Chapter Twenty-Six
DANIEL HAD parked outside of the studio just to be near something he loved. His phone rang with an unknown number. Fucking telemarketers. He waited for the call to run its course. Then it rang again. Only Aaron that time.
There was that feeling. The one that made him slump over the steering wheel with shoulders rounded and knuckles clenched white. The one that insisted he was making the right choice by leaving. He hadn’t cried a single tear since he left the ring behind. That had to mean something. If it wasn’t the right choice, then he would’ve been a blubbering mess. His eyes were exhausted, but they were dry.
He pressed his lips together as hard as it took for him to keep from answering as Aaron’s beautiful picture illuminated his screen. “I can’t . I can’t hear your voice, I can’t beg you to stay, I can’t talk to you knowing he’s there too. I’m so sorry.” He swung the car door open, and it almost felt symbolic when he slammed it shut. “But it’s over.”
Most of the studio lights had been cut for the night, except for a few, and surprisingly the front door was still unlocked. He tugged it open only to startle Madeline from her graceful crescent moon shape as she held the barre, one leg extended to the side.
She spun around and pink bloomed across her cheeks. She’d been dancing in the dark alone.
“Lovely,” he said, offering a tiny wave. “As always. So lovely. Don’t let me stop you.”
“I don’t know why,” she said, crossing her ankles, a sweet smile splitting her face, “but I had a feeling I might see you here.”
“Yeah?” He sighed. “Well, it is home.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Join me?”
Dancing. Putting heart into motion. Nothing compared. Nothing nourished him or moved him or kept his Jell-O mold of a nervous system quelled. The old hardwoods beneath his feet didn’t mind if he showed up full of regret, unsure of himself, and dressed in another guy’s clothes from the night before. Just how it didn’t care if he showed up battered and heartbroken, yet somehow alive on the other side. It only cared that he showed up.
Their movements weren’t coordinated or matching, but they flowed. No music. Just harmony. She smiled and caught his gaze and they both bowed in an homage to the old hardwoods. In an homage to the principles themselves. A goodbye to a special studio that had held space for them over so many remarkable days. So many dances.
He gazed around the walls. “Are you going to miss this place?”
“With every bone of my body.”
“Same.” He nodded, his eyes watering a touch. “I’m so sorr—” He cleared his throat when it cracked. “Sorry I couldn’t make it work.”
“No.” She held her hand to his cheek, ever the gentlest of touches. “No apologies. Another door will open. Another page will turn. Dancing is your true love, and the thing about true love? It evolves, but it never dies. It’ll find a way to live through you.”
He pressed his palm over hers, grinning as he let his eyes soften shut for the briefest of moments. “How so very dazzling.”
Then she said, “There’s something different about you.”
He blinked his eyes open to find her brows pinched in. “There is? Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze swept over his face. “But it’s beautiful. Like a young man who trusts himself.”
She had no idea how deeply it hit, and it took everything he had to simply clasp his hands in gratitude instead of pulling her into him and demanding she stay. She nodded at the walls as she floated toward the front door. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone with it. Take care of yourself, Daniel.”
Take care of himself.
He smoothed his hand over the barre and drank it in. Dance studios smelled like sequence. And sequence smelled like thrill. Like bright lights and the high of the performance. He arced an arm toward the ceiling and pulled his gentle grip over the barre until it ran out.
His phone rang again with the same number from earlier as he gingerly sat on a stool behind the counter. He tilted his head down at it for a minute.
“Hello?” His voice sounded bizarre, cutting through the chilly darkness .
“Hi, I’m looking for a Mr. Daniel Greene.”
He wet his lips. “Speaking.”
“Hi, Mr. Greene, this is Todd with Capital Equity. I’m contacting you about your recent loan application. Is this a good time?”
Even though he’d likely crumble at more bad news, he said, “As good as any.”
“Great. Sorry it’s so late, but I wanted to catch you before the weekend.”
So he could ruin it. Everyone wanted to ruin his weekend.
“Congratulations, sir. Your application has been approved. Is there a good time for you to drop by next week and fill out some paperwork?”
Daniel tried to stand from the stool in a hurry, and like a baby bird flying for the first time, plummeted straight to the ground.
WHEN THE elevator dinged open, Aaron stumbled into a run and sped out the front door of his apartment building. He’d called Olivia twice in the past ten minutes and he’d called Daniel countless times. There weren’t that many places he could be. He could be at Olivia’s or the studio. He could be at his mom’s. He was probably at his mom’s, in which case, he’d need his car.
Aaron hung a hard left at the street corner and sprinted toward the parking garage, when a ring from his phone skidded him to a halt.
The glimmer of hope that sparkled was way too zealous, because of course it wasn’t Daniel. But it was the next best thing. He answered in a tizzy, out of breath, “Olivia.”
“Hi,” she said over wildly loud background music. “Is there a reason why y’all are blowin’ my damn phone up?”
“Do you know where Daniel is?”
“Uh, you know I have a life outside of Daniel, right?”
“Sure, sure, sure.” He couldn’t picture such a thing. “Do you know where he is?”
Clanging sounded. “What?”
“Daniel,” he said louder. “Do you know where he is?”
“I can’t hear you.”
“Dan—! Can you get somewhere quieter?”
“Ugh, hold on.” A full minute later, a door creaked, and it was suddenly much calmer on the other end. “Okay. What now?”
“Where are you? ”
“Your brother’s house.”
He flicked his gaze upward as she snickered.
“Should I tell him to keep it down?” More snickering. “He’s just struggling to contain himself. Must be all the rhapsody.”
“Hilarious.”
“Oh, I’m just kidding, silly willy,” she said, and he could almost see the hand swat as she chuckled at herself. “You silly willy man. I’m at a rave.”
“What?” He squinted. “What year is it? Who goes—? Never mind. Do you know where Daniel is?”
“At the studio. You’re not with him? Thought you’d be helping him celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” His heart lurched a bit. “What’s he celebrating?”
“The loan for the studio, silly. You silly willy.”
Aaron opened his mouth and started to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, a soft smile lifted his lips. “He got the loan?” Well, congratulations, kid.
“Yeah, how do you not know that? And why aren’t you with him? I couldn’t really hear him when he was talking about you. I figured you were there.”
“I’m about to be there.” He nodded at a lamppost. “I’m not going to let him go. I can’t. I’d rather be broke.”
She didn’t respond for a long time. Then she finally said, “Okay. You guys really are a couple of weirdos. You’re lucky you’re both so hot—”
He was already ending the call. Already sprinting down the street.
Ten minutes later, he staggered to a stop outside of the studio. He’d only ever picked Daniel up from the sidewalk. He’d never been inside. It was mostly dark in there as he hooded his hands around his eyes and peered in.
He checked the handle, and to his shock, the door was open. A ding sounded as he pulled it open, and Daniel’s voice called from somewhere in the back, “Madeline? That you? Hold on, I’ll be right there.”
Aaron’s heart rate spiked as he stepped inside. It was an old building with partially exposed brick that’d been painted black and white. It had that feel some old buildings had. Like it’d been designed with care and constructed with love. It was so Daniel in that way.
The lights flicked on, and Daniel came ambling from the back. Not chipper. But not sullen either. He halted when he laid eyes on Aaron, his hint of a smile instantly dying .
They stood in a harsh stare-off that Aaron struggled to soften all on his own. He wasn’t typically the soft one. All he could do was try. “Hi.”
Daniel’s face twitched, but he didn’t respond.
“So, this is the studio, huh?” He squatted down to angle his head at the hardwoods. “Maple? Nice.”
Daniel didn’t speak.
“Original molding too. You need a mirror right there—make it look bigger—and a print on that overhang. Something with color to contrast that wall. Ballet slippers? Or is that too on-the-nose?”
Daniel blinked. “What are you doing here, Aaron?”
“What am I doing here?” he repeated, sucking his lip. “I came here to congratulate you on the studio. I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”
Daniel’s gaze pinged around the walls, but he remained quiet. Quiet and icy.
“And I’m here to say that I never should’ve considered going on that trip.” He exhaled. “I knew you weren’t going to be okay with it, and I shouldn’t have put you through that. I’m sorry.”
There was something so cold about Daniel as he crossed his arms and rubbed his nose, looking anywhere but at Aaron.
“I told Marco I didn’t want to see him anymore.” He stepped a little closer. “I’ll tell all my clients I don’t want to see them. You never have to worry about—”
“I took it off.”
Aaron froze.
“I took the ring off.”
He could suddenly feel the weight of Daniel’s ring in his pocket.
“You said that if I took it off, you would let me walk away. You wouldn’t fight it. That’s what you said.”
“I know. I know what I said, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I quit. I’m quitting.”
Daniel chuckled, sounding a bit delirious. “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”
“No, you can!” Aaron rushed to him. “You have every right. You’re my fiancé. You can ask anything of me—”
“No, I can’t. I never should’ve asked you to do that for me. That doesn’t work. ”
“Listen to me, baby.” He started to reach for Daniel’s shoulders but stopped himself. “I want to quit. Not for you—okay, that’s a lie. It’s totally for you, but it’s for me too. I don’t want to do it anymore. I haven’t wanted to do it for a long time. I think I was just scared.”
Daniel squinted. “Scared of what?”
“Scared of failing.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Or maybe of succeeding, I don’t know. Of everything. Of change, of life, of never having enough. Of never being enough.”
Daniel sniffed, his melted caramel eyes all enormous and full of pain. It was almost like his frigid walls were trying to fracture, but he waved his arms around and patched them up. “No. Listen. You’re emotional right now. If you quit for me, you’ll resent me someday.”
“No, I won’t. I swear, I swear, I swear, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.” Daniel squeezed his eyes shut as he wiped a palm across the forehead. “I know it doesn’t seem like it this second, but you will. That’s how it works.”
“Kid, if I don’t fight for you, I’ll resent myself.”
Daniel startled.
“If I won’t fight for you,” Aaron whispered, “then I never deserved you.”
“Aaron.”
“I have your ring, baby.” He dug into his pocket in a hurry and scooped the ring out. “I have it right here. This is your ring.”
Daniel’s gazed journeyed down to the ring.
“You know when I bought this ring for you, I had to write down the inscription for the jeweler because I couldn’t say it. I tried, and I couldn’t do it. And even that was a challenge.” His chuckle was a little darker than intended. “I’m sure they thought I was broken. I might be, but I always meant it. From the beginning, I meant it.”
Daniel blinked up at him. “Meant what?”
Aaron’s heart started to patter a bit faster. “The inscription. On your ring.”
It seemed like Daniel was lost in time for a bit; then revelation softened his features. “I forgot about that.”
“Have you never read it?” Aaron’s eyes widened. “You never saw the inscription?”
“You said not to take it off. I never took it off. ”
Aaron bit the inside of his cheek as he peered down at the ring in his fingers. A lump had lodged in his airway, or maybe it was bile on its way up. Either way, it was bitter, and he might choke if he continued.
He had to continue.
“So what if I read it to you?” he asked, because stalling for time was more manageable than saying it, and his hands had started to shake. “Give me just a second.” He swallowed the lump, hard like chalk and just as dry. “Here—here we go. It—it says—”
It was more than muscular and more than his nerves. It was like his bones trembled.
“It says—” It wasn’t a memory that bubbled up so much as a feeling, although the images that flashed spun in cryptic revolutions like an old-timey movie. Mostly of his dad’s shirt where it stretched when he tripped trying to grab it, his hands and knees skidding on gravel.
“It says—” It said all kinds of things. It said, I’m sorry and What did I do wrong? It said Please don’t leave.
“It says—” It said awful things. Things like Be more. Be more and more and more until someday, he’d have so much that his dad would be sorry he left.
“I—” It said things that weren’t true. Things that weren’t real. Things like He’ll hate you. He’ll leave you. He’d have so much one day that no one would ever leave him again.
He fell to his knees because standing was too much, just like the saliva that flooded his mouth was too watery, but he swallowed. He swallowed that and the lump and the cold blue eyes that matched his own and all of it. None of it was real. What was real was right here, and he wouldn’t choke. He didn’t need to be more for Daniel to stay. What was real was right here.
When he found his words again for the first time in twelve years, he found them patiently waiting for this moment. This second. When no other words would do.
“I love you.”