Page 20 of Better Left Unsaid

She was about to perform in her first dance recital. And I knew she was going to dominate.

Maybe it was all the gymnastics classes she’d taken almost as soon as she’d started walking. For the first year she’d done gymnastics, it had been our special thing—lots of mommy and me activities that had helped her develop coordination, confidence, and a love for the sport. Then, as she’d gone from two and three years old to four and five, she’d started serious training. And when her friends had started coupling gymnastics with dance, Isabella had wanted in. I could never deny her, so of course, I had promptly enrolled her. Turned out, she had a real knack for both sports. And tonight she’d get to share that with our family and friends.

As I bent down backstage and combed my fingers through her hair one last time before spraying her head with enough hairspray so not a single hair would come undone, I squeezed her shoulders. If I could have wrapped my arms around her and brought her close, I would have, but I knew she wouldn’t love that—not in her sequined dance biketard.

“Mommy!” she squealed. “You’re going to mess me up.”

Letting up on my grip, I reluctantly pulled back. “Okay, fine,” I said and lightly patted her backside, scooting her around. “Turn around so I can spray your hair.”

“Then can I go see my friends?” she asked and looked over her shoulder at the other girls starting to form a group just behind the curtain.

I nodded and picked up the can of hairspray, giving her a good and thorough misting. I didn’t get to finish, though, because just then Dom approached, and Isabella took off like a shot. “Uncle Dom!” she excitedly shouted.

She let him pick her up and spin her in the air—go figure. Although, an argument could have been made that I understood my daughter’s affinity for him better than anyone.

Anyway, he set her down, and they walked back over to me, but I had given up on spraying her hair. “Geez,” Dom said, covering his nose, “it stinks in here. If someone lit a match, the whole place would go up in flames. What are you dance moms teaching these kids?”

Angling my head, I smirked. “Funny. You know very well she only uses this stuff because it’s regulation for the class.” The regulation: when performing she was to have a slicked-back bun, held in place with pins that couldn’t be seen by the naked eye and hairspray with the strongest hold we could get our hands on. At home and at all other times, I let her naturally soft waves do their own thing, maybe adding a few clips here and there to properly style her hair.

“How do I look, Uncle Dom?”

He bent down and examined her closely. “I see you’re wearing your mother’s red lipstick.” That she was. Along with silver, sparkly gel eyeshadow Bianca had recommended and pink blush.

Isabella pursed her lips and smiled. “Do you like it?”

He tapped the tip of her nose. “I love it. You look like a dancer, Peanut. Are you ready for showtime?”

Bobbing her head up and down, she smiled proudly. “I am. Can I go with my friends now?”

I looked at my watch and knew she’d be corralled over any minute, so I nodded. “Good luck! I’ll be right in the front with your aunts and uncles and nonno. Have a great show, my love!” I blew an air kiss at her because I knew the rules (no messing up her makeup) and off she went.

Dom helped me up and winked at me. “She’s too cute.”

With a cock of my eyebrow, I looked at him. He should only know. She could be as cute as ever, as sweet as sugar, but she also had a passionate side that made her as sassy as could be when she didn’t get her way. Typical five-year-old-going-on-six (or maybe sixteen).

“I know that look,” he said and picked up my bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “Hey, what’s in here, rocks?”

I laughed. “Cans of hairspray,” I joked.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Come on, let’s get to our seats.” He hooked an arm over my shoulder and led me around front.

“You know, Isabella is so excited about starting dance camp next week. She can’t stop talking about it.”

“Don’t I know it.”

We got to the row with my family, and Dom let me slide in first. Bianca tapped the only body part that was at her height from where she was sitting—my hip—and let out a shriek. “The silver eyeshadow was genius. You didn’t say anything, but I saw the other girls, and let’s just say that Isabella will be the most fashionable girl on that stage.”

Leave it to Bianca to worry about these things. As I continued the journey to the only two vacant seats in the row—between Allie and Jade—Perla leaned forward from the row behind us and whisper-shouted, “Frankie volunteered to record tonight, so don’t worry about trying to capture it. He’s already on the end over there.” She pointed across the aisle to where Frankie was leaning out, phone poised, ready to get footage.

Meanwhile, I finally settled in and heaved a sigh as my butt hit the chair. Dom sat at my side, placing my bag on the floor between us.

Jade leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Did you guys—”

Holy crap. I turned to look at her head-on and shushed her, my eyes growing as wide as saucers. She wasn’t actually going to bring up me and Dom here, was she? See, this was exactly why I didn’t want anyone to know. Certainly not Jade.

Jade narrowed hers, looking at me like I was stupid. “I was going to ask if you guys got Isabella roses.”Okay, so maybe I am—stupid, that is.Or paranoid, not that we were going to make that a multiple-choice answer. “There’s a vendor selling some out front. I thought it might be nice, but I wanted to check with you first.”

I rubbed my lips together and exhaled. I couldn’t believe out of everyone who could have discovered our secret, it had to be Jade. It was the only thing I could think about when I looked at her. Probably because I was waiting for her to open her big mouth and say something. “No, I didn’t,” I answered simply. “I’m sure she’d like them, though, if you were thinking of getting them for her.”

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