“Thank you, Miss Charlotte.” The little girl flung her arms around Charlotte’s waist and squeezed her so hard she thought she might explode.
Charlotte clung to Amelia, feeling the grief, the pain, the sorrow seep out of the little girl by way of that hug.
“I know your mom is so proud of you,” Charlotte whispered as Amelia drew back.
The little girl opened her hand to reveal a small, folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
Amelia shrugged. “My dad told me to give it to you.”
“Amelia, come on!” one of the other girls shouted. “My mom is taking us for ice cream.”
“I love you, Miss Charlotte.”
She ran off, leaving Charlotte standing under the dim lights of the stage. The words were like a cozy pair of pajamas on a cold and rainy day. Two people loved her. Two people she loved back. How had she gotten so lucky?
She opened the small piece of paper and saw the words scrawled on it.
It’s yours. Make her proud.
Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes. The studio was hers. She could stay. She and Cole could have a real shot at a real life and who knew? Maybe she would be loved until the day she died.
“Are you done with this charade now?”
She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t realized someone had come up beside her. She turned and found her mother, all hard angles and coldness, glaring at her.
“What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked.
“You wouldn’t respond to my calls or my texts, so I figured I’d drive up here and talk some sense into you.”
Charlotte started off the stage, aware that Marcia followed. “I have to go, I’m meeting someone.”
“If you mean that good-looking football coach, he left.”
Charlotte spun on her heel and faced her mother. “What did you do?”
“I never should’ve let you go to that funeral,” Marcia said. “I should’ve known it would bring everything back up again. How many times did I tell you to let it go? You did what you had to do.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlotte said. “What did you say to Cole?”
Marcia shrugged. “I told him the truth. That you didn’t belong here anymore than he belongs in your world.”
“That’s not your call.” Heat rushed to her face.
“And, of course, we had a conversation about how much you really owe to Julianna.”
Panic washed over her. “You didn’t.”
She waved her hand, feigning innocence. “Of course, I thought you would’ve told him. The two of you looked pretty close when you were dancing up here.”
Charlotte’s mind spun. This couldn’t be happening. This was not how he was supposed to find out.
“I spoke with Martin,” Marcia went on. “Now that you’ve gotten this out of your system, it’s time to get back to reality.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Charlotte drew in a taut breath, as if that would calm her nerves.
“I’ve saved you from making a giant mistake,” Marcia said. “From throwing everything away. Let’s not forget what Julianna gave up so you could have this dream.”
Charlotte was so angry, the only thing she could do was walk away.
But Marcia followed her. “So, you’ll be back on Monday. You’ll have to rehearse for a few weeks before they let you perform. Looks like you might’ve put on a few pounds during this little sabbatical, so we’ll hit the gym right away.”
“It’s not a sabbatical.” She smoothed her hair back and drew in a breath. “This is my life. I’m staying. I’m buying Julianna’s dance studio, and I’m staying. That man is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Marcia inched back and studied Charlotte a little too intently. “You can’t be serious. You and the high school football coach? In what world is there a happy ending for the two of you? Especially now that he knows what kind of person you really are?”
“No, Mother, what kind of person I was. Before Julianna showed me what sacrifice looks like. Some people learn that from their mothers, but I learned it from her.”
“Fine, but you’d still be an idiot to waste everything you’ve accomplished,” Marcia said. “If you stop dancing, what do you have left? You’re nothing without the ballet.”
The words hung between them, confirming every fear Charlotte kept bottled up, every motivation for living the way she did.
And she thought about what Hildy had said. Real love didn’t have strings. She might not have earned it, but she’d found it just the same.
She’d found it in Cole, in her friends, in Hildy, in Amelia.
But she’d never found that in her mother.
“If I give up dance, I’ll just be Charlotte,” she said. “And I would hope that that would be enough for you.”
Her mother started to say something, but Charlotte held up a hand to silence her. “I’m done living the life you want me to live.”
Charlotte walked away, toward the stage door, and didn’t turn to look back. Not even when her mother called out, “I’ll tell Martin to expect you on Monday morning.”
It was pointless to try and make her understand.
After all, Marcia didn’t know her at all.
49
Cole yanked the tie loose and raced to his truck. He got in and drove around, replaying the events of the night over and over in his mind.
How could his feelings change so swiftly? Only an hour ago, he’d been so smitten with Charlotte he couldn’t have imagined a day without her in his life.
Now he wondered if he knew her at all.
What kind of person would sabotage someone else? Was that how she’d gotten to the top? By stepping on anyone who got in her way?
It sickened him to think that Julianna had taken the fall for Charlotte’s wrongdoing, that Charlotte had let her. Worse, Charlotte showed up here, invading Julianna’s world—as if she could step in where his sister had left off.
He parked the truck, got out, and walked toward the one place he might find a bit of peace. But when he neared Julianna’s grave, he discovered he wasn’t alone.
A nearby streetlamp illuminated Connor’s silhouette sitting on the ground beside her headstone.
So this was where he’d gone when he rushed off after his dance with Amelia.
Cole took a step toward his brother-in-law, and a twig cracked underneath his foot, drawing Connor’s attention.
Cole froze. “Hey, man,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” Connor asked.
“What are you doing here?”
Connor lifted a bottle of beer. “Drinking.”
Cole frowned. “You don’t even drink.”
His brother-in-law held up the six-pack. “Want one?”
“I don’t drink either.”
“But maybe we should,” Connor said. “Maybe it’ll help us forget.”
Cole sat down next to him in the grass. “Do you really want to forget?”
Connor shrugged. “It’d be easier, right?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But life isn’t supposed to be easy.”