His side of the bed is cold, and without opening my eyes I know he is gone. The scent of his cologne lingers in my room. Ethan was here. We spent the night in each other’s arms.

I roll to my back and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars that are still stuck on my ceiling. Though it is against everything I force myself to believe, Ethan has come to my rescue. It’s impossible to stay mad at him. Not when he is my protector, my knight in shining armor. The one I can always count on to bail me out of trouble.

My mind wanders for a few minutes as I remember his chiseled chest and the tattoo that ran across his heart and up to his shoulder. I want to see his body in broad daylight. I want to be in his arms again. I can’t stop the crashing waves of emotion that threaten to drown me. I love him, there is no denying it. I have loved him every single day since I met him. It’s a constant battle between my heart and my brain, and at this very moment my heart is winning the war.

Frustrated, I take a pillow from under my head, hold it over my face and scream.  “Goddamn, mother of pearl, what the fuck is wrong with me?” Inhaling the pillow, a stronger scent of Ethan travels up my nose and all the tension in my body fades.

I'm fucked.

That's the only way I can describe it. Everything inside me is warning me I still need to hate him. I need to blame him for all of it. But my heart tells me a different story. It reminds me of the love I have for Ethan. The love we shared. He was the first man who ever held me in his arms and made love to me. He was my first love, the one who is impossible to forget.

The alarm on my cell phone buzzes and I grunt with pain as I get out of bed. I need to push away all the confusion and focus on the grand re-opening. Surprisingly, when I stand I realize I only have a minor headache that will be cured once I chug a bottle of water and down a few aspirin.

When I make my way downstairs, my mother’s in the kitchen, ready for her day. Unlike her regular routine of spending her day with my father, today she’s coming with me to meet with the clients. I’m a temporary fix, so she will need to know all of the details once the studio is up and running. 

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks when I groan at the sunlight.

Blocking the bright stream with my hands, I head straight for the coffee pot. “Never better,” I lie.

“I'm ready when you are,” she says in her Darlene tone. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know she is eyeing me.

“What is it, Mom?” I pour myself a large cup of coffee.

“You’re wearing jeans.”

I sigh and open the medicine cabinet. “I am.”

“How can you wear jeans to a ballet studio?”

Annoyed, I turn around too quickly and my head throbs. “Mom, it’s a grand re-opening. People will be walking around, meeting with us and looking at the classes we offer. I don’t need to be in tights and a tutu.”

“Maybe not, but you should look professional.” Her lips are pursed.

“Well.” I fold my hands, silently pleading for this argument to go away. “I didn’t pack for this. The clothes I have here are limited, so this is the nicest thing in my suitcase.”

Annoyance appears on my mothers face. Her eyebrows pinch together and she shakes her head. “Fine. Let’s go.”

When her back is turned, I glance up at the ceiling and pray to the heaven above. Please let this day go smoothly.

Thirty minutes later we pull in to the studio, and by the audible gasp from my mother I know she approves of what I have done. The banner I hung is bright and colorful with the words Grand Re-Opening written in bold gold letters, and there is an arch of balloons that leads you to the main door.

My mother steps out of the car and I can see that her eyes have filled with tears. “You like?” I ask and walk around to her.

“I haven’t been here in so long, Leslie.” She glances over at me with a smile on her face. “It all looks beautiful.”

“Come on.” I loop my arm with hers. “I want you to see the inside before anyone gets here.”

The studio is as different as night and day. The floors sparkle, the mirrors are streak free and the air is fresh. My mother meanders around, letting her hand graze the surfaces as she takes it all in.

“I didn’t change anything inside. It simply needed some TLC. The layout you had is the best one for the space.”

“Your father would be proud,” she says. It’s the best compliment she could have given me. Darlene would never admit she’s proud, but I know that’s what she meant.

“Thanks.” I unlock the front door. “We are officially open for business.”

* * *

We meet with twenty new clients who are interested in the programs we offer, from ballet to jazz. Some people drop by simply to wish us good luck. When Stephanie strolls in wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses covering her face, I know she’s still hurting from the previous night.

“Everything looks beautiful.” She leans in for a hug. “How are you, Mrs. Sutton?” Stephanie smiles kindly at my mother.

“Oh, Stephanie, what a wonderful surprise!” My mother’s voice is filled with joy. She was always my mother’s favorite.

“Delivery for Leslie Sutton,” a man announces as he walks in with a large bouquet of pink and white lotus flowers hidden in a sea of white lilies. I glance at Stephanie, and though she is focused on the conversation she is having with my mother, I notice the way her lips curl up into a grin.

“That’s me,” I say.

The delivery man hands me the vase, and the scent that permeates from the flowers is intoxicating. Long lotus stems flow from the glass vase, and neatly tucked inside is a card. Centering the arrangement on a table, I read the card.

Have dinner with me tonight?

I can’t help but grin. There is no name on the card, but I know exactly whom they are from. I slide the card into my back pocket and return to the conversation with my mother and Stephanie. When another potential client appears, my mother chooses to give them a tour of the studio, and Stephanie glances over at me.

“From the smile on your face, I’ll assume the wine didn’t do much damage to you last night.” Stephanie bumps her shoulder to mine.

“Remind me to never drink with you again.” I shake my head and laugh.

“You’re fine. I’m the one who had to down a cheeseburger in order to get out of bed.”

“But you do it with such grace,” I tease, and stand in position one.

Stephanie sticks her tongue out at me. “What did the note say?”

“He asked me to dinner.”

“Are you going?” Stephanie lifts on her feet. “Of course you’re going. It’s dinner with Ethan. What am I talking about?”

“I don’t know.” I can’t hide the hesitation in my voice.

“You owe him.” Stephanie jumps to his defense. “He drove you home last night.”

“You called him to pick me up.” My hands rest at my hips in defense.

“Whatever.” She shrugs. “You still owe him.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Stephanie raises her hand to stop me. “I don’t understand why you two can’t figure it all out.”

“You really have to ask?” I hike up my jeans and show her the scar that runs up my leg.

“That’s not his fault, and you need to stop blaming him for it. That was all Jerry.” She purses her lips and I know she’s right.

I sigh and swallow away the thoughts of it all. “He knew I was leaving. We had a plan and he didn’t come after me.”

Stephanie takes a second and cracks her knuckles. Her eyes scan the room looking for my mother before glancing back at me. “This isn’t my story to tell, but you have a few missing pieces to that story,” Stephanie says in a low tone.

“What do you mean?” My eyebrows furrow and I lean further into her.

“You need to ask Ethan what happened after you left.”

“I know what happened. He took over for his father.”

Stephanie shook her head. “Ask him what really happened.”

I open my mouth to ask her what she means, but my mother appears. “This is my daughter,” she says, introducing me to the potential clients. “She used to train here seven days a week when she was younger. She was offered a prestigious position to dance for Julliard.”

“I’ll see you later,” Stephanie mouths to me, and she is out the door before I have a chance to stop her.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say to the woman and her husband. Their two young daughters are hiding behind them, and I peek around to greet them. “Hi,” I say in a soft voice before crouching down. “I love your dress.” The one girl smiles at me, and I look up at their parents. “I can keep them company if you need to discuss anything further with my mom.” I look back at the girls. “Do you want to see the all the colorful tutus I have in the back room?” Both of theirs eyes widen.

“Thank you,” my mother says, leading the parents into the office.

“Come, girls.” I stand and lead them to the back room. They both gasp when I flick the light on and notice the number of costumes that line the rack. “These are all from when I was younger.”

“Do you still dance?” the older one asks.

“Only when I want to be really silly,” I joke. “Go on. You can try the tutus on if you like.”

They both run to the shiny, beaded clothing. I watch as they take turns pulling different costumes from the hangers. A feeling of nostalgia washes over me and I lean into the doorway. That was me once, the excited little girl who couldn’t wait to try on the new dance costumes.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and pulls me from my thoughts. A new text message appears with a number I have never seen before.

Unknown: Hi.

Unknown: How did you sleep?

Unknown: I’m waiting on a response.

I smile and hit the reply button.

Me: I slept like a baby :) I didn’t know how to get in touch with you since I didn’t have your number.

Ethan: Stephanie sucks as a wingman.

Me: I’m assuming that’s how you got my cell phone number?

Ethan: Actually, I guessed it.

Ethan: How’s the grand re-opening?

Me: Perfect. Thank you for the flowers.

Ethan: Does that mean yes?

Me: Maybe.

Ethan: That smile is telling me a different story.

I spin around, looking for him. The room is empty, and my mother is still chatting away in the office.

Me: Are you here?

Ethan: I can see you from my office. I’m directly across the street.

Hitting the call button, I dial his number and look up at the building across the street.

“Hi.” His voice is low, and it immediately causes my body to shiver.

“You can’t see me smiling from your office,” I protest and walk closer to the glass window.

“No, but I can now.”

I look up and find him standing by the window.

“Have dinner with me, Les?”

“Okay,” I whisper. “I should get back. My mom left me in charge of two little ones.”

“Okay. But, Les?”

“Yes?”

“I behaved last night because you had a few drinks in you. But I want you to know that I plan on kissing you like I used to.”

I swallow back and bite on my lower lip to stop the massive smile from growing on my face. “I’ll see you later, Ethan.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

I turn away from the window and press my phone to my chest. Stephanie said I need to ask Ethan the real reason he never came after me all those years ago, and this is my chance.

Him offering to kiss me is simply an added bonus.