Star Promise (24 page)

Dad wasn’t overly outraged. “People embellish their credentials all the time,” he said. “Especially in this profession.”

“She’s a ballet teacher, Dad. Who’s she trying to impress?”

He smiled, but avoided my question. “Have you told Charli?”

“No, not yet.”

It might’ve been his calm demeanour, or perhaps I’d completely lost my mind since walking into the room. They were the only two explanations for what came next. I asked my father what he thought I should do, then dropped my head so I wouldn’t have to watch him keel over in shock.

“Divorce your wife and move on,” he replied. “All your troubles will disappear.”

I glowered at him, but the effort was wasted. He was grinning.

“Not funny.”

“Oh, come now, Adam,” he replied, walking to the window. “It was both witty and comical.”

He stood at the window a long time, staring at the skyline. At first I thought he was stalling, but soon realised he was using the time to ponder my question.

“Charli’s not a weak girl, Adam,” he said finally. “She faces her adversaries head on. I greatly admire her for that.” He kept his back to me, probably because it was a hard admission to make. “Chances are, she doesn’t need you to do anything.”

“So you think I should just keep what I know to myself?”

He slowly turned. “I think if this woman’s intentions are less than honourable, Charli will work it out,” he suggested. “If you try and rush the process, it may not end favourably for you.”

As hard as it was to accept, he was right. Pushing Charli to cut her mother from her life would never work, especially with bullying tactics like digging up dirt. I’d end up coming out of it looking shadier than Olivia. The only option I had was to take a back seat and wait for the wretched woman to come unstuck by herself.

Bridget had been asleep for hours by the time I got home. Charli was in bed too, but still awake. She sat up as I walked in.

“Hi.”

I leaned down and kissed her. “Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I got something at the office.”

“Bridget helped cook tonight,” said Charli. “There’s some funky-looking pasta in the fridge if you’re interested.”

I smiled. “Pass, thank you,” I replied, dragging off my tie.

“It’ll still be there in the morning,” she pointed out. “She’ll make you try it for breakfast.”

I dropped my cufflinks into the glass dish on the dresser and turned back to face her. “I’m out early. A meeting at eight.”

Charli groaned, a hint that the conversation was about to take an unpleasant turn. “It’s Bridget’s first ballet lesson tomorrow,” she reminded me. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Why?” I asked thoughtlessly. “Do you need backup?”

Her face dropped. “That was unkind.”

“It was,” I agreed, feeling a total jerk. “I’m sorry.”

Charli shuffled across the bed. I didn’t move. “Please ditch your meeting.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my job, Charlotte.”

“Get a new job, Adam.” If looks could kill, I would’ve been dead.

I grinned at her. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.”

Lightening the conversation was the best I could do. Charli was very tolerant when it came to the outrageously long hours I worked, but occasionally she needed to vent. It was always in my best interest to shut up and let her do it.

“You’re on the wrong path, Adam,” she muttered.

I wanted to tell her we both were lately, but I didn’t. I defended my choice of career as if I believed in it. “As long as we’re in New York, this is my path,” I told her. “It’s what I do.”

“But why?” she asked. “You hate it. I know you do.”

I unbuttoned my shirt while I pondered her question. “I studied for years to do this. It seems like less of a waste of time if I actually make use of my degree.”

Her ire slipped as curiosity set in. “Why do you hate it so much?”

I almost laughed. I’d spent three years tearing up boats for a living. Entire days were spent hanging out on the beach with our kid. Going from that to wearing a suit and working horrendous hours in an office was never going to be a good transition.

“It’s not my bliss,” I said simply.

“Quit.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Take on the renovations at the club. You’d be perfect for the job.”

I screwed up my shirt and threw it at the chair. “Maybe.”

She groaned. “Why won’t you just do it?”

I wasn’t ready to give her the truthful answer. A change in vocation wasn’t going to fix things. A change in scenery was what I was hoping for, and now that Olivia was on the scene, the urge to grab my family and run was at an all-time high.

“Did you pick up the dry-cleaning?” I asked, changing the subject. She shook her head. “I need it, Charli. I told you this morning that I needed it.”

“And I told you I’d pick it up,” she replied.

I was confused. “So you did pick it up?”

“No.” She grinned. “I forgot.”

“Perfect,” I muttered.

“You have ten million shirts in there.” She flapped her hand at the closet. “Find one.”

I angrily swept the hangers across the rail. “I don’t need this at midnight. Seriously.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “You know what you need?”

“No, tell me.”

“A distraction.”

I turned back to her. She’d managed to get undressed in three seconds flat. I was impressed – and successfully distracted.

“How did you do that so fast?”

Her smile was the best kind of wicked. “Ever tried getting into a wetsuit while naked on a public beach?”

“No, but I’m assuming you have.”

“Once or twice.”

I grinned. “You’re dangerous, Charlotte.”

“Are you still thinking about the dry-cleaning, Adam?”

Our room wasn’t exactly large. Three steps were all it took before she was pinned beneath me on the bed. I answered her by kissing the wry smile off her face.

My next move was quickly halted by a little voice behind me.

“Hi Daddy.”

Charli made a grab for the bedding. I made a dash for the little girl in the doorway.

“Hi, baby.” I scooped her off the floor and kissed her. “It’s really late. I’ll take you back to bed,” I offered.

“I’m not tired.”

She didn’t sound tired either. I glanced back at Charli, who was pretending to be asleep. I tried using it to my advantage. “Look, Mom’s asleep.”

Bridget leaned forward for a closer look. “No she’s not,” she told me. “She’s still breathing.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it of Bridget logic. “It’s bed time.”

The kid didn’t skip a beat. “We can make a deal, Daddy,” she said sweetly. Clearly she’d been spending too much time with Ryan. I was never going to win now. “What did you have in mind?”

She pointed at my nightstand. “I could look in there for something.”

That was the moment Charli’s sleeping act fell apart. She laughed, gaining the instant attention of the junior negotiator in my arms. “Hi, Mummy.”

“Hi, Bridge,” she replied, still giggling.

I lowered Bridget to her feet and she headed for the nightstand. I let her rummage around for half a minute before ordering her to make a decision. She pulled out a packet of mints.

“I really love these,” she declared, waving them at me.

“That’s great, but you’re not having them.”

“You won’t like them,” warned Charli. “They’re hot.”

Bridget dropped them back in the drawer and tried again. “How about these?” she asked.

No matter how eager I was to get her out of the room, sending her back to bed with a handful of coins wasn’t going to happen. “No money.”

“I really love money, Daddy.”

“Give her paper money.” Charli’s suggestion was hardly going to win us any parenting awards, but I was beyond arguing. I puffed out a long breath of frustration and pulled my wallet out. “All I have is a fifty.”

“I love fifties,” beamed Bridget.

“Just do it, Adam,” ordered Charli.

I reluctantly handed the bill to my daughter. “You’re an extortionist,” I told her. “
Fait accompli
, okay?”

She nodded as if she had a half a clue what I meant. “Tuck me in, please,” she demanded. “And Mum too.”

I scooped her up. “I’ve been trying to tuck your mama up for half an hour.”

“Bye Mum,” Bridget called over my shoulder.

“Good night, Bridge,” she replied, giggling again.

I turned back to Charli as we got to the door. “Don’t you dare fall asleep before I get back,” I warned.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Fifty bucks buys the whole night.”

Despite the peak hour traffic, the cab ride downtown didn’t take as long as expected. We arrived at the studio fifteen minutes early.

I breathed a sigh of relief to find the front door unlocked. Bridget probably would’ve smashed her way in if she’d been denied entry. She pointed to a doorway on her left. “I can dance in that room,” she informed me. “But I have to use walking feet in here.”

I smiled at her. “I’m glad you listened to the rules, Bridge.”

“Me too,” she crowed. “I have lovely ears.”

The girl behind the desk introduced herself. “I’m Erin, the dance co-ordinator.”

I wondered what that meant, but didn’t embarrass myself by asking. I tried introducing Bridget, but she cut me off to explain that they’d already met. “You can go through.” She pointed to the same doorway Bridget had. “Olivia is expecting you.”

I hadn’t seen Olivia in ballerina mode before. Not only did she look different with her long dark hair pulled back into a tight chignon, she walked differently.

She practically floated across the floor to greet us. I glanced at my little girl doing her monkey dance and thumping her feet on the floor, and wondered how both of us could’ve missed the elegance gene.

“I’m thrilled you made it,” she beamed.

“Dancing feet in here!” squealed Bridget.

Olivia put her finger to her lips. “Shush,” she murmured. “Quiet voice in here.”

Bridget nodded. I doubted the silence would hold for long.

“You need to take your boots off and put your ballet slippers on,” instructed Olivia.

I’d smuggled the demon slippers into the lesson in my handbag, not confident that she’d entertain the idea of wearing them.

“No thank you,” said Bridget. “I’m wearing boots.”

At least she’d been polite about it.

“Charli.” Olivia dragged her gaze from Bridget to frown at me. “Can I speak to you in private, please?”

I wanted to say no, but Bridget dropped her my hand and took off. With her busy making faces in front of the mirror, I had no choice but to hear her out.

Olivia’s standards were high, which Ella had warned us about. Galoshes weren’t going to cut it. Her bottom line was clear and simple. The boots went or Bridget did.

“It’s for her own good,” she said gently.

My eyes drifted to my daughter. “She’s worn boots every day since she learned to walk.”

“How bizarre,” she replied.

I tried not to glower when I looked at her. “It’s not bizarre. It’s just Bridget,” I explained. “It’s just a quirk.”

The look on Olivia’s face was on of pure pity. “You know, Alex’s mother had funny habits. At first I used to think she was just quirky, but it was more than that.” She glanced back at Bridget. “She was barmy. Utterly mad.”

“She was also a drunk,” I snapped.

Olivia gave me a tight smile. “If she wants to dance, the boots must go,” she insisted. “Why don’t you let me have a word with her? Maybe I can convince her?”

All I ever wanted was to do right by my daughter, but it was much easier in theory than practice. I wanted to encourage her individuality, but protect her from being considered weird because of it. I didn’t know how to win.

“I’m not sure she’s ready,” I mumbled.

“You’re not ready,” she corrected. “You coddle her too much.”

I could feel the tension spreading across my chest. What would Olivia know about coddling a child? The notion was laughable, but she seemed to miss the irony.

“Adam handles Bridget differently, you know,” she told me. “But I suppose that’s to be expected. They’re closer, aren’t they?”

Bridget had been Daddy’s girl since the day she was born. To me, it seemed like a natural choice. Adam had it all together. I still had days when I felt like a scattered mess. I couldn’t even make the call as to whether I should enforce the no-boots rule. But it hurt to have it brought to my attention.

“They are close,” I conceded. “I like it that way.”

Olivia smiled again, but it was still wrong. “Pull yourself together, Charli. She won’t move forward without encouragement.”

She was pushing me to consent to something that my heart was fighting against, and when the other little dancers filed into the room, the pressure intensified. She wasn’t going to bend the rules and let her dance with boots on. Against my better judgement, I told her to go ahead and have a crack at changing Bridget’s mind.

Olivia looked smug, like she’d just stolen something from me. Perhaps she had and I just hadn’t realised it yet. “She’ll be fine, Charli.”

As in Ella’s class, the parents didn’t hang around. I couldn’t have left if I’d wanted to. I wasn’t ready to leave my little girl in a group she wasn’t familiar with, but Bridget wasn’t showing any hint of feeling the same way. I stood at the back of the class, silently willing her to turn around and look for me, like she did with her dad. When she didn’t, I tried not to feel hurt by it.

“Okay, class,” announced Olivia clapping her hands together. “I have something to share.”

This group was completely different to Ella’s motley crew. Each of the five girls in the class stood in front of her as if they were standing to attention. Even Bridget followed protocol.

Olivia slipped out of view, returning a minute later with a beautiful ballet costume in hand. The sparkly sage green getup floated behind her as she trailed the coat hanger through the air and hung it on the mirror in front of her.

She turned back to face her class, shushing the excited little squeaks that escaped them. “We have a concert coming up soon,” she announced. “Everyone will be wearing one of these costumes.”