Why did he feel like he’d said the wrong thing?
She turned around and opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and took a drink—a long one.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said.
“Look, I don’t know anything about dancing, but I do know I have less of a chance of looking like a complete disaster if you help me.”
“I don’t know, Cole.” She closed the refrigerator and walked into the living room.
“I’ll work really hard, and I’ll do whatever you tell me.”
One of her eyebrows quirked. “Whatever I tell you?”
He nodded.
She ran her hands over her face. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re—” She shoved both hands toward him, moving them up, then down, as if to fill in the end of her sentence.
“I’m not completely uncoordinated,” he said. “I used to have some serious moves on the football field.”
“Well, you’re . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she’d thought better of whatever it was she was going to say.
“I’m what?”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she glared at him. “Not very nice.”
That was fair. He hadn’t been very nice to her. To anyone. There really was no excuse for that, though, was there? “I’m working on it.”
She stared at him for too many seconds, leaving his mind to fill in the blanks as to what she was thinking.
“Never mind,” he said. “It was probably a stupid idea. I’ll get out of your hair now.” He made it all the way to the entryway before she called out for him to stop.
He wouldn’t have—his humiliation level was sky-high by this point. But the truth was, he needed her. He owed it to Amelia. And he owed it to Jules. No matter how much he didn’t want to do it. And he very much did not want to do it.
Cole wasn’t a life of the party kind of guy. He didn’t laugh easily, especially not at himself. And after what he’d been through with his parents and then Gemma, having the undivided attention of anyone in this town was just about the last thing he wanted.
“If I do this—” She stood in front of him now, looking up at him with a look so stern he had to tell himself not to laugh at her. “You will, in fact, do exactly what I tell you to do.”
“Okay.”
“You won’t groan. You won’t be late. You won’t give me any guff.”
“Guff?”
“Guff.”
“People don’t say ‘guff.’”
“Well, I do.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “If I do this, it’s on my terms.”
“You got it, boss.”
“There’s a meeting for everyone who’ll be learning partner dances. It’s tomorrow. We’re going over some of the basics, assigning each couple a choreographer, that sort of thing. You’ll come.”
“Uh, sure,” he said, though it wasn’t a question. “Should I bring Amelia?”
“No,” Charlotte said. “We’ll fill her in later.” She stuck her hand out in his direction and he allowed himself a slight, hopefully undetectable, smile as he took it and squeezed.
Charlotte barely allowed him a three-second handshake before she pulled her hand away.
“You should go,” she said, opening the front door. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for doing this for me, Charlotte,” he said.
“I’m not doing it for you,” she said. “I’m doing it for Amelia. And for Julianna.”
Point taken.
He watched her for a long moment before stepping out onto the porch. He turned back to thank her just as she closed the door in his face.
And he wondered if this was Charlotte giving him a taste of his own sour medicine.
25
About an hour before the first rehearsal for the would-be dancers, Charlotte arrived at Julianna’s studio.
Walking in, she felt simultaneously close to Julianna and worlds away from her. Twice, she’d started letters to her old friend, just as a way to process all these changes in her life. No dance. No Marcia. No training. No pressure.
No Jules.
It required a lot of processing.
Brinley rounded the corner as Charlotte walked in. Her wide eyes seemed to plead for Charlotte’s help.
“What’s wrong?”
“Connor was supposed to be here an hour ago to pick up Amelia,” Brinley whispered. “Hildy dropped her off, but she said he was picking her up.”
She frowned. “Did she have a class?”
“She was supposed to,” Brinley said. “But she’s been sitting in the back studio refusing to do anything.”
Charlotte’s heart sank. She thought about the line of worry etched in Cole’s forehead the night before when he told her about his deal with Amelia. “Let me try?”
Brinley took a step back. “Be my guest.”
Charlotte walked down the hallway and into the studio at the back of the building. There, on the floor, leaning against the wall, sat Amelia. And now, those same big eyes that had watched her from the second-story window on her first visit to see Connor were trained on her again.
Charlotte set her bag down on the floor and smiled at Amelia.
Amelia didn’t smile back.
“Hi, Amelia.” Charlotte approached her cautiously. It seemed like one wrong move could send the girl running for the door. “Brinley said you came here today to dance.”
Still no response.
“It’s funny, I’m here to dance too.” Charlotte sat on the floor, took off her shoes, and pulled her pointe shoes from the bag.
Amelia’s eyes widened so subtly Charlotte almost missed it. But she remembered the appeal of pointe shoes when she was Amelia’s age. She wanted to learn to dance on pointe more than anything, mostly because Marcia said she wasn’t ready and she knew she was.
Amelia likely had another year or two before she was old enough, but maybe watching Charlotte would help her remember how much she loved to dance.
Charlotte walked over to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner, pulled out her phone and connected it. “I’m a little rusty, but I need the workout.” She found a classical piece that would be perfect for warming up, and she turned it on.
Amelia hugged her knees to her chest, as if to cement her position right there on the floor.
Charlotte decided not to push her. How many times did she wish she could ease in on her own terms? How many times had Marcia forced her? Charlotte didn’t want to be that kind of teacher. She wanted to be the kind of teacher she imagined Jules was. Kind. Encouraging. Fun.
Did she even know where to begin?
She moved to the barre, faced the wall, and began treading up and over her shoes, warming up her ankles. She tossed a quick glance at Amelia, who still wore a vacant expression, but who, she noticed, was watching Charlotte’s feet intently.
Charlotte continued to move through a warm-up she could do without thinking. She moved from plié, pushed up over the shoes, then straightened and came down.
She continued, then the song ended and the familiar music from Romeo and Juliet began to play.