Three Months Later
~Meredith~
“Madison, not to be confused with Madeline, so we do not say Maddie, forgot her shoes at home,” Jax says in a hurry as he bustles past me back stage. “So her mom is making a mad dash home to fetch them.”
“It’s fine, we have like thirty minutes,” I say and prop my hands on my hips to survey the area. Little girls are admiring themselves in the mirrors, in their pretty dance tutus and makeup. “I can’t believe we gave in to the tutus,” I mutter.
“The moms like to see them in frilly dance clothes.” Jax shrugs and then laughs when a little girl, while watching herself in the mirror, makes a complete turn, transfixed by the sight before her. “And the girls like it too.”
I nod and then squat to help another girl with her shoes.
Before long, the excitement backstage is mounting. The girls are excited to show their mom and dads what they’ve learned. Or just show off onstage. We have girls of all ages dancing today.
“Ten minutes!” Jax calls out and the little girls all clap excitedly. “Hey, isn’t that your Mr. Hot Tamale in the audience?”
I frown and glance out from the curtain and survey the audience. Sure enough, right there in the front row, is Mark with Luke and his family.
What are they doing here?
I glance back at Jax with what I’m sure is panic written all over my face. He laughs and pats my shoulder. “Go say hi.”
“Oh God.” I clutch my stomach and inwardly cringe when I think of the way I threw myself at him at Mom’s funeral. I don’t know what came over me. I saw him, and it was as if no time had passed at all and I just knew in that moment that he was the only one who could comfort me.
And then I realized what I’d done, and when I pulled away he was aloof and someone I didn’t know.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
I bite my lip and decide what the hell? “I’ll be right back.”
“No hurry, we’re ready back here.” Jax winks and turns his attention to a mom asking about adult classes.
I walk out from backstage and approach Mark and Luke.
“Hi, guys,” I say with a bright smile. “What brings you here?”
It’s then I notice the stunning blonde sitting to Mark’s right, and the baby girl she’s holding.
Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he’s married with a kid?
And that is the sound of my heart shattering and lying on the ground.
“Hi, Meredith,” Luke replies with a smile. Mark’s head jerks around as he takes the baby from his wife.
“What are you all doing here?”
“We’re here to watch,” Luke says and balances a toddler on his knee. “This is my wife, Natalie, and our children, Olivia,” he points to the little girl on his lap and then to the sleeping baby nestled in his wife’s arms, “and Keaton.”
I smile and shake Natalie’s hand and then turn my attention to Mark.
“I see congratulations are in order for you too, Mark.”
He frowns for just a moment and then seems to remember that he’s holding the infant. “Oh! This is Stella,” he kisses her head and my chest aches. Oh God, he looks amazing with a baby in his arms. But it’s not our baby.
Do not cry. Do not freak out. You can get through this. Keep smiling.
“She’s beautiful,” I choke out in the worst monotone voice I’ve ever heard. He’s watching me carefully and the woman beside him is typing furiously on her phone, then looks up at me and smiles.
“Hi! I’m Jules. Sorry, I was just texting my husband. He’s worried about Stella. He always worries.” She laughs and tucks her phone in the Louis Vuitton sitting at her feet. “It’s really very cute.”
“Not your baby, then,” I say to Mark and am mortified to hear the relief in my voice.
“No, Nate might have issues if I had children with Mark.” Jules laughs and nudges him with her shoulder. “Mark might not survive Nate’s wrath if that happened.”
“I would be a dead man,” Mark agrees with a laugh.
He kisses Stella’s head again with that naughty smile on his lips that I’ve always loved. He looks delicious in a red T-shirt and worn jeans.
“Maddie, Josie and Sophie are my nieces,” Jules continues and takes Stella back from Mark. “This is our family.”
My eyes follow her gesture and then I feel them just about bug out of my head when about twenty people wave at me, including Brynna and Stacy, whose daughters are in my class.
“You brought the whole family to a dance recital?” I ask in surprise.
“Maddie and Josie pretty much guilt-tripped us all into coming,” Mark replies. “Apparently, they’ll be heartbroken if everyone isn’t here.”
“Extortionists,” Caleb mutters.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Meredith Summers. I own this studio. Thanks for coming! I hope you enjoy the show.”
I turn to leave and am just inside the curtain to backstage when a strong hand grips my arm and spins me around and I’m looking at a very sexy Mark Williams.
“Did you need something?” I ask as calmly as possible. His lips twitch, and I know I’m not fooling him.
“I don’t have a wife and kid, Mer.”
I shrug a shoulder and gaze blindly around, avoiding his face. “Okay. It’s really none of my business.”
“No, it’s not,” he agrees softly. “How are you, M?”
I bite my lip and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m fine. A little busy right now. I’m sorry that I flung myself at you at Mom’s funeral, I was just really emotional and—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupts and shakes his head. God, he grew up nice. He’s filled out, his shoulders are broad and strong and his biceps strain against the sleeves of his T. He’s grown a couple of inches. His hair is a little longer than he used to wear it, just a little shaggy, like he hasn’t had a haircut in a while.
“Well, enjoy the show.” I turn to leave but he stops me again with his hand on my arm.
“How’s Mr. Wonderful?” he asks abruptly. I scowl up at him.
“Who?”
“Hey, we go on in five, snowball,” Jax says as he hurries past. He winks at me and smiles at Mark and hurries away.
“Him,” Mark says with a cringe, and it occurs to me that he must think that Jax is my man.
“Jax is fine. He’s my partner.” Mark nods, and if I’m not mistaken, his eyes look hurt before he blinks and offers me a small smile. “He’s my dance and business partner,” I clarify.
He tilts his head, watching me.
“He’d be more interested in you sexually than he is me.”
Mark blinks twice and when the realization of what I’m saying sinks in, a slow wide grin spreads across his handsome face.
“Can I see your phone, please?” he asks and holds his hand out expectantly. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it over to him. “You need to key in your passcode,” he says dryly. I bite my lip and grin, take the phone back to key in the four-digit code and pass it back. He taps the screen with his thumbs, concentrating with a frown between his eyes.
I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching out and smoothing my fingers over that frown.
“Are we still friends, M?” he asks, his face suddenly very serious and I’m suddenly as sad as I’ve ever been as my eyes travel over his handsome, familiar face. His deep blue eyes and square jaw. Full lips. Blond hair.
“We’re not friends, Mark,” I reply sadly. “We’re strangers with memories.”
He nods and looks down at my phone still in his grasp. He passes it back to me with a half-smile that makes my stomach and thighs clench. “Let’s see what we can do about that. My number is in there. The next step is up to you.”
He winks and turns away just as Jax pulls on my hand, catching my attention. “Come on, it’s time.”
I nod and shake my head, shaking Mark off as I stuff my phone back in my pocket and get back to business. I have twenty little girls who want t
o show off for their parents.
And apparently all of their aunts and uncles too.
“Come on, ladies! It’s time to show ’em what you’ve got! Don’t forget what Jax and I told you about breathing and focusing on me. I’ll be out in the audience, helping you remember the steps, but you won’t need me. Okay?”
They all nod with great big eyes and I smile encouragingly. This is one of my favorite parts of this job. Jax leads the girls to the stage and I take my place in the audience, standing near the stage so the little ones can see me. The music begins and camera flashes start going crazy around me as parents take photos of their little girls twirl and smile on stage, waving at their moms and dads. Sophie smiles big and says, “Hi, Daddy!”
They are so freaking adorable.
When their two songs are over, they wave and leave the stage and a few moments later the older girls replace them on the stage.
They’re so funny as they try to act more sophisticated, remembering their steps and singing along with Kelly Clarkson as she sings about being stronger.
There are loud applause and whistles when the number is over, then all of the girls come back out on stage for one more dance.
When all is said and done, the girls are bursting with excitement, so happy about how their performance went. Jax and I are given lots of hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“I love you, Miss Mer,” Maddie Montgomery says and wraps her arms around my neck. “I want to be a dancer just like you and Mr. Jax when I grow up.”
“You do?” I chuckle and hug her back hard. “I know you can make that happen, sweet girl. You are a talented young lady.”
“Really?” She braces her hands on my shoulders and gazes at me with wonder.
“Absolutely.” I nod with confidence and smile widely.
“Will you help me?”
“I would love that.”
She smiles again and runs to her daddy, Caleb, who is cradling a newborn baby against his big chest.
The man is massive, making the tiny baby look even smaller against him.
“Who is this?” I ask and point to the baby.
“This is our new baby brother,” Josie says proudly and Caleb smiles kindly down at me.
“The program was great,” Brynna says. The new mom looks fantastic.
“Thank you. When did you have him?” I pat his little diaper-covered bottom, but stay back. Babies kind of scare me.
“A month ago,” she replies and gazes lovingly at her son.
“His name is Michael,” Maddie says.
“That’s a great name,” I reply. “Congratulations, you guys.”
“Thank you,” Caleb replies and kisses his son’s head. Geez, all these hot men with babies are making me squirmy.
I turn to look for Jax and instead find Mark walking toward the exit. He’s going to leave without saying goodbye again? I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I can’t help it. But then, as if he can sense me, he turns back and smiles at me, nods and points to my pocket where my phone is, and disappears through the door.
***
“So, tell me about Mr. Hot Tamale,” Jax says and passes me the vinaigrette dressing for our salads.
“Who?”
“Don’t play coy with me. That tall drink of water you were talking with today. He was the same guy at the funeral.”
We settle in the living room, me on the couch and Jax on the floor with our grilled chicken salad and water.
“That’s Mark.”
His fork stills midway between his plate and mouth and he stares at me. “He’s that Mark?”
“The one and the same,” I reply and take a bite of salad.
“I knew I couldn’t get lucky enough for him to be gay.” He shakes his head in disgust and continues eating. Jax is a hot guy. Tall with dark hair and eyes, chiseled face and body. He’s perfect physically, even at thirty. He could have kept dancing another year or two but he chose to retire and come back to Seattle with me when Mom got sick last year.
He’s also the best friend I’ve ever had. We met my first week in New York and we’ve stuck together ever since. We’ve been through everything together: Auditions. Gigs. Lovers.
All the drama that comes with the dance world.
He’s my brother in every way that counts.
“He’s definitely not gay,” I mutter and drink half the water bottle in one guzzle.
“He’s into you,” he says and watches me closely.
“Used to be, Jax. Used to be.”
“No, he is.”
I raise my eyebrows and stare at him like he’s crazy. “He doesn’t know me anymore.”
“He’d like to get to know you again, sugarbaby.” He points his fork at me and keeps talking with a mouthful of food. “Trust me. I know what a man in lust looks like.”
“I’m sure you do, man whore.”
“That stings.”
“Only because it’s true.”
Jax laughs and shrugs. “Okay, it’s true. So, see? I know what it looks like.”
I finish my salad and set the plate aside then pull my hair up in a ponytail with my hands and lean my head back on the couch.
“Mark and I were a long time ago.” Yet when I’m standing next to him, it feels like yesterday. It feels like home.
“I saw that look of mutiny in your eyes today when you thought he had a wife and kid,” Jax says and sets his plate aside.
“It was just a gut reaction,” I insist but Jax shakes his head.
“You gave a shit about him, Mer. You still do. Just admit it.”
I blow out a long breath and hate the heaviness I feel on my chest. “I do.”
“Do you know how to contact him?”
“He gave me his number today,” I reply absently and pick at a string in the cushion of the couch. “I don’t know if I should call him. We were kids, Jax. Babies. It was forever ago.”
“So what?” He shrugs. “You’re not babies now. If you still feel something, why not call him? Get to know each other. Maybe you’ll discover that he turned into an asshole and you can put the whole thing to rest.”
“He’s not an asshole,” I reply with a laugh. “That I know for sure. Mom wouldn’t have loved an asshole.”
“Look, the way you explained it to me that time we got drunk and poured our hearts out to each other that night we both blew the Annie audition, you were the one to break his heart, not the other way around. So, if he’s willing to give it another shot, maybe you should give it a shot too.”
“Who are you? Dr. Phil?”
“I’m much better looking than Dr. Phil,” he replies. “Don’t insult me.”
“I’m busy with the studio now. Business is crazy and I’m taking on more one-on-one clients too, and you’re starting that choreography job at the university soon.” I sound like an idiot to my own ears.
“Is it the sex you’re worried about?” he asks with a smart-assy frown. “Here, I’ll help. Sex 101.”
“Stop it.” I giggle and kick out at him, missing him by a good eight feet.
“How to give a hand job.”
“Stop talking!” I am laughing hard now, loving Jax for being fun and hilarious.
“Step one: use your mouth.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh and laugh and Jax joins me, flashing that perfect, white smile.
“I’m not worried about the sex.” Not very worried.
“It’s been a while for you. I understand.”
I stick my tongue out at him and watch as he starts to laugh again.
“I’m so happy that I amuse you.”
“You do, cupcake. You really do.” He takes a deep breath and then sobers. “Call him. You could use a little excitement in your life.”
“Maybe.” I pull the throw pillow against my chest and sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about getting some new throw pillows while you’re at it. Those are hideous.”
“I told you that we could go furniture shopping whenever you want.” r />
“Okay, we’ll go this weekend then.”
I nod, then climb to my feet and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night.”
“Running with me in the morning?”
“Yeah. Wake me up.”
“Set your fucking alarm. You throw shit at me when I wake you up.”
I wave at him and walk away without answering. He’ll wake me up. He does every morning.
The shower is hot and perfect and I stay under the water a good ten minutes longer than I need to before washing my face, shaving my legs and turning the water off.
I dry my body, blow my hair dry and pull on a tank and short shorts before climbing onto my bed and tug my iPad to me to go over the schedule for the rest of the month.
My phone is mocking me. Mark’s number is right there. How many times over the past ten years did I lie in bed at night and wish with all my might that I could call him and hear his voice just once?
After two years I mustered up all of the nerve I could and dialed his number, but it had been disconnected.
And now I have his number and he encouraged me to call.
I bite my lip and lift my phone, staring at his number in my contacts. He not only punched in his number, but instead of typing in his whole name, it just says, M.
I swear I can hear my mother in my head saying, “You only live once, baby girl. Just call the boy.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I press the green send button and hold my breath as I wait for him to answer.
But he doesn’t. An automated voice comes on the line saying that the person at this number isn’t available.
I end the call rather than leave a message. My shoulders sag in disappointment, but I shrug one shoulder and set my phone aside then return my concentration on my iPad.
Less than one minute later, my phone rings.
M.
“Hello?”
“Tell me this is Meredith,” he says. He’s panting and I can’t help but wonder what he’s been doing.
Or who.
“What if I say it’s not Meredith?” I ask with a grin.
“Then I’ll be pissed that I ran away from remodeling my bathroom to call this number back. I need my shower back.”
I have a shower you can use.
I almost say it out loud but catch myself. We’re not there yet.