Take Two (30 page)

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do with this stupid dress. I keep trying it on, remembering the day I put it on. That was supposed to be the last day I had to, you know? I was supposed to…I don’t cry every time. I’m just having a really
bad day.”

“You look beautiful in the dress.”

“You
think so? It was custom made.
It took V
era Wang six months to get the beading on the corset done.
”

“Yes,”
I hugged her tightly. “
You want to tell me about your day?”

She shook her
head
and continued sobbing. “No…”

“No?”

She shook her head and looked away.

I pick
ed her up and carried her to the
bedroom. I gently laid her across the
bed and slowly unzipped the back of her dress.

She wriggled
out of it and I draped it
across a chair. I climbed in bed
behind her
and wrapped her in my arms. She didn’t say a word.

“
What happened today
?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Take your time,
”
I tightened my arms around her.

She sniffled.
“I was late to work
and everything went downhill from there…
My assistant called in sick. I forgot to switch wall
ets so I had to beg Jen to bring
me lunch and—”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve had some brought to you.”

She rolled over. “I didn’t want to bother you at your book signing.”

“
D
on’t worry about
me
next time
,” I kissed her cheek. “
What else happened?”

“I forgot my umbrella so I got rained on when I got off work. When I finally got home, I reali
zed I
left my keys
in my office
. So
once again, Jen had to c
ome help me out since she has
the spare key
. And then…Never mind.”

“Go on.”

“This guy I’m dating
—
”

“What about him?”

“He didn’t call or text me all day today.”

“He sou
nds like the worst,” I pulled her
on top of me.

“He really is.”

“Wake up,” I
caressed her face.

“Huh? What do you want?” she groaned.

“You’re definitely not a morning person.”

“You woke me up to tell me that?”

“No,” I hit the light. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Now? What time is it?”

“Yes. Now. It’
s three o’ clock
. I’m going to
get my car okay? I’
m going to call you when I’
m outside and I need you to be ready to jump in the car.”

“The paparazzi saw you come here
yesterday
?”

“No,” I pulled her arms
forward
, forcing her to sit up. “And I want to keep it that way. That’s why we’re leaving early.”

“Let’s
just
stay in bed, Matt.”

I kissed her lips.
“Get ready
. You’ve got about eight minutes.”

I left her apartment with my shades and hat on, looking down at the ground, not taking any chances of a night walking stranger recognizing me. I located where Joan had parked my black BMW and revved up the engine. I drove around the block five times, giving Melody ample ti
me to get dressed.

I called her once I was in front of her building again. “I
’
m outside. Come on out.”

She w
alked down the steps wearing a silk
slip and a pair of
jeans. She climbed into my car
and after buckling her s
eat belt, she crossed her arms.

“Something wrong?” I sped off.

“It’s three in the morning and I’m not in bed.”

“But you’re with me. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Shut up Matt,” she sighed. “It’s
still
too early.”

“I know,” I put my hand on her thigh.

I spe
d through the empty city
, running a couple of red lights, going the wrong way down a few one way streets.

“We’re here,” I parked the car. “This is my dance school.”

“What?
What was so important that we had to come here
now
?
Why are we—”

“I leaned over and kissed her t
o
get her to be quiet. She wasn’t completely coherent yet and I didn’t want to argue.

I walked over to her side of the car and opened the door.

“Come on
,” I took her hand and nearly dragged her into the school’s basement
and up the auditorium’s stairs
. I typed in the pass-code to my personal seating box
,
and
picked her up and
placed her in one of the chairs.

“You awake?” I sat n
ext to her.

“
What are we doing here?”

“My summer students are having a bunch of recitals next
month
. They always sneak into the auditorium on weekends to practice. I wanted
us
to watch a few pieces together.”

“They sneak i
n? You’
re not upset about that?”

“Not at all. I’
m glad they’re taking advantage of the space. I used to do the same thing at my high school.”

“Will they be able to see us?”

“No. They can’t
see through the
private box
es
.”

“Okay,” she
moved
the armrest that was between us and laid her head on my chest.

Minutes later, the stage began to glow—first yellow, then r
ed, then purple. A spotlight shifte
d to center stage and a ballerina held fourth position
until the music began to play.

The
piano rif
f
s of John Mayer’s “Dreaming with a Broken Heart” filled the auditorium, and the ballerina gracefully danced around the boundaries of the spotlight, leaping across it, twisting and twirling her body to the notes. Her form and control were excellent.

When she was done, several of her
classmates cheered from below:
“Go Ashley!” “Yeah!” “Good job!”

“That was so pretty,” Melody whispered. “She did such a great job.”

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Liar,” I held her close. “Do you want to watch a few more?”

She didn’t answer. The lights had begun to change again.

We sat and watched six more dances—three ballet routines, two hip-hop
interpretations
, and
one contemporary group dance. We
only had an hour before I needed to reclaim my parking spot so I stood up and reached for her hand.

“We’re leaving?” she looked sad.

“I want to show you something
else
.”

I hit the lights and locked the door. “This is my private dance studio.”

“It’s
very
nice,” she yawned.

“It
’s more than nice. This is
state of the art. Wait ‘til you feel how smooth the floor is under your feet. The way the music bounces off the walls is
remarkable
.”

“You brought me down here to dance?”

Something like that…

I walked over to the sound system and scrolled down the computer’s screen. “Which song was it?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“When we were in St. Bart’s you said you knew all the moves to a song in
Dirty Dancing
. Which song was it?”

She looked surprised. She lowered her gaze to the
floor and sighed,
“Time of My Life.”

“I thought so,” I found the song and hit play. “Do you
still
remember the steps?”

“Maybe…”

“Let’s find out,” I grabbed her waist and the song began.

“Now, I’ve had the time of my life…”

She turned away from me and slowly moved her hand down my neck.

“And I owe it all to you…”

She twisted out of my embrace
, tapping her feet against the floor,
and twirled back into my arms, matching me step for step.

“Now with passion in our eyes, there’s no way we could disguise it secretly…”

She smiled at me as she tossed her head back and gracefully lifted her leg. I couldn’t believe how good of a dancer she was.

“You’re the one thing I can’t get enough of…So I’ll tell you something
,
this could be love because—”

I stopped dancing and kissed her,
pulling her down to the floor,
rolling
her on top
of me
.

She seemed to be more alert now. She was running her fingers through my hair and pressing herself against me.

I slid
her slip over her head and she gasped. “Here? What if someone sees us? What if—”

“I’m the only one with a key.”

I
cooked breakfast when we returned to her apartment: Crepes, oatmeal, hand-squeezed orange juice, and ham slices.

The rest of the day
went by in a blur.
In between making love
, unpacking her boxes,
and watching movies, we sat on
her balcony and talked
.

It was those types of moments when I truly envied non-celebrities. They could sit on their balcony without hoping that a photographer wasn’t hiding in the bushes below. They could walk down the street without second guessing their outfit. They could spend all day inside because they wanted to, not because they had to.

“What are you thinking about?” Melody rubbed my arm.

“You.
Do you have plans
for tomorrow
?”

“I was supposed to do some reading, but I can catch up on that Monday. I have to
visit your wedding venue
a
t
five
though
,
”
she looked down at her hands.

“Why
?”

“I
am
writing about your wedding remember? My boss wants me to get familiar with the space beforehand.”

“Mind if I stay tonight
?
I could go with you.”

Let me stay…

“I don’t mind
.
”

“Great,” I pulled out my phone. “Hey Joan? I’m staying at Miss Carter’s until tomorrow. Could you
have the driver pick us up tomorrow around four? We’ll need to
go to the
wedding
venue
…Okay, thanks.
Now
,
where were we?”

“Talking about your wedding?” she sounded disappointed.

“No, I think we were going back to your bedroom.”

Melody

I slid my fingertips across the railing and look
ed out over the Hudson River.

Every minute
I
spent with Matt
had been amazing,
but
coming with
him to the lighthouse
only confirmed my worst thoughts: he could never
really
be mine.

As the tour guide walked
the two of
us through
th
e venue, he acted as if he hardl
y knew me, as if I was just some repo
rter tagging along to ask him questions about the
wedding
.

He barely
even
looked at me.

“Is there anything else you need to see Miss Carter?”
the tour guide
looked expectantly.