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)
“Quinn Hawkins opened a studio?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Yeah, about a year ago.” She waved her fork. “She’s out by Cedarville. Why? When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Not since Eva’s last year at the Classic.” She’d been eighteen, if I remembered correctly. “So, seven years ago? Pretty sure she came in second.”
Anne nodded. “I think I heard she tore her ACL or something. Whatever it was ended her career pretty quickly.”
“That’s sad,” I muttered.
“It always is,” Kenna agreed. “But it’s not you.”
We finished up lunch, and then Kenna ordered me to the barre.
Barefoot, I took what had always been my place, the third mirror panel, and prepared for pain.
She worked me with the drive of an instructor, as her mother had been, and the eye of a doctor, as Anne watched nervously, jotting down notes of exercises Kenna wanted me to focus on in the next few weeks.
“I can’t.” I shook my head after her latest command. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, and every muscle in my body screamed.
“You can,” she corrected me. “You just don’t want to, which I think is half the problem here.” She drummed her fingers on the barre.
“That’s not true,” I retorted, snapping slightly.
“Prove it.” She gestured to my feet.
Fear held me in its grasp and squeezed.
“Come on. You’ve been here before. You know what it feels like.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And no one in this room gives a shit if it’s not perfect. Sophie’s not here. If you don’t want this, no one’s going to blame you. You want to retire early? Escape the tyranny of the Company? I will send an email that it’s a career-ending injury. I’ll have your back. But if there’s a chance you still want your position as a principal, then let’s go. The time to rest is over, and the time to push is now. What do you want, Allie?”
Why was that everyone’s question for me lately?
I glanced over at the picture of the four of us, at Lina’s bright, infectious smile, then to Anne, who scribbled something into the notebook. If either of them had been in my position, they would’ve fought like hell to keep it.
Mom would accept nothing less than me returning as a principal dancer at her company.
I moved my feet into first position and dipped into a demi-plié, ignoring the burn above my right heel. Ribs closed. Shoulders down. Then I rose into relevé, shooting to the balls of my feet.
Pain raced up the back of my calf, dull but insistent. I shut it out with my usual method, pretending it was simply my baseline, and tightened my thighs and core. My quads and glutes reminded me it had been far too long.
But my ankle didn’t waver, wobble, or tremble. It was pissed, but it did the job I assigned.
Kenna smiled. “Do it again.”
I completed every rep she handed out, and by the time we were finished, my ankle throbbed with an insistence I couldn’t block out.
“Ice it. You look way better than you give yourself credit for,” Kenna said as I went through my postclass stretches. “And twenty weeks post-op? You can totally rock heels at the gala. That should shut Charlotte and the other wagging tongues right up.”
“In two weeks?” Anne asked.
“The gala is in two weeks?” I sat with my legs folded over each other, then leaned forward to ease my back.
“Yes.” Anne’s eyes narrowed. “And I’ve been working on it for months, so don’t even think about skipping out. You will be at that museum if I have to drag you myself.”
“See, now that is not enabling,” Kenna said with a grin.
“Don’t take her side.” I shook my head and sat up. “Of course I’m going. Vasily sent an email this morning saying he wanted to talk to Isaac and me, which means it’s about Equinox.”
“I’d say having a role created for you is worth going for.” Kenna sat on the green balance ball.
“I already RSVP’d for you and Hudson.” Anne tucked the notebook under her arm.
Hudson? My stomach fluttered, and those weren’t butterflies. They were more like wasps. “I’m not taking Hudson. Pretty sure our pretend relationship only exists within county lines.” Take Hudson to New York? Even if he wanted to go—which I doubted he did—that would be letting him into my actual life . . . where he could actually hurt me again if he wanted.
“Oh yes, you are.” Anne nodded with each word. “You told me Caroline already made an issue out of it.”
“You did.” Kenna bounced on the ball.
“There will be photographers and journalists—”
“Exactly.” Anne waved her pen at me. “Caroline will see the pictures, and we’ll be one step closer to her accepting your relationship, and by proxy, our family. Which, if you haven’t noticed, isn’t going well, and we’re kind of on a deadline since you’ll be back in New York in August.”