The First Move Page 18

  “Okay.” Her mother’s voice rang with doubt, but she didn’t question the excuse. “Call me if you have any more news.”

  “Sure. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Renia depressed the button on the phone and hurriedly dialed the person responsible for a phone call from her mother.

  “Hello?”

  “How dare you tell Mom about Miles,” Renia said to her sister.

  “What?”

  “I just got off the phone with Mom, who called because you told her I was dating someone.”

  “You are dating someone. Am I supposed to lie to Mom?”

  “I just want to keep my business private.”

  “Hah! You spilled the beans to Mom about my relationship with Dan. Turnabout is fair play.”

  “That’s different.” Renia didn’t know why, but it was.

  “Because it wasn’t your privacy?”

  “Just...” There was no good way to explain the bitter, selfish desire to keep her mother out of her business, other than that it was bitter and selfish. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “You know, you and Mom have a fine relationship outside of this one thing...”

  It wasn’t one thing. It was an infant girl Renia had handed over to some nurses eighteen years ago—after her mother had pawned her off on an aunt because she couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  “...and if you were just willing to talk to her, I think you would both be happier. Face your demons and all that.” Renia opened her mouth to argue, but Tilly didn’t stop to listen. “And I’m not talking about your daughter. I’m talking about this idea you have that Mom abandoned you.”

  “What do you know? You were twelve.”

  “But I was the one left behind.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MILES OPENED THE passenger door for a tense, silent Rey. She clutched her purse tightly in her hand, as if it would fall through the earth to China should she let it go.

  Normally he would describe Rey as self-possessed. Today, he’d describe her as a fancy fire poker—tight, hard and wound upon itself in a beautiful design. Nice-looking, sure, but dangerous if he wasn’t careful.

  “Hard day?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  Okay, then. If they had made progress in their relationship Saturday night, it didn’t extend to whatever had pissed her off today.

  “You’ll feel better after dancing.” She gave him a look that would douse a fire and he just laughed. “Okay, I’ll feel better when you’re dancing.”

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough day after a rougher morning.

  He parked and walked around the car to open the door for her, but she was already out, holding on to her purse, her shoulders up at her ears.

  “Will you be able to dance in those shoes?” he asked.

  Rey was as fresh as if she were just leaving for work, rather than coming from it. There wasn’t a wrinkle in her tan linen slacks or gauzy, pale pink tank top. The lightly painted toenails he’d admired so much on Friday night poked through some strappy brown sandals that could be either comfortable or could be blister-city—who could tell with women’s shoes?

  “I’ll be fine,” she said tersely.

  Okay. Maybe he wouldn’t feel better after dancing.

  They walked to the dance studio in silence. Miles didn’t give her much personal space, but he didn’t reach for her hand, either. When she didn’t push him away or avoid their brushed hands, he figured he wasn’t as bad off as her posture indicated.

  Dancing would be precarious. He wanted to be able to touch her without shattering the brittle glue holding her together. One false move and she might bolt.

  “Did everyone practice their steps this week?” The instructor’s encouraging question was met with silence by the entire class. The irritated young man from the previous class was present, but he didn’t look happy about it. Neither did his girlfriend. Looked like Miles and Rey weren’t the only couple battered about their lives outside of class.

  “No? Well, let’s see the three steps you learned last week.” The instructor turned on some music, then raised his voice to be heard over the pulse. “I’ll walk around and see how you’re doing.”

  Miles held out his hand and Rey folded her fingers over. “Is this about Saturday morning? I should’ve made you tell me what was wrong in the car.”

  He couldn’t have deflated her faster with a pinprick. Her shoulders drooped and her back curved into his hand.

  The instructor came around and pushed Rey’s back straight. “You need to exude confidence when you dance salsa. Stand up tall. Now start.” He counted out the rhythm and, when he was satisfied, left.

  “It’s just my mom, okay? But you already know we don’t get along, so there’s nothing more to say.”

  “Ready for a turn?” He pulled their arms out and led her into the turn. “We could talk about Saturday morning.”

  “Now?” Here eyebrows were raised to her hairline when she turned to face him.

  They settled back into a salsa step. “I’m hoping the dancing relaxes you enough to open up to me. We can talk about Saturday morning or your relationship with your mom. Your pick.”

  He initiated the cross body lead, and she sighed. “Is this a deal breaker? If I don’t talk, you leave.”

  “Why would I leave?” Did she think tension or a little silence was enough to make him leave? He’d waited for her for nearly twenty years.

  The instructor clapped for the class’s attention. They were learning the Salsa Swing step next, a turn taken from the Lindy Hop. Miles paid enough attention to the instructor to help Rey through the steps, but his mind wasn’t on the dancing. His mind was on his partner. His partner who was the same girl he’d dreamed about in high school, yet so much more complicated.

  Complicated sounded bad, like the woman you run from because complicated and crazy both start with C. Nuanced. Rey was nuanced. She had stones he might never overturn.

  Once they were comfortable with the new step, Miles tried again. “How about I ask questions? You answer. Elaborate as you wish, but at least give me an answer.”

  She didn’t answer, which seemed close enough to a yes.

  He pulled her close in, closer than normal so no one else could hear them. “Are you an alcoholic?”

  She fumbled, stepping hard on his foot. Then she pulled away from him, and he was certain she wasn’t going to answer this question. But, she recovered her equilibrium. “I don’t know. I call myself that sometimes.”

  “Are you going to elaborate?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she was dancing smoothly again. “As a teenager I, um, abused alcohol. I drank to get drunk and forget that my dad was dead. That my brother was dead. That my grandfather was dead.” She paused. There were obviously more problems she drank to forget, but he could tell she wasn’t going to talk about them now. She was telling him more than he’d expected, so he didn’t push.

  “When I got pregnant, I stopped drinking. It wasn’t easy, but my body wasn’t dependent on the booze, so it wasn’t AA-level hard. I wasn’t the clinical definition of an alcoholic, but...that’s splitting hairs, I guess.”

  “But you don’t drink.”

  “No. Alcohol—what I do when drinking—scares me.”

  Miles was grateful for the instructor’s interruption. He needed the time to process what Re
y was telling him. Every time he thought he understood how deep her pain went, she revealed another level. Every time he thought he would never be more impressed with what she had overcome, she told him something new.

  “Okay,” the instructor interrupted with a clap. “We’re going to fancy it up a little. A basic right turn into a cross body lead for the women, with some handwork in the middle for the men. If you go out dancing at a club, this will look really cool, but it’s just putting together two things you’ve already learned.”

  Miles paid enough attention this time to figure out what handwork they were learning, then turned his focus back to Rey.

  With his back to her, close enough for him to talk softly and keep their hands clasped together, he had to ask the question burning in his chest. “Why’d you drink Friday night?”

  She tried to step away, but he kept hold of her hands and continued dancing. “You scare me more.”

  “What?” He missed a step.

  “You heard me. I’m not saying it again and I’m not elaborating.”

  He’d heard her, but he didn’t understand the answer. Or believe it, truth be told. How he felt about this relationship was not a question. He’d seen her at the wedding and known he still wanted her, but with a deeper understanding of what it meant to want and need than he’d had at fourteen.

  Once she’d been nice to Sarah, his decision to pursue her had been made. Loving her wasn’t a question right now. Love was just a word, a detail. She was the first girl he’d ever wanted and she would be the last woman he’d ever love.

  He snickered. For a guy with an ex-wife, he was feeling very much like he’d been a one-woman man his entire life.

  She tensed at his chuckle, shifting away from him. He pulled her into the Salsa Swing turn and tightened his hold on her back before he ruined this entire conversation with a stupid laugh at his own dumb thoughts. “Don’t go anywhere. I wasn’t laughing at you.”

  “Of course not,” she said, but the skepticism in her voice contradicted her words.

  “I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you in English class freshman year.”

  “Yes, that’s very funny. Reminiscing about your misplaced crush on a drunken slut who had to leave school because she got pregnant should always inspire a chuckle.”

  “Let’s take a water break,” the instructor said from the front of the room.

  Rey tugged against his arm, but instead of releasing her, Miles pulled her closer. Close enough for him to enjoy the smell of coconut in her hair and feel the thin silk of her tank top against his arm. “Remember, I won’t let you push me away.”

  “Fine. I was honest with you. You can be honest with me. What were you laughing about?”

  He wasn’t dumb enough to bring up Cathy now, even only as a side comment. He could be honest in spirit, if not honest in actuality. “I’m laughing about how quickly I’ve turned into a one-woman man.”

  She hmphed, but there was a smile to the noise. He kissed her hair, then kissed the tips of her ears. “No reason to be afraid of me,” he said with a nibble on the tender outside folds of her ear. “When we’re old and gray, we can toddle in each other’s arms and remember what it was like when I could twirl you.” He spun her round and she had a slight smile on her face when she was facing him again. “All you have to do is ask.”

  “What if forever is what I’m afraid of?”

  Even though she whispered the words, they rang loudly in his ears. The fear in her voice gripped his heart. The idea of forever had been scary when he’d married Cathy, but he’d been willing. “Until death do us part” was less scary with Rey somehow, but then again he’d had a crush on her since high school. For Rey, a relationship with him was brand-new.

  The class emptied of students.

  Miles didn’t have any response to Rey’s question except to drop his head and try to kiss her worries away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Thank God this week is almost over, Renia thought as she turned her key in the studio door on Thursday afternoon. Technically, her week wasn’t almost over. She still had Friday to get through, and the Taste-of-Poland Polish businesswomen’s booth to staff on Saturday, but she was nearly at the week’s symbolic end. And Monday was Labor Day, so the studio was closed and she had an actual two-day weekend.

  Nothing about the week had been particularly bad, but nothing had been good, either.

  She’d kissed Miles goodbye on Tuesday morning after sharing toast and black coffee, then not seen him since. “Working on a big proposal” was his response to her text after she’d even gone to the trouble to get milk from the store so she’d have something to put in her coffee for mornings-after, when her first cup wasn’t from a coffee shop.

  Milk in her fridge wasn’t clearing out a drawer for him to use, but it was a symbolic leap just the same.

  There had been no word from Ashley. Almost two full weeks since Renia had posted a letter to her daughter and no response. The letter was supposed to be the last try. Anything more and she was forcing her attentions on a girl who might not want them. Besides, who was she to comment? Renia still hadn’t had the promised conversation with her mother. It might take Ashley another eighteen years to risk calling her again.

  And with Miles working day and night on a proposal, he wasn’t around for her to lean on. But she hadn’t spent the week beating herself up about Ashley’s non-call, even without him there, so maybe she was beginning to forgive herself.

  Miles’s proposal was due Friday at five, but he and his partners hoped to have it ready twenty-four hours earlier. He’d said that this way they’d get a mental break and be able to look at it fresh before sending it off. He had promised to be over with dinner later that night after an apparently much-needed shower and phone call to Sarah.

  She stopped into the corner store for something besides water and diet pop for Miles to drink. The cooler of iced teas and coffees was next to the many coolers of beer. He’d probably prefer beer to iced tea, but she wasn’t quite up to having alcohol in the house.

  How would he feel if forever didn’t include beer and wine? She shoved the bottles of iced tea and coffee into her basket before she could think too hard on that question.

  Forever still made her breath catch and heart stop, but not in a good way—closer to gagging than to anything romantic.

  No, she considered, as she stood in line behind an old couple holding hands, one with root beer, the other with vanilla ice cream. Forever wasn’t what made her want to gag. If forever was making root beer floats on a Thursday night, she would find a priest and head down the aisle with Miles tomorrow.

  What made her gag was her paranoid notion that she might be dumped because she didn’t want beer in the house. She’d get her heart all hopeful and then one mistake and poof, he’d be gone. All because she didn’t want beer in the house. Or because Ashley never managed to forgive her. Or... There were so many reasons he could leave her.

  “Are you ready?” The clerk at the counter looked like he’d been calling at her for a while.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She unloaded the bottles from her basket to the counter and paid. Her phone rang just before she walked out the door.

  It was Miles. “Hello.”

  “Rey, I can’t make dinner tonight. The proposal’s not even close to being done. I kept hoping, but...”

  “At least I didn’t buy beer.”

  “Why would you buy beer? You don’t drink.”

 
; “For...” She had to scoot out of the way so a group of teenagers could leave. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  “If I want a beer, I’ll get a beer. You don’t need to buy it for me.”

  Solved that dilemma. So, what other mistake was waiting to happen that would cause him to abandon her? She shook her head and walked out of the store, although her melodramatic and self-defeating thoughts followed her. Nothing about her relationship with Miles suggested he would drop her over something stupid. If she did get attached and he dumped her ass, it would be over something big and reasonable. His even-keeled, reasonable nature was one of his best qualities.

  “Well, I hope you like iced coffee, ’cause that’s what I bought instead. Mocha, latte and I don’t know what other kinds.”

  “That’ll be fine. Save it for me later. I’d say Friday, but I don’t think I’ll get any sleep tonight and I’ll probably crash as soon as we hit the Send button tomorrow.”

  “Just do good work.”

  “Right now I have to settle for work, good or otherwise, but I appreciate the sentiment. Have a good night, Rey.”

  She didn’t put her phone back into her purse until she heard the click, then she walked home with a grocery bag full of iced coffee she didn’t want and a prayer there was food in her freezer to eat.

  * * *

  RENIA WOKE UP to a text from Miles.

  Will hve break around brkfast. Meet for bagels? Txt back time.

  The text had been sent at two in the morning. Hopefully, he’d gotten some sleep since then. She texted him back a time.

  Gves me time for nap. See you then.

  Or maybe he hadn’t slept. Poor Miles. She’d be extra nice to him when she saw him next. Today, she’d just be really glad to see him.

  * * *

  “YOU LOOK like hell,” Rey said when Miles sat at her table, but she was smiling and her eyes were bright, so he knew she was happy to see him. He was definitely happy to see her.