Angel

I walk down the main hall of Miss. Valentina’s school of dance at six o’clock with my duffle bag slung over my shoulder and a little extra spring in my step.

I am meeting with Cammie Onyx tomorrow. I thought meeting Ruby Bissette was fantastic, and it was, it really was. But Cammie can launch my career in a heartbeat. She’s the Pharrell Williams of the dance world with all the connections that could put me on stages in Russia and Paris and the Metropolitan Opera House in New York.

And River made it happen for me within seventy-two hours of meeting him. Miss Valentina has been telling me for years that I’m a great dancer but that I’m not quite ready for the next step.

River sees something in me that I’ve been hiding from myself. He sees greatness, potential, and success. It’s like he removed blinders from my eyes, and I’m discovering a whole new me.

My phone buzzes in my bag, and when I check the screen, my heart does a little flip in my chest. It’s River.

“Hey, good timing. I’m just leaving the studio.”

“Can I see you?”

His voice is flat, and he sounds tired.

“Are you okay, River?”

“Not really. Can I pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wait outside for you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just be with me. That’s all I need. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

Something is wrong. There was a sort of desperation in his voice. What could be bothering him? Maybe someone on his team was injured, or even worse, his family. Maybe he got into some trouble or . . . I need to stop. I could go on and on playing this mental guessing game.

Outside, it’s a beautiful summer evening, not too hot, and a soft breeze is blowing the leaves on the trees lining the street in front of the studio. People are gliding by on their bikes, and I can hear children laughing and playing at a park nearby.

I press my back against the brick wall and slide down onto the sidewalk with my arms wrapped around my legs and pop my ear buds into my ears. I didn’t bother changing out of my black leotard and sheer pink skirt. I thought I was going straight home to shower, so I swapped my ballet shoes for flip-flops and left my sweaty clothes on. I hope River isn’t planning on taking me anywhere special because we are going to need a serious detour to my place first if he is.

He didn’t sound like he was in the going out sort of mood, though. He seemed like he needed to talk about something serious.

Now my mind is wandering again, worrying about all the things he might have to say to me like This isn’t working out, or I think maybe we’re taking this too fast, or I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.

On and on, my brain invents reasons for him to leave me. Why do I do that? No one has ever abandoned me. Now that I think about it, there’s nobody to abandon me. My parents and my sister are physically right here in town. I can go and see them whenever I want to, but they aren’t, nor have they ever been, there for me emotionally.

I’ve existed on my own for so long, I don’t know how to let someone in, but I’d better learn how, and fast, because River isn’t someone I want to let get away.

Lost in my music and concentrating on thoughts of a future with River, I don’t hear him pull up and get out of his car. I look up when he stands in front of me, blocking the sun, and I smile, but he doesn’t return the gesture. He offers me his hand and helps me up. As soon as I’m on my feet, his mouth is covering mine and he has my back pressed against the cold bricks. He snakes one hand around the back of my neck, and the other is on my torso, dangerously close to cupping my breast.

I melt against him and breathe in the faint smell of his woodsy cologne mixed with sweat. I run my hands along his solid, capable arms and thread them through his hair. His shirt is damp, and so are the curls at the base of his neck.

The kiss builds into an R- or possibly an X- rating before I move my hands to his chest and gently push him away a few inches.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask. He leans toward me until our foreheads are touching, still holding me tightly.

“I had a crappy day. I just needed to see that there is something beautiful and pure and good left in the world.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Pretty Dancer. Let me take you home with me. We can have dinner and talk or have dinner and not talk . . . whichever.” He smiles, but it’s not his usual sparkling, carefree smile.

“I need to change. I didn’t shower before I left.”

“I like you dirty, and I’m not exactly spring clean either. We can shower together.”

“Hmm . . . a shower alone in my stall with no tub and a Lean Cuisine microwave meal with reruns of Law and Order SVU? Or sex in a cathedral-sized shower with the hottest man on earth and a gourmet dinner cooked by a professional chef?”

I hold out my hands with my palms up, pretending to balance my options. “I’m not sure,” I say and shrug my shoulders.

He rolls his eyes and scoops me up into his arms to carry me to his car.

“I never said anything about a professional chef and a gourmet dinner.”

“Ah, well that’s part of the deal then. I’m throwing that in myself.”

“Do you cook?” he asks while he tries to buckle me in. I take the seatbelt from him and buckle it myself.

“A little. I’ve never had much need to, but I can make a few things.”

“So you’re going to cook for me?”

“Sure, it’ll be fun.”

“After we shower,” he says.

“Yes, for sure, after we shower.”

He kisses me chastely and closes the door. I look out the window while he rounds the car. Sasha and two of her friends are standing by the door to the studio gawking and whispering into each other’s ears.

River slides in next to me and starts the car.

“I think we just put on a show for the girls.”

“Shit, sorry. I’m usually really careful about that stuff around kids, but you have no idea what a sight for sore eyes you just were.”

“They are exposed to much worse, I’m sure. Kids these days know too much for their own good.”

“I agree. My nieces are boy crazy already. I don’t want my kids to grow up so fast, but I don’t know how to prevent it other than moving onto a ranch and homeschooling them.”

“You like kids, huh?”

“I love kids like crazy. I want a half-dozen or more.”

He looks over to see my reaction.

“That’s a lot of kids.”

“Too many?”

“I guess that depends on what you consider too many. It’s a lot, that’s all.”

“Do you want kids someday?”

“I never thought about it. My future has always been dance. Just dance.”

“You never thought you might meet somebody and want to have a family?”

“Nope, family never meant much to me. Mine sorta blows, ya know? I figured it was one of the things I had to sacrifice for my career. Most of my friends who got married when we were in college are already filing for divorce.”

We ride along, listening to the radio for a few miles, and I start worrying again. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so honest with my feelings about family.

“So, are you saying you wouldn’t entertain the thought of having kids and settling down someday if you met the right person?” he asks.

“No, I’m not saying that.”

I could totally see myself settling down with River and having a baby.

“I’m confused. Say, for instance, this thing with us worked out and we . . . you know . . .”

“Fell in love?” God, I can’t believe I just blurted that out. He’s going to think I’m some kind of clingy dingbat, planning a wedding after one date. Well two, sort of, if you count riding in on a white horse and saving me from the wicked witch of the ballet, Miss Valentina. But he insinuated, didn’t he? I don’t know what else he could have filled the blank with.

“Yes, that. Would you have kids with me?”

“Six kids?”

“Any kids.”

“Well, maybe one or two,” I say and roll my eyes playfully.

“That’s an improvement from a minute ago when you said family blows.”

I grin and chuckle. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I wasn't exposed to many happy, well-adjusted families growing up.”

“No family is perfect,” he says, and I sense him shutting down again. Talking about kids had him cracking a smile, but all of a sudden, the frown line between his brows is back.

“River, you want to talk? Something about your family is bothering you, isn’t it?”

He reaches out and takes my hand in his.

“It’s my brother, David. I found out something about him today, something terrible.”

“I’m so sorry. You don’t have to go into details. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s all right. He’s been a thorn in the Kelly family’s side forever, but a couple of months ago, his wife and kids took off. I didn’t find out about it until now because I don’t come home as much when the team is traveling.”

“That’s terrible. Why did she leave?”

“He said she just disappeared, that she took the kids and left because she was sick of him, but today, I found out he’s been abusing all of them. They left the country, and they aren’t planning on coming back. She texted me and asked me to sell the house for her and send her the money.”

“Oh my God, she left the country? It must have been awful.” I don’t feel comfortable asking any more questions. I’m not sure how much of this he wants to tell me. His brother abusing his sister-in-law is pretty private family stuff.

“I don’t mean to unload my family’s dirty laundry on you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

“I feel comfortable talking to you. I trust you.”

He lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles.

“It’s weird. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but you’re the first person I needed to see today when the shit hit the fan.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” I say and smile. I know what he means, but I’m trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

“It’s a very good thing.”

“I can’t remember if I thanked you earlier when you called. I was a little out of control, but thank you for getting me that meeting tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome. I hope I don’t live to regret it.”

“Why would you?”

“You’re going to fly off to New York and Europe, and I’m never going to see you again.”

“What about you? Your job isn’t exactly an office job, you know.”

“If you really want something, you make it work. I’d make it work for you.”

“Then I’ll make it work for you too. If I become famous, that is.”

“You will, Pretty Dancer. I have no doubts.”

“So this is a thing? Like a serious, exclusive thing now?”

“This has been a serious, exclusive thing since I laid eyes on you in your class the other day. I like you, remember?”

“I do, and I like you too.”

“Good, it’s settled then. We are officially dating.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” I say, dragging out the word, boyfriend, like a lovesick teenager, and he smirks.

“As long as you’ll have me. So I can call you my girlfriend now too?”

“Yes, boyfriend, you may.”

“How about a kiss to make it really official?”

“I’ll give you a lot more than a kiss.”

He turns into the long, wooded driveway that leads to his house and steps on the gas. I brace my hand against the door and laugh as the car kicks up fallen leaves and sticks from the driveway.

“Shower first,” he says, throwing the car into park and hopping out. I’ve got my door open before he arrives to get it for me. He grabs my hand and slams the door, tugging me along into the house.

This is going to be so much better than lean cuisine and SVU.

So. Much. Better.