Pointe of Pride

Chapter 17

Carly waited to speak until they were both buckled into the baking-hot car, but her patience didn’t extend much further than that.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

“No.” Nick turned the ignition with more force than was necessary and turned the AC up so that the vents blasted warm air into their faces. Carly lowered her window, keeping her eyes on him. His cheeks were flushed, and she was willing to bet it was more than just the heat of the stuffy car.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really asking. What’s going on? And if you tell me one more time that it’s ‘complicated,’ I swear to God.”

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, eyes closed and jaw clenched. He looked so tense, and so miserable, and she had an urge to reach over and stroke the stubbled skin along his jawline until it released. Kiss his pinked cheeks until their normal color returned.

She reached over and turned the fans down so he couldn’t pretend not to hear her. “You can tell me. Think of all the things you know about me. It can’t possibly be worse than that.” She let out a quiet chuckle, thinking of all the things he knew about her now, and could have sworn she saw the side of his mouth twitch.

“Let’s try this,” she started again. “How long’s the drive to your parents’ place?”

“About twenty minutes,” he said, almost under his breath.

“Okay, so talk until we get there, and then I won’t ask any more questions. Come on, you have to tell me what I’m walking into.”

He turned his head, looking across the front seat at her. “Do we have to go? Can’t you suddenly get sick or something? Or realize you forgot something really important in Sydney?”

She shook her head. “And piss Nina off, again? No, thank you.”

At the mention of his sister, he pressed the back of his head into the headrest and sighed at the ceiling. “For Nina.”

“For Nina,” Carly agreed. She’d watched as a series of emotions had washed over the other woman’s face, so like Nick’s in its shape and coloring. Surprise, then disappointment, frustration, hurt, and anger, all expressions she recognized after a week in Nick’s company. Except usually she was the one causing them. And she’d watched as Nick told Nina the truth about Delphine, taking a breath to steel himself first, but then delivering the information without any fuss. He might still be hiding the truth from his best friend, but at least he’d told his sister.

Nick lifted his head and turned on his blinker, then pulled out of their parking spot. He was silent for a few minutes, and she thought he might simply ignore their agreement, but then he turned the car onto the highway and sighed.

“You asked me earlier if my parents were happy to let me go away for school,” he started, and she swiveled in her seat so she could look at him as he spoke. “They didn’t mind that part, but when it was time to graduate and audition for jobs overseas, they balked. They were willing to let me go as far as Sydney, but Europe or the States was too much for them. I tried to make them understand that it was the only way to find a full-time gig, but they wouldn’t listen. They wanted me to stay here and try to find dance work closer to home.”

“But you ended up in Europe.”

Nick’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “I auditioned behind their backs. Lied to the school, told them my parents were fine with me auditioning. And when I got the offer from Munich, I accepted it without telling Mum and Dad. When I told them I’d signed the contract and the company had already sent me a plane ticket, they were furious. My dad was a primary school principal, and so it takes a lot for him to lose his temper, but when he does … it can be downright scary.” Carly watched him talk, surprised with every emerging detail that the uptight, rule-abiding Nick she knew had ever done something so rebellious.

“But there wasn’t much they could do,” he went on, sounding grim but a little proud. “I was eighteen; they couldn’t stop me from going. So, I left. Mum bought me a calling card and we talked on the phone every weekend, even though I barely got more than a few words a week out of Dad that first year. And I always told them I was fine. I had to be fine, even when … even when I wasn’t fine. Because I’d been so insistent about leaving.”

Because he’d broken their hearts when he left, Carly thought. She thought about how proud Nick was, how stubborn. She understood a little, now, why he was like this. Why he didn’t want his best friend to know his girlfriend had dumped him. And why he didn’t want to call his parents and tell them he was home. She had a sudden urge to fake sick so he could keep driving, take them all the way back to Sydney where he wouldn’t have to look all this ugly history in the face. But then she remembered the delight on Nina’s face when he agreed to dinner. Nina seemed just as stubborn as he was, but at least they were on speaking terms. If Nina was there, and she was there, together they could get Nick through one meal.

“So, that was it? You haven’t talked since?”

Nick glanced at her, the warm evening light throwing shadows across his face, making his cheekbones appear even sharper than usual.

“No, things got a little better. They came to Munich after I’d been there for a few years, and I’ve come home once or twice. I was here when Nina graduated from uni. It wasn’t as bad as it was when I left, but it was … tense.”

Carly stole a look at the clock on the dashboard. She didn’t know how long they’d been driving, but she suspected they didn’t have much farther to go. A moment later, Nick confirmed her suspicions, turning off the highway and driving slowly along a tree-lined street that took them down the ridge.

“But then … Nina mentioned last time?”

Nick heaved a deep sigh and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It was five or six years ago. It was really cold for September that year, and I had to borrow a beanie from Dad. The night before I left, I went to give it back to him, and he said, no, no, hang on to it for next time. They always talk about when I come back, when I come back. Like they’re just waiting for me to come home with my tail between my legs. Admit that I was wrong when I was eighteen and ambitious and scared shitless but willing to give it a go, you know? It was like that the whole trip, even at Nina’s graduation ceremony. Mum said something about how when I come back I could go to uni here and get a degree, too.” He flicked the turn signal hard and they continued down the hill, past small brick houses with terra-cotta roofs, early evening sunlight glinting off their front windows.

“So Dad said, keep the beanie for when you come back, and I just lost it. I told him that I didn’t know when I’d be back again, and maybe I wouldn’t ever come back.”

Carly exhaled loudly.

“Yeah. I meant that I didn’t know if I’d ever move back for good, not that I’d never come see them again. And I expected him to lose his temper like he did when I was a kid, but instead he just looked … so hurt. Like I’d said the worst thing he could think of, but he thought about it all the time. I felt shitty, but I was so mad. It always feels like they’re just waiting for me to fail.”

Carly stared. She knew that feeling. And she liked to think she’d pissed her parents off more than a few times, but Nick had her beat here. “You were right, that is complicated.”

“Yeah, it is. So, that’s what you’re walking into. Because my darling sister, who stayed here and only ever moved two towns down the mountain, and went out and got a job they actually understand, insisted that we come to dinner. And because I love her, and because she’s a world champion guilt-tripper, here we are.”

He pulled the car over and threw it into park. They’d stopped in front of a squat brick house, painted pale green with a terra-cotta roof and a white front door. The front garden was neat and ordered, and the hedges separating the property from the street looked freshly trimmed.

“This is home?”

“This is where my parents live.”

“Okay, this is where your parents live. And they are?”

“Rod and Narelle. He was a principal, she still works part-time as a bookkeeper for local businesses.”

Carly nodded, tucking the names away. There was a pause, and she watched as Nick stared at the house. “And we are?”

Nick looked at her, his face a mixture of gratitude and dread, and she couldn’t help but reach across the front seat and give his hand a brief, encouraging squeeze. “We’re best man and maid of honor. Business partners. Friends. Maybe lie if they ask how we met.”

Carly pulled her hand away. She shouldn’t feel let down by his answer. That was what they were, after all. Best man and maid of honor. Uptight asshole and ballet brat. Who had made each other come repeatedly this morning, who had kissed at a beautiful lookout barely an hour ago. But he was right. They were business partners who were helping each other out. Tonight, helping him out meant sitting next to him while he faced his parents and maybe lying about how they met. She could do that.

“Understood. Let’s go,” she said, undoing her seatbelt and turning to open the door. “Oh, but Nick?” she turned back and gave him a sly grin. “If you need me to run anyone over with a luggage cart, you just say the word.”

In the five years since his last visit, the outside of the house had barely changed. The garden was still neat as a pin, the brass knocker on the front door still gleamed in the fading sunlight. And standing on the welcome mat still made his heart race. He’d been grateful to see Nina’s car already parked outside; at least he wouldn’t have to face his parents alone.

Beside him, Carly reached forward and lifted the knocker.

“It’ll be okay. And if it’s not, I can fake sick,” she said over her shoulder. She put a hand over her stomach and faked a convincing gag, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly. Not alone, even if Nina wasn’t there.

Carly tapped the door three times, and it opened almost immediately. There stood his mother, an apron tied around her waist, her grey-streaked hair clipped up in a familiar twist. Her face was more lined in person than it looked on their rare FaceTime calls, especially when she smiled, which she did as she took the two of them in. A strained smile, but a smile nonetheless. Nick’s throat was dry and tight, and he attempted to clear it before he spoke.

“Hi, Mum.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, stepping forward and hugging him snugly around his waist. A little taken aback, he stood frozen in her arms, then wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and squeezed gently. She sniffed quietly, stepped back and hastily wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and ushered them inside.

“Welcome home,” she said, sounding pleased. “And you must be Carly.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jacobs, nice to meet you. And thanks for having me,” Carly said, flashing a wide and toothy smile as she followed Nick into the front hallway. They’d replaced the carpeting since he was here last; it had been beige for as long as he could remember, and now it was a pleasant powder blue.

“How did you know her name?” Nick asked, glancing up from the carpet to take in the familiar art on the walls: a photo of his parents on their wedding day, a photo of him and Nina after an end-of-year ballet concert, and that long printed poem he’d liked so much as a kid. His chest constricted at the sight, at once alien and achingly familiar.

“Nina,” his mum shrugged. Of course. Nina kept him updated on their lives, and she served as a go-between in the other direction, too. For the first time, it occurred to him that shuttling bare-bones information between people who barely spoke must have been a strain on his sister. If it weren’t for her, he’d know almost nothing about his parents’ lives, and they’d know very little about his.

His mum put her hands in the pocket of her apron and looked him up and down.

“You’ve filled out a bit,” she said, sounding pleased. “Retirement suits you.”

Nick felt irritation prick at his gut. Of course she thought that. They’d been waiting for him to retire ever since his career began. And she had no idea how little retirement suited him, how he’d been floundering ever since he stopped dancing. He pushed the bitter thoughts aside and tried to smile back.

“It’s a new challenge,” he said noncommittally. “What’s for dinner?”

“Roast chook, lots of veggies. The usual.”

Nick smiled despite himself as he and Carly followed her down the hall. No one roasted a chicken like his mother. For years in Paris he’d tried and failed to replicate it. He’d brined, he’d spatchcocked, he’d bought freshly harvested rosemary from the shamelessly flirtatious old woman who ran the herb stall at his local street market, but he’d never been able to get it right. He breathed deeply and let the scent of the bird in the oven fill his chest as they arrived in the kitchen.

They found his father reading the newspaper as Nina set the table around him. Nick felt his smile drop as Rod glanced up from the paper and looked him up and down.

“Nicholas. I thought you were never coming back.” Nick heard Nina’s disappointed sigh, and just managed not to let out one of his own. Why had he let her guilt him into this? Why hadn’t he insisted on getting in the car and driving back to Sydney, back to safety?

“Hi, Dad,” he managed. There was no point in returning fire so early. He’d get through the evening by making pleasant conversation with his mother, and then he and Carly would get the hell out of here. When he didn’t say anything more, his father simply looked at him across the table. Nick looked back, noting the toll the last few years had taken on Rod’s solid, square face. His beard was more salt than pepper now, and his neat dark brown hair had thinned noticeably. But even though he was retired, he still looked every bit the school principal, leveling a cool and assessing gaze at Nick as though he was wondering how many lunchtime detentions to give him. After a silent moment, Rod lowered his eyes back to his paper and turned the page. Well, Nick hadn’t expected a warm reception for himself, so he had no business feeling disappointed. But his dad could at least acknowledge Carly.

He was about to introduce her himself when she spoke, her grin back in place, and her voice sweeter than he’d ever heard it.

“Hello, Mr. Jacobs, I’m Carly Montgomery. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She stepped forwards and thrust her hand into his father’s peripheral vision.

Rod looked up at her in surprise, unable to ignore her hand when it was right in front of his face. He shook it briefly, apparently too taken aback to do otherwise.

“Hello, Ms. Mont—Er,” he started.

“Montgomery,” she supplied, her voice syrupy sharp. “I’m Heather and Marcus’s maid of honour and Nick’s business partner.” Rod frowned up at her, then glanced over at Nick, who was suppressing a grateful smile. Then he dropped her hand and went back to what looked like the real estate section.

Across the table, Nina had paused in the middle of setting out cutlery to watch the interaction, and she looked up at Nick with a smirk. Her eyes widened as if to say, She’s a live one, and he tipped his head ever so slightly to the side in reply. Oh, you have no idea.

Carly watched as his father turned the page again, her smile stretching so wide it looked like it hurt, and a thrill of mingled delight and dread shot through Nick. This could go very wrong, very easily. He of all people knew how quickly Carly Montgomery could explode when someone disrespected her. But when she turned to face Nick, her smile shrank to something genuine and reassuring. She handed him her bag and joined his mum in the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything, Mrs. Jacobs? I’m not much of a cook, but I can chop with the best of them.”

A few moments later, his mum had handed her a knife and a salad bowl and set her to work chopping vegetables. Nina went back to setting the table, watching Rod pointedly as she worked. When he didn’t look up from his paper, she rolled her eyes and picked up the bottle of wine in the centre of the table.

“Wine?” she asked Nick.

“Please,” he muttered, reaching over and taking the bottle from her. “But what are you going to drink?”

She giggled, and his heart lifted at the sound. In the kitchen, Carly glanced over her shoulder and caught his eye. She held his gaze and flicked her eyebrows up, checking on him, and he raised the bottle of wine in her direction. In response, she lifted the knife, looking beautiful and threatening and like a woman who would cheerfully slide a blade between someone’s ribs, smiling the whole time. He’d seen Carly detonate before, but tonight he had a feeling he’d get to watch her kill with kindness.

For the next ten minutes, he and Nina sat on the couch, drinking their wine and chatting about her life. Her work, her friends, the true crime podcast she’d been listening to on her commute into the city. His dad sat at the table and ignored them, and barely looked up when Carly deposited the salad bowl on the table in front of him with that same rictus grin on her face.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so quietly that Nick barely heard him.

“Oh, you’re so very welcome, Mr. Jacobs,” she said, in a sticky-sweet voice that said I definitely didn’t poison this salad. As she straightened up, she caught Nick’s eye and winked, and he squashed another grateful smile. Carly Montgomery was A Lot, but tonight, it was just the right amount. He looked back at Nina, who had been in the middle of telling him about how the serial killer in the podcast was eventually caught, and found her watching him curiously.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, almost under her breath, but a second later the over timer dinged and his mum pulled the chicken out of the oven. Saved by the chook, Nick thought as she heaved it onto a plate and carried it to the table. Nick stood, but not before Nina rolled her eyes again in a knowing way that told him he wasn’t off the hook at all. Carly trailed behind his mum, carrying the carving fork and another large knife, and they all took their seats as his mum began to carve the bird and his father folded up the newspaper and tossed it into the basket next to the sideboard.

“That smells amazing, Mum,” Nick said, inhaling deeply again. And it really did. The spices and the crisp, browned skin, it smelled perfect. It smelled like—fuck, his chest was tight—it smelled like home. He swallowed hard and busied himself serving Carly.

“It really does smell amazing, Mrs. Jacobs,” Carly agreed, as a drumstick landed on her plate. “I haven’t had a homemade roast chicken in years.”

“You’re too kind,” his mum said, waving the compliment away as she served herself salad. “And these vegetables are very well chopped.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t screw up the one thing I know how to do in the kitchen. Though there was a fifty-fifty chance I was going to lose a finger and bleed all over the counter.”

Nina laughed, and Nick felt his shoulders relax a little even as his father silently served himself and began eating.

“Fortunately, I know first aid,” Nina said. “And better a finger than a toe when you’re a dancer. You are a dancer, I assume?”

“Sure am. So I need all ten toes for now. But once I retire I can take up knife juggling, just like I’ve always wanted.”

Nina and Narelle both chuckled. Nothing from his father, as Nick had expected.

“Where in America do you dance, Carly?” his mum asked, after a quick, tense glance at Rod. At least she was trying.

“New York Ballet. I’ve been there my whole career, so, thirteen years now. And I was at the school before that.”

“Wow, that’s a top-notch company, isn’t it? Very impressive,” his mum nodded. “And do you like living in New York?”

“I’ve never lived anywhere else,” Carly shrugged. “I don’t think I ever want to.”

“So you grew up in New York,” his father said suddenly. It was a statement, not a question. All four other sets of eyes at the table swung towards him as he set his cutlery down and looked Carly full in the face for the first time. Nick’s shoulders tightened again at the tone of his father’s voice, firm and ready for a fight.

“Yes, born and raised,” Carly said, her pride audible even through the tight smile she was reserving just for him.

“And your parents, they still live there? Nearby?”

“Rod,” his mother hissed out of the corner of her mouth, but he ignored her.

“They do. On the same subway line, in fact.”

“And how do you think they would feel if you packed up one day and moved to the other side of the world without telling them?”

“Dad, come on,” Nina said. When he didn’t respond, keeping his eyes fixed on Carly, Nina shook her head and took a large swig of wine.

Carly glanced at Nick, who had already opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t have to answer the question. But she placed her hand on his, just like she’d done in the car earlier.

“My parents want me to be happy and successful, Mr. Jacobs.” Nick was impressed by how level her voice was, even though she must be furious by now. “They’re not interested in holding me back. And if I had to go to the other side of the world to have the career I wanted to have, they’d want to support me.”

Financially, at least. Nick knew full well that her parents barely understood her decision to move to the other end of Manhattan, but he appreciated her willingness to stray from the absolute truth for him.

His father looked unmoved, but he didn’t reply immediately, and Nina jumped into the silence.

“Nick, why don’t you tell us about—”

“And how do you think they would feel if you stayed away for years, Ms. Montgomery,” his dad interrupted, in full principal mode now, “and threatened to never come home again?”

“Rod, that’s enough,” his mum said, louder this time. She shot a look of mingled apology and exasperation at Nick. “You know that’s not what Nicholas meant. You were both angry, like you are now, and you said things you shouldn’t have said.” Nick wanted to agree with her, though part of him never wanted to come home again if this was what it was going to be like. But he said nothing, and she kept talking.

“But for heaven’s sake, it was years ago, and Nicholas has come home, and now that he’s retired, maybe he’ll stay a while. Or forever,” she added hopefully. “You can be a photographer anywhere, after all.”

Nick’s mind went numb with rage, and for a moment all he could do was stare at his mother. He blinked, trying to muster up a response, but Carly had found one first. When she spoke, her voice hot and furious, every ounce of sugar and syrup evaporated.

“Your son went out into the world when he was basically still a child and managed to find a job in one of the best companies in one of the most competitive industries in the world. He held on to that job and was so good at it that he was promoted within just a few years, then got another job at the oldest and most respected ballet company on the whole planet. And then he retired and carved out an entirely new career in another extremely competitive industry, where he’s absolutely killing it, and—”

“Carly, it’s okay, just—” Nick started, his cheeks warm from a miserable cocktail of gratitude and shame. He appreciated that she was defending him, but the thought of her defending a lie—a lie he’d let her believe—made his skin crawl. He shook his head, trying to get her to stop, but he should have known that once she started, there was no stopping her. She pushed her chair back and stood, back rigid and knees locked.

“No, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all! They should be proud of you! You worked so hard for this, you sacrificed so much, and maybe you’ve done things differently from how they wanted you to do it, but you’re fucking doing it, Nick, and you’re good at it. And they should respect that!” She glared at his father, who was staring up at her with his fork suspended a few centimetres above his plate. Nick glanced at his mother, whose eyes were glassy. Next to her, Nina was clutching her wine glass and watching Carly with a mix of alarm and awe.

Carly turned to his Dad, face alight with righteous fury. “Your son is talented. Really, really talented. I mean, do you know how good you have to be to be a ballet photographer in France? The country that invented ballet and photography? Most parents would kill for a kid like this, someone who’s serious and smart and successful at whatever they decide to do—”

“Carly, let it go,” Nick said, louder this time. “You don’t have to—Let’s just go.” He got to his feet, heart racing with adrenaline but his limbs heavy.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Carly agreed, looking down at him, eyes blazing. Her cheeks were pink under her freckles, and her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths. She grabbed her bag from the back of her chair and tossed it over her shoulder, then threw one last, disgusted look at his father. “I feel sick.”

She turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen, and Nick followed, a little dazed, as she stalked down the hall to the front door. He’d never been one for storming out, but maybe Carly was onto something. This felt damn good. She wrenched open the front door, and he was about to follow her through it when Nina came dashing down the hallway calling his name.

“Go, I’ll meet you in the car,” he told Carly. She looked for a moment like she was going to ignore him, but then she turned and marched down the front steps and threw herself into the front seat.

“I’m sorry about them,” Nina said quietly, once Carly was out of earshot. She looked almost as miserable as he felt. “And about him, especially. I don’t know what his problem is. I’ve tried to talk to him about it. I warned him before you came, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“It’s okay, Neens. You can’t fix this. I love that you tried, but it’s not your job, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes watering. “We really miss you. I really miss you.”

Nick swallowed. “I miss you, too. Come here.”

He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. When she pulled away, he saw tear tracks streaking down her cheeks.

“Come back soon?”

Nick opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t find any words. How could he promise that? When he didn’t know where his life was going, and when this was what coming home felt like?

“I—I’ll try.” Even as he said it, the promise felt like a lie, but she looked reassured by it, and her hopeful little nod made his heart splinter. He gave her another quick hug, inhaled the scent of chicken one last time, and left the house.

He found Carly in the front seat, still radiating anger.

“Let’s go back to Sydney,” she said, once he was buckled in.

“I’ve got a better idea.” He didn’t want to be driving right now. “Let’s go find a hotel and get very, very drunk.”