Chapter 2

~ Gabrielle ~

Present Day

Whipping into the parking space in front of the dance studio, I hopped out of the car and swung open the door. I smiled at the older woman manning the reception desk.

“Hi, Gloria. How did they do today?”

“They’re still finishing up. It sounded like they had a good time in there.” She pointed at my head. “I love your hair.”

“Thanks. I got it colored, so it’s got all these different shades of blonde going on.”

“Well, it looks fabulous. You look gorgeous, like always.” She eyed the white peasant blouse and slim cropped jeans I wore and shook her head. “What I wouldn’t give to wear something like that.”

“You’re such a charmer, Gloria.”

I moved toward the viewing window on the opposite wall of the small waiting area. Inside the room, a group of young girls—all wearing pink ballet leotards and tights with white tutus—stood in a line, listening as the instructor demonstrated the correct positioning of their arms. I smiled, remembering when I was their age and learning the proper positions. I had been determined to get everything right the first time, and without a doubt, the little girl standing right smack in the middle of the line with her brows bent in concentration was doing the same thing.

As if feeling my eyes on her, she lifted her gaze from her teacher and spotted me peering through the window in the mirror. She gave a little wave before turning her attention back to the position of her arms as she tried to mimic the instructor. My heart swelled with pride.

I loved that my daughter shared my passion for ballet, so much so that the one day a week I took her to the studio was a big event. I only wished I could enroll her in more classes, but the one would have to do for now, as it was all I could afford on the small wages I made doing medical transcription part-time out of my home. Maybe if I talked to Brad about some extra money…but he would say one class was more than enough. Perhaps I could figure out a way to stretch something to make it work, wanting to do whatever, sacrifice anything, to make my baby happy.

The instructor gave a final bow, teaching everyone to follow her lead, before the door next to me flew open, banging against the wall. Earsplitting chatter surrounded me, along with excited bodies, as the girls rushed into the small waiting room in search of their parents.

“Hi, Mom!”

I leaned down and pulled my daughter into a hug. “How was class, baby?”

“It was so much fun! We twirled!” She wound her finger in demonstration.

“Wow! I bet you did a terrific job too,” I said, and she nodded in agreement. “Okay, let’s find your shoes.”

As we searched under the chairs for her sneakers, the instructor, Ms. Wendy, walked out of the room and smiled at me. “Dani did wonderful today. Her turnout and her center are really improving.”

“She’s been working on it at home a lot.”

“She has a natural talent for ballet.” Ms. Wendy eyed me. My long, trim figure wasn’t something I could hide, and she was obviously wondering if that’s where Dani’s innate ability came from. “Are you sure you didn’t dance? You certainly have the body for it.”

“No, not really. Just a little bit as a child.” I gave a quick smile and turned my head, pretending to be doing a thorough search for Dani’s shoes.

“Oh well, that’s a shame. Perhaps you’d be interested in one of our adult classes?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure it would fit in my budget at this point.”

“Well, take a schedule and if it works out, we’d love to have you.” Ms. Wendy gave my arm a squeeze before greeting another mother.

Once her back faced me, I closed my eyes. I hated lying, but I didn’t want to open the door to the still painful subject. I hadn’t danced in many, many years, and planned to keep that time where it belonged—in the past. Dani didn’t even know I once dreamed of dancing professionally. That part of my life remained locked away, along with the other significant occurrences, and I’d swallowed the key in order to move on.

Tucking Dani into the backseat of the car, I climbed into the driver’s seat of my trusty Honda Accord and pulled out of the parking lot. The small used car was a major step up from the Ford Fiesta held together with duct tape. It had taken awhile, with a lot of hard work and persistence, but Dani and I could finally spread our wings a bit.

We’d lived hand to mouth for so long that it was refreshing not having to count every penny all the time. We were still on our own, so to speak, but ever since moving in with Brad after we’d been dating for six months, he helped where he could, at least monetarily. In other areas, he still needed work.

It frustrated me that he refused to be a father figure for Dani, reminding me how he wasn’t biologically her father. Despite his resistance, however, I hoped that one day he would get past it and treat Dani as his own, especially since her real father declined to be involved in her life. He’d made that perfectly clear by saying nothing.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at Dani, who sat facing the open window, enjoying the warm summer air blowing across her face. Her bun sagged, allowing tendrils of her dark hair to blow around, and her sharp blue eyes held a sparkle in them. She may be the spitting image of her father, but her happy demeanor was all her own.

Seeing him every day in Dani’s face made the road to getting past my life with Danny much more difficult. Adding additional insult to injury, everywhere I turned, I either saw him or heard him; his songs playing on the radio or one of his videos showing on TV.

In the paper or on the news, people blasted him for his music, calling him everything from a bigot to some form of the devil. I thought the accusations were ridiculous and understood his lyrics didn’t reflect his personal beliefs, but rather the culture. Others didn’t seem to see it that way. After hearing about one of his songs discussing domestic abuse, which I had recognized as being about his father, my own mother had expressed outrage over me being with someone who sang about such things, going so far as to ask if he’d abused me when we’d dated. I reminded her that she had liked him before the demise of our relationship, which she conveniently ignored.

His face was now plastered on multiple billboards around the area, announcing his plans to tour again after a hiatus, and it took everything within me to avert my eyes from his piercing gaze, the only way to escape the hollow pain in my chest that crept in whenever I saw him. Rumors of him being in rehab had swirled around, and being such a private and stubborn person, I was happy to hear he’d sought help and was now on the mend, free to go back to one of the many models he supposedly dated. Now, if only I could mend myself.

Everyone was proud of their homegrown star, ecstatic about his return to his roots. I was proud of him too, and happy for him and his success, but all the constant reminders of him didn’t help to plug the gaping hole in my heart.

To everyone else, I was content with life. I loved my daughter, enjoyed being a mother, and was in a pleasant, if not terribly exciting, relationship with Brad. He helped to support us so I didn’t have to work full-time, which allowed me to be there for Dani at all times, and I was thankful for the freedom. What I wouldn’t tell anyone, however, was not a day went by where I didn’t think about Danny.

Over the years, I’d come to recognize how all-consuming our relationship had been. I’d almost loved Danny too much, allowing much of myself to become lost, wanting only him as the center of my life. Despite that, I believed the love we’d shared had been genuine and our emotions very real. He, apparently, hadn’t felt the same way, and had made it obvious that horrid, painful night at The Sanctuary.

I shuddered. That night had been a nightmare.

Yet, even with the negative past, I missed him, even though he’d made it crystal clear how he felt about me. To this day, I still didn’t understand the drastic change in his feelings, seeming to transform overnight, and regardless of what I told everyone else, I would never get over that night—or him. I was still so angry, shocked, and hurt by his words, followed by him snubbing his daughter. In spite of everything, deep down, I still loved him and forever would, as wrong and twisted as that seemed. My feelings didn’t matter, though. I would continue living without him, and without closure, as I had for the past six years, telling myself to be gratified with my life. I had to remind myself that even though everything with Danny had started out beautifully, it hadn’t always been that way, and things could have been worse. Much worse.

But, six years ago, meeting Danny had transformed one of the worst times of my life into one of the best, if only for a short while, and I would never forget that.