Chapter Nineteen
Noelle closed the door of her studio behind the last student. It was evening and her final class of the day was over, all dancers packed up and out the door with their parents. She breathed a sigh and leaned her back against the door.
“Some days feel longer than others, don’t they?” Breanne, one of the young women who helped her teach stood behind the front counter, cleaning up.
“That’s very true,” Noelle agreed.
“Everything is all put away and sorted up here. You okay if I head out? I’ve got a date tonight. I’d love to go home and change beforehand.”
Noelle took in the glimmer in the young woman’s eyes, a tiny bit jealous of the excitement found there, the anticipation of a fun evening out. Noelle’s night would consist of getting the studio prepared for the next day, then home to soak in a hot bath, and tuck in early with her current book boyfriend. She would bet all the money she had that her own eyes didn’t glimmer over those plans.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of Wes more often than not the past day or two. Well, since he’d walked into her life. But she pushed those daydreams away. Wanting something she couldn’t have was a terrible waste of her time.
“Oh, by the way, this came for you earlier while you were teaching.”
Breanne reached behind the front counter and handed Noelle a small package. It was wrapped in exquisite paper, swirls of various shades of pink mixed with silver and white. Hot pink ribbon adorned it, topped off with a perfect bow.
“That’s beautiful.” She pushed away from the door and moved next to Breanne who handed Noelle the package and shrugged into her coat.
“I know. I’m dying to know what’s inside.”
“Who is it from?”
Breanne shrugged. “It was delivered by a service. I’m not sure if there’s a card or not.” She looked at her watch. “Crud! I’ve gotta go! Have a good night.” With a quick hug she was out the door and gone.
Noelle stood there staring down at the box in her hands. Based on the beauty of the wrapping she had a guess as to who had sent the gift. The pace of her heartbeat increased at the thought, but practical thought reminded her that even if he did send her something, he was leaving. They had no future.
A small card stuck to the bottom caught her attention as she untied the ribbon and unraveled it from the box.
“To the best teacher any man could ask for.”
There was no signature, but one wasn’t needed.
“Wes.” She whispered his name in the quiet of the room.
One more day. She had one more day of baking with him and then he’d be gone. She had no intention of going to the third Bake-Off competition. She had no reason to go. Wes had his family to support him and once she said goodbye after they baked together the next morning, she needed to move on. Still unsure of what to do about the Spellman situation and her studio, she decided that needed to be her focus. Not Wes St. Claire. He wasn’t her future, but her studio was, whether in that building or not.
She hated tearing the gorgeous paper so she pulled the tape gently and kept it in as good a condition as possible. The paper folded and set aside, she opened the box and pulled out a jewelry box with the most ornate design she’d ever seen. Pink and golden hues intertwined along the top and sides. She opened the top and a tiny ballet dancer popped up and spun in a circle as the music began to play.
Tears welled in her eyes. It was almost identical to one she’d had as a little girl. She’d wind it up and let it play for hours and hours, never tiring of watching the little dancer spin around. Her favorite birthstone ring, given to her by her grandmother, had sat inside it, along with a necklace from a candy machine she’d stuck a quarter into and spun the dial. She smiled at the memory of things a child deems precious.
She closed the box and took it to her office, swallowing tears as she went. It was thoughtful of Wes to give her such a beautiful gift, but she couldn’t let her heart get wrapped up in wanting to be with him. She’d accept it for what it was, a thank-you for teaching him to bake.
After the studio was tidied up and the last of the little sweatshirts and mittens that had been left behind were hung up or tucked into cubbies, Noelle turned the lights low and put her favorite waltz on the iPod that was hooked up to the sound system. As the melody floated through the room, she made her way to the center and spun once, testing out her leg. She put all her weight on her other leg, but still had to be cautious. So far, so good. She tried an arabesque, her leg continuing to feel strong.
The music moved through her as she eased into one of her dance routines she’d performed years before. The movements were simple compared to all she could do, but to dance again at any level rejuvenated her spirit unlike anything else had since her accident.
Each note encouraged her next step, the movements second nature to her. For a brief moment in time, all the worry about her studio, all the heartache of knowing she wouldn’t be a part of Wes’s life, it all faded away.
Lost in the music, the magic that was dance to her, she put all her weight on her bad leg as she went into Pas de Valse without thinking. Pain shot through her thigh, ripping the peaceful moment from her and crashing her back to reality. The music continued as she crumpled to the floor and cried.
*
Wes stood quietly in the doorway and watched. He’d snuck in without Noelle noticing. She’d put on music and was dancing. The low light in the room with one brighter one in the center showcased her like the ballerina in the jewelry box he’d purchased for her that morning.
Walking the streets of Marietta, thinking of all his dad had said to him, he’d wandered into the lobby of the Graff Hotel and decided to sit for lunch. He passed a tiny gift shop, the jewelry box catching his eye as it sat on its perch in the window. The instinct that Noelle had to have it urged him into the store to purchase it, have it wrapped, and delivered to her studio that afternoon.
Even though they were scheduled to bake the next day together, he couldn’t stop whatever it was inside him that drew him to her. He didn’t just want her, he needed her. And he was a man who didn’t have a single need in his life.
He’d made his way to her studio, glad to find the door unlocked, but unsure if she was still there since the lights were low. Mesmerized by the sight of her dancing, he’d stopped short and couldn’t move. Like a statue, he stayed a mere step inside the door, drawn in by her graceful movements. Wes had seen professional ballet performances in his life. But this, this was something different.
She moved the music as much as it moved her in a seamless flow of motion. Her eyes were closed, taking each step by feel and memory. Man, she must have been something to behold on a large stage. Although he preferred what he saw before him. Her talent took his breath away; her beauty captured his heart.
The spell broke like the snapping of a twig, however, when she grabbed her right thigh and crumpled to the ground. The music continued but all Wes heard were her sobs as she lay there. In three steps he was beside her, kneeling to where he could wrap her in his arms. Grateful for many reasons, he let out the breath he’d been holding when she let him pull her to him.
“Noelle, are you all right?” He whispered in her ear.
She nodded, her head moving against his chest, but her tears still continued to flow.
In the middle of the floor of her studio, he knelt with her in his arms. Unsure of the level of pain she was in, his gut said to hold her and wait. So he did. He’d wait forever if she’d agree to stay and never let go.
Her crying subsided and she looked up at him. The tears that welled in her blue eyes and her pink, tear-stained cheeks almost gutted him. “Are you okay to stand?”
She nodded again.
He stood, her body still wrapped up close. “Can you put weight on it?”
“Yes.” Although she stood on her own, she still leaned into him, her hands clinging to the front of his button-down shirt beneath his long wool coat.
The song that had been playing ended and Keith Urban began singing about blue not being the color for the woman he loves. In that moment, Wes could understand the sentiment. Looking down at her, feeling her lean into him, he began to sway them back and forth. A subtle, gentle rocking, so as not to hurt her leg; they found the beat of the music and moved together, her clinging to him as a lifeline, him praying they could stay that way forever.
The first time they’d danced together at Grey’s he’d guessed she was a professional dancer. Intrigued by her, he’d wanted to know more. Now, he wanted everything. Any fear he’d ever had about the white picket fence, the slower pace of life, the forever that so many had—he’d run from it but now he wanted it. And he wanted it with her.
“Thank you for the lovely gift.” Although she almost whispered, her voice echoed through the room.
So lost in thoughts of wanting forever with this woman, he fought to comprehend what she was talking about.
“The jewelry box. It’s beautiful.”
“Oh. Yes. You’re welcome. I saw it and…well, I knew you had to have it.”
She nodded and looked down, tears rolling down her cheeks once more.
He stopped their dancing but continued to hold her close with one arm as he lifted her chin with his other hand so their eyes met. It pained him to no end seeing the hurt in her eyes. He’d move heaven and earth to change that. “Why the tears again? Is it your leg?”
She shook her head back and forth, releasing her chin from his hand.
“Then what is it, Noelle? Please name it and I’ll fix it.”
Her eyes met his once more as she said, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He pulled back a bit. Was she serious? Glad she looked at him again, he read her eyes. She wasn’t questioning a nice present or kind gesture. It was his feelings for her she doubted. And could he blame her? Sure, he’d never meant to come across as dishonest in how he handled the Spellman situation, and although they’d shared hot kisses that left him awake at night wanting more, he’d never once told her how he felt about her. Never once said a solid yes about staying in Marietta or wanting her in his life. Hell, he’d doubted himself all this time. But not anymore. Not about Noelle.
“Why are you still in Marietta? There’s nothing here for you.”
“You’re here. And I’m in love with you.”
It was her turn to pull back, her hands moving from his chest to his biceps, his hands now at her waist.
“I…I don’t…”
“Don’t say anything. I said that to be honest with you, not to get a response.”
She shook her head and looked down. “There’s just so much happening all at once. So much to figure out.”
In Wes’s mind, the only thing to figure out was how to get Noelle to not sprint in the other direction. But he understood her need for time to sort out feelings.
He ducked down until she looked at him. “Hey. I know this is a lot to take in. And believe me when I say this wasn’t planned. Me being here, us dancing. But I can’t stand not being with you, Noelle. I had to be near you, even if just for this evening. I can’t imagine my world without you.”
Tears fell again, tearing at his heart.
“Noelle, I’m sorry I hurt you. So sorry. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me. But you’ve got to trust me. I never intentionally hid anything from you.”
She nodded in response. Not a show of complete forgiveness, but she still hadn’t sprinted for the door, so Wes took it as a good sign.
“Hey. You must be exhausted still from the past few days. Let me get you home, get you situated where your leg is okay. We can talk more tomorrow when we bake together. Deal?”
She nodded again.
Another small victory. He’d take as many as he could get at that point. One step at a time he would work his way back into her heart. And he’d start with what he’d wanted to do the other night—get her home and settled with a bubble bath and tuck her in. Safe and sound, knowing she was loved.