Page 101 of Reclaim Me

“No,” Rae says, looking past me to Aaron. “Hunter was just leaving.”

38

RAE

Now

“Those flowers Hunter brought you are gorgeous,” Dee says, smiling at me over the rim of her champagne glass.

The opening for En Pointe is over, and despite the emotional storm cloud that’s been hanging over my head since this afternoon, everything went incredibly well. It helps that Dee has been by my side for the entire week, helping me with whatever I needed to make things go smoothly and, now, reminding me to pause and celebrate an achievement that wouldn’t have been possible without her or the man I’ve been trying not to think about that she just brought up.

My mind goes to the red orchids sitting on my desk. Their deep red hue a perfect match for the color I decided at the last minute to intersperse throughout my branding and space. I don’t know how Hunter knew that my office was the only place in the building without a pop of red somewhere. And I don’t know how to feel about the fact that he fixed it with such a simple, romantic gesture.

“Yeah, they’re nice,” I say, finally responding to Dee. She rolls her eyes at my nonchalance.

“Did you read the card?”

“Yes, Deanna, I read the card.”

And when I was done crying over it, I put it in the back of a drawer in my desk so Aaron wouldn’t see it. So he wouldn’t tell me I should throw it away. So I wouldn’t have to explain to him why I can’t.

“It was sweet, right?”

I narrow my eyes at her and take a sip of my champagne. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m not getting at anything. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re acting so weird when it comes to Hunter. You barely look at the man and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve stopped talking about him altogether. Just a few weeks ago, everything was Hunter this and Hunter that.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Dee pins me with a hard stare. “Yes, it was. I felt like I’d been transported back to our college days where you spent all of your time talking about how in love you were with him.” My lips part to deny her claim, but she silences me with one hand. “Don’t you dare lie and say you didn’t. I have the text messages and cryptic Facebook statuses to prove it.”

That makes me crack up, and Dee joins in on the laughter, giving me a reprieve from her inquisition. It doesn’t last long, though. Eventually, she turns serious again, eyeing me with concern and curiosity.

“Seriously, though, what changed between you guys? I thought y’all were doing good, and now you’re being all cold with him, and he’s looking all desperate and remorseful like he fucked up somehow.” She pauses, her eyes going wide. “He didn’t relapse again did he?”

“No!” I answer quickly, shaking my head for emphasis. “He didn’t relapse. He’s still clean.”

“Okay, good.” Dee places a relieved hand on her chest. “Then what’s going on with y’all?”

I bite my lip. “I did something stupid.”

We’re sitting in the middle of the floor of the main classroom, surrounded by mirrors and barres that make it feel like no time has passed at all since our days as ballet students at Ms. Alice’s. Except everything has changed. Instead of water bottles and granola bars, we’re sipping on champagne and eating a charcuterie board in the middle of the floor, celebrating my transition from student to teacher. And instead of confessing to something stupid like forgetting my toe pads, I’m about to tell her that I slept with my ex.

“What’d you do?” She asks, plucking a grape off of the wooden board between us and dropping it into her mouth.

“I slept with Hunter,” I whisper.

Dee is a notoriously loud eater, so I hear the moment she stops chewing. “You did what?!”

I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on top so I can see the disgust that must be gathering on her face. Except, there’s not any disgust. There’s just intrigue.

Dee reaches over and pokes me in the forehead. “You sneaky little bitch. When did this happen?”

The fact that she’s not judging me in the slightest makes me feel better and worse at the same time. I deserve to be judged. I deserve to be admonished. I deserve to be anything other than celebrated.

“Remember when Ri and I stayed the weekend with him?”

“Rae! That was weeks ago!”

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