four minutes, forty-two seconds.”
Luc shot her a smirk, and she laughed. “Okay, Mister I Can Do Pithy Conversations With My Parents, where to now?”
“I prefer Mister I Keep My Promises, but okay.” He glanced at her. “You need to eat, so do I. So we’re going to eat, and talk, and you’re going to get your foot seen to.”
“But where?”
“You’ll see.”
A minute later, they’d pulled up out the front of a tall apartment building not too far from Lake Ontario. “Who lives here?”
He grabbed her bags, and steadied her as she exited the vehicle. “My friend Dan Walton and his wife Sarah. They’re in Muskoka right now, at his cottage, and I called him and asked if we could stay.”
Her stomach tensed. “You don’t mean staying here together?”
He keyed in a code, the door opened, and they moved to the elevators and got in. “I’ve called a doctor who does home visits to come check your toe, then you’re either going to Coco’s or resting here if the doc says not to move, while I go stay back at the hotel.”
“You’ve called a doctor?”
He shrugged. “You’re an athlete. You need your toe to work. And I understand you didn’t want the show’s producers to know, so this way you get to avoid that, get to avoid people seeing you in public or any weird questions if we were seen going to the hotel together, and we can talk privately, and you can just relax.”
Her eyes filled. The elevator’s doors opened, but he didn’t move, watching her. “Did I do the wrong thing?”
She shook her head. The fact he was so considerate made her heart sore. “You’re so sweet.”
His lips twitched. “Yeah, that’s what they call me on the ice.”
She smiled, they exited the elevator, and he escorted her a short way down the hall. Then he pressed another key code and the door unlocked, and he held it open for her.
“Now where…? There.” Luc switched on lights. “There you go.”
“Wow.”
She glanced around the room. Spacious, decorated with a mix of masculine leather and more feminine touches, like the vase of roses sitting on a side table. A large photograph sat on the mantelpiece showing Dan looking deep into his wife’s eyes on their wedding day. Her heart clenched. “I can’t believe your friends are doing this for me.”
“Dan’s a good guy. Sarah’s gold, too.” He half-smiled. “She’s a singer.”
“Really? Has she sung anything I’d know?”
“If you know a group called Heartsong Collective, then yeah. She’s written songs for them.”
“I like their music.”
He shrugged. “They play her songs in my church. It’s good stuff.”
She limped to the window, and looked down as a few lights from other apartments showed. See, there was so much to learn. Like where he went to church. Why hadn’t they had that conversation yet?
“Bails, come sit down.” He pointed to the dining table where he’d placed their boxes of food. “The doc has messaged that she’s on her way, and it’ll be easier if you’ve eaten before.”
She nodded, settling at the glass dining table. “What’s for dinner?”
“A bit of everything. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so there’s everything from pasta to salad and steak and fries and cheese and fruit.”
“Where’s the salad and fruit?”
“You gotta eat more than rabbit food, okay?”
“Yes, Doc.”
“I mean it. Protein is important.”
“Fine. Give me some cheese as well.”
“And carbs.”
“I don’t do well with carbs.”
He eyed her seriously.
“But I’ll have a few mouthfuls, okay?”
He nodded, his smile poking out.
They ate, gratitude filling her as she savored the still-hot meal, and it wasn’t long before she’d finished. “I still can’t get over you doing this for me.”
“Like I said. I care about you, Bailey.”
His intense look drew a shiver inside.
Then his phone buzzed, and he answered it. The doctor, judging from Luc’s side of the conversation. He pushed his plate away. Glanced at her. “I’ll be back. The doc’s here.”
She nodded, and wondered what else this most strange night might bring.
* * *
“Thanks again, Callie.”
He shook hands with the petite doctor, Mike Vaughan’s sister, another of tonight’s surprises. They’d met at the January christening for Mike and Bree’s twins, but he hadn’t realized she worked at the emergency clinic he’d called. Last he’d heard she was supposed to be moving to Calgary, after working in Germany these past however many years. She and Bailey had had quite the conversation about European places during the examination.
“She needs to be careful not to bump it, which means you need to watch yourself with her, know what I mean?”
He didn’t have to be Einstein to know what she meant. In all senses. “She’s safe around me. How much do I owe you?”
“A ticket to next week’s show?”
“Done.” He didn’t know if it could be done but he’d make it happen somehow. “Thanks again.”
Callie nodded, yawned. “Don’t stay up too late.”
He nodded, not needing an interpreter to know what that meant, either.
He returned to sit with Bailey on the leather couch, her poor toe now bandaged with a professional’s touch. How she’d managed to dance on it at all he didn’t know. “How are you doing?”
“Better. That food was so good, and Callie was really nice. I feel so much better now I could almost fall asleep right here.”
“You can stay in the guest room, Dan said.”
“I could, but it looked like there was some baby stuff in there.” Her nose wrinkled. “I might’ve accidentally found the spare room when I was looking for the bathroom before. Is his wife pregnant?”
“Not that I know.” And not a question he was about to ask. He might pride himself on being direct but some things were so personal even he knew not to ask. A woman being pregnant was one of them. Far better to let that fall from the happy couple’s mouths. Although, now he thought about it, he could see Dan wanting to start a family soon. He’d always said that. So the fact he hadn’t said anything, if there was baby stuff but Sarah wasn’t pregnant, meant maybe things hadn’t gone the way they’d wanted.
“We should pray for them, huh?”
He studied her, fresh gratefulness for her insight filling his chest. Which only grew when she prayed aloud for God to “bless Dan and Sarah with favor, good health and a family. In Jesus’s name, Amen”.
“Amen,” he echoed gruffly. “Thank you.”
Her lips curved, and he knew a blinding desire to kiss her, that made him rear back. Point his face at the floor. Close his eyes and pray for strength. That he’d stay focused on what needed to be said and not expose his heart once and for all.
“So, um, what was it you wanted to say earlier?” she asked.
His gaze lifted. “You. You weren’t okay tonight, and I want to know why.”
“You know about my toe, and the fact I messed up my routine.”
He shook his head. “It was before that. You were worried. And I can’t help but feel like you were worried about me.”
She blushed.
Okay, so it had been about him. “Have I done something wrong? If I have, you need to say so. But I don’t do well without knowing.” He sighed. “I’m probably too straightforward at times. Believe it or not I’ve been accused of being blunt a time or two.”
“Really?”
“You’re cute when you’re sarcastic.”
“Only when I’m sarcastic?”
“Yep. The rest of the time you’re so pretty it almost makes it hard to look at you.”
See? More overshare right there.
Her eyes were so wide, they rivaled the fancy blue drinking glasses he’d found in Dan’s kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” he mumbled.
“That you think I’m pretty?”
He sighed. He could see potential for this conversation to go way wrong.
She sat up a bit, her foot slipping off the cushion, and he shifted to place it on his lap.
“What are you doing?”
He barely knew. “You need to be careful.”
She gestured between them. “We do.”
He knew what she meant. And suddenly knew the main reason for her concern. “It is me, isn’t it?”
She slowly nodded. “Look, I know it’s a completely different world to what you’re used to, but believe it or not, I’m finding it hard too. I… I haven’t danced with a partner like this for years, and it’s bringing back memories of how easy it is to get, um, caught up in things, in emotions, that happen simply because we’re in each other’s company so much. And with all the things that people are saying, it’s hard to not start wondering if maybe some of it is, uh, maybe true.”
“That I like you.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Which meant she probably didn’t like him the same way. Which wasn’t awkward or anything. All his years of directness sure hadn’t prepared him for the depths of discomfort of this kind of conversation. He exhaled, then glanced up at her. “I’m sorry I’ve made things harder for you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is it?” he pressed. “I’m serious. If you need me to fake an injury or something, and withdraw from the competition, then I will if that makes it easier for you.”
She hunched over, covering her face with her hands.
His heart knotted. “Bails? What is it? What can I do?”
She shook her head. “I know I’m tired, and everything tonight has been such a lot, but it’s this constant niceness you keep showing me that I don’t know what to do with. I don’t know how to cope with you right now.”
He was pretty sure the crack of pain inside was akin to what a heart felt like when it broke. He swallowed. Tried to speak. Produced only air. Took a swig of water and forced it past the boulders lining his throat. “I get it.” He cleared his throat, praying the wobbly rasp would stay away. “I’m sorry things are awkward. I’ll call them tomorrow and say I had an emergency and need to quit.” He managed a broken-sounding laugh. “That’ll give you time to heal anyway.”
“No!”
He peered at her. “No?”
Her fingers dropped down, sliding past her nose, then her lips, in a slow reveal. “You can’t quit. We need to dance the next round.”
For a moment, his hopes had soared, then they death-spiraled again. “Because you need your five grand.”
“No. I mean, yes, I do, but that’s not why.” She sat forward. Winced. “Oh, I’m so tired I don’t even know if this is making sense, but I want you to dance. I want us to dance. It’s just… I don’t trust myself to dance and not develop feelings for my partner again.”
“Again?” He held his breath. Surely “again” meant she felt something for him?
“Okay, I’m just going to say this and hope it makes sense. I’m sure my meds are messing with my brain and I don’t know if it will sound right, but bear with me, okay?”
He nodded, unwilling to say anything that might stem the honesty pouring from her.
“When I was dancing ballet in Europe, I had a partner called Mark, and I fell hard for him. But then when I tried to say something he shut me down, and basically called me fat.”
His chest heated. “You’re not fat. You’re perfect.” With just enough curves to steal his breath, mess with his senses and intrude into his dreams.
She was shaking her head. “I… I developed an eating disorder because of him.”
His breath hitched. He slipped his fingers between hers.
“It was really hard to break free from. It didn’t ever get so bad that I needed hospitalization, but I did need therapy. And ultimately I left the professional ballet world because it wasn’t healthy for me. I wanted to run a dance school where people came from all walks of life, who could feel good about themselves, regardless of what their body shape was like. I came back from Europe because of that, and, um, some other things, and got back into ballroom, which I’d always loved, and I’d kept in touch with Coco since we first met in our early dance days, and anyway…” She shook her head.
He squeezed her fingers, gently.
“And anyway, it shows how easy I’ve found it to depend on a guy for how I see myself. And I like you, Luc.” She peeked up, met his gaze in one scared yet sacred moment. “I feel like I could really like you. And that frightens me, because I can’t go down that road again. And you keep being so nice and kind to me, that I don’t know how to shut that off and make this just work and not make it personal.”
“Are you saying…?” He swallowed. “Are you saying that you like me more than as a friend?”
Her forehead wrinkled as she lifted her long white throat to the ceiling. “I could.”
Only could?
Her shoulders slumped. “I actually already do.”
Her eyes might be red-rimmed, her nose sure was, but she’d never looked more beautiful than now. “I feel the same way,” he confessed.
Her gaze caught his in another of those soul-tugging moments. Then she sighed. “And I shouldn’t, because I don’t want to have these emotions, especially when there’s all this speculation around us. I don’t know how to manage this.”
“I know what you mean.”
Her lips lifted in a half-smile. “So what do we do?”
He knew what he’d like to do. But he’d promised God—and Callie—that he wouldn’t. So he’d play this cool. And, actually… “We pray. Ask God for wisdom and direction. If we make it to the final, that’s another two weeks away? Three?”
She nodded. “Three.”
“So this is a job. We’re friends, and if we keep things cool, then when we reach the end, we see if we still feel this way. That way we’re not breaking any rules. We’ll just be compartmentalizing, like what I have to do on game days.”
“Are you saying the next three weeks are like game days?” Her smile flashed. “I like your confidence.”
He nodded. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t make it to the final, but miracles happened. As did pity votes. “Then when it’s over, we explore this. If you still want to.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t go thinking this is an excuse to bomb the next round.”
“Don’t you go thinking that either.”
She laughed, his favorite sound.
Then she grew serious. “So, uh, what are we going to tell people when they ask?”
“Simple. That we’re friends, and we enjoy each other’s company, and like hanging out together. And if people want to draw their own conclusions, well, we can’t help that, can we?”
“My friend Poppy said we should do something like that, get people wondering, so they vote to keep you, so they can see you in the romantic or sexy dances.”
His mouth dried. “There are, um, sexy dances?”
“Some of the Latin dances are a little sexy, yes. But nothing you need to worry about. Or your mom.”
“Look, I’m just going to put this out there, that if you need to do some sexy choreography, I’m probably going to be okay with that.”
Her lips half-curved. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So that’s not this week?”
She shook her head. “This week is the waltz. It’s quite romantic, so brace yourself for that.”
“But not wussy?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure I can make you still look strong.”
“With more cool lifts?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are there cool lifts in the sexy dances?”
“There can be. If you make it that far.”
“I’ll be making it. Don’t you worry.”
She nodded, eyeing him. “And you’re okay with telling people that we’re just friends?”
“One hundred percent. Because we’d just be telling the truth, right?”
“That there’s nothing going on.”
He dipped his chin, even as his heart beat in anticipation. There was nothing going on.
Yet.