Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
For fuck’s sake, I was in perfect alignment.
“He likes Allie,” Anne said gently. “Always has.”
“He liked Lina.” Her hand clenched the brush. “Allie is no prima.”
Awesome. Neither was Lina, and considering that Lina had driven into New York and begged him to reconsider after the first year he hadn’t offered her a contract, I would have argued that I had higher standing, if it would do me any good with Mom. But now I was simply the daughter who’d fallen in front of all New York City.
I made the mistake of sighing.
“Third!” Mom snapped.
I angled my feet and expectations accordingly. I could be the youngest principal dancer in the history of the Company, have dance roles that were created for me, earn critical acclaim, but until I had that scarce, extraordinary title bestowed upon me, none of it mattered in her eyes.
“Sloppy lines. Sloppy feet.” She moved her own into position. “Third.”
I readjusted my stance even though it was perfect. “Third.”
Her stare prickled the hair on the back of my neck before she turned back to the painting.
“Mom, we know you have to get to class soon.” Anne took the framed picture out of her bag and showed it to Mom. “We just wanted to ask you about this picture.”
Mom stared at the picture. “Lina.” A smile ghosted her face.
“Did you know she was pregnant?” Anne asked.
Mom froze and so did my heartbeat. She blinked once, then pivoted toward the painting, stepping out of position. She’d shut us out. We weren’t going to get anywhere with her.
“In this picture of you two, Lina is seven months pregnant. Did you know?” Anne tried again.
“Mom, talk to us,” I begged quietly.
“Fourth!”
I moved accordingly.
Anne took a deep breath. “Did Lina have a baby?”
Mom shook her head, and the brush slipped, pink streaking across what had been a red curtain on the stage. “Now it’s ruined.” She threw the brush into the water glass. “Get out. I have class.”
My heart thundered in my ears. She fucking knew. “Lina had a baby.” I stepped out of position. “Her name is Juniper.”
“Do. Not. Ask. Again.” Mom bit out the words.
“We have to! Did you help give the baby up?” Anne pushed forward. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Who is her father?” I added, quickly falling silent as the door opened behind us.
“Hey, girls,” Rachel said from the doorway. “Sophie, Elle Gibbons is hoping you’d have a few minutes to look at her Aurora variation before class.”
“No.” Mom picked up her paintbrush and dipped it in red, then started to cover the pink mistake. “Fifth.”
Defeated, I moved my feet into position, and Anne stuffed the picture into her purse. We both trusted Rachel, but this secret was bigger than us.
“Elle’s father is a large donor,” Rachel reminded Mom. “It will only take a minute.”
“We’re not done discussing this,” Anne said quietly to Mom.
“We are,” Mom countered. “Tendu.”
I complied, shoes and all. “We have to know,” I whispered.
“Relevé!” she demanded, grabbing hold of the water cup in one hand and dunking the brush with the other to rinse it.
“I can’t.” I shook my head. Going up on the balls of my feet wasn’t an option yet.
“Maybe you could give us a second?” Anne asked, walking past me toward Rachel.
“It will throw off the whole schedule,” Rachel replied apologetically.
“Relevé!” Mom glared my direction.
“I can’t, Mom. My ankle isn’t ready.” I relaxed my posture.
She threw the cup at me, water and all. The plastic hit the hardwood a couple feet away with a thwack, and water splashed up, splattering the bottom of my legs. I waited for the embarrassment to hit, the sorrow that I’d disappointed her yet again, but there was nothing.
She was the water, and I was now a sieve. Being numb had some perks.
“Mom!” Anne shouted.
“Oh, Allie.” Rachel raced past me into the bathroom, then came out and handed me a fluffy pink towel.
“Thank you.” I wiped down my legs, mourning the loss of my pink Vans, which were now splattered with paint and water.
“I’m so very sorry.” Rachel glanced over her shoulder at Mom. “Sophie, how could you?”
Straightening my posture, I looked right at my mother. “Easily. Though not usually in public.”
Rachel gasped, and Mom’s hands curled.
Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.
“It should—” Mom’s face blotched red, and she snapped her mouth shut as her gaze flickered to the photo of Lina at my left.
“Go ahead and say it.” I lifted my chin. “It wouldn’t be the first time, and it might make you feel better.” At least one of us would.
“Mom,” Anne warned.
“Should. Have.” She jabbed her finger my direction, biting out every syllable. “Been. You.”
“Mom!” Anne shouted. “Take that back!”
“Yeah.” I blew out a slow breath as the words crushed my heart in a sharp-nailed fist, cutting into the areas I could have sworn were too thick with scar tissue to feel, but even numbness had its limit, and this pain was acute. Raw. Devastating. “Most days I wish it had been,” I answered truthfully, anger getting the best of me. She knew about Juniper and hadn’t told us. Wouldn’t tell us.