Page 13 of Someone to Tempt
“It’s for me. Promise.” I ignore the nerves churning in my gut at what I’m about to share, and focus my gaze on Sloane.
“When I was eight, we lived in Albuquerque for six months. I had a best friend for the first time, and eventually, her mom enrolled me in a dance class with all the other girls from our grade. She felt bad that I was being left out.” A smile plays at the corners of my mouth. “I loved everything about it. The leotards and tights and special shoes, even though all my stuff was hand-me-down or from the lost and found bin. Most of all, I just loved dancing.”
“Okay, that’s adorable,” Sadie says. “I can totally picture little Iris twirling.”
“Twirling was my favorite,” I confirm with a grin that falters as I continue. “Mom thought it was stupid because, in her mind, dancing—fun in general—was mutually exclusive to structure. Why did I need lessons when I could move to music in any old way?”
“But she didn’t stop you from taking lessons, did she?” Avah asks.
“Not exactly.” I lower my gaze and pick an invisible speck of lint off my black sweater. “In retrospect, I don’t think she liked that another mother was doing something for me. Mom might have been lax in parenting, but she didn’t want anyone involved in our business. I guess I understand.” I tried to back then anyway.
Sloane lets out a disdainful huff of breath. “Then she should have stepped up and taken an active role in your life.”
Sloane’s parents weren’t like my mom. They’re both archeologists and professors, but from what I gather, they always—and still—placed work and their own needs above taking care of their kids. I know she understands how that neglect can eat away at a child’s soul.
“A week before the recital, Mom decided we were moving to Texas. She’d met some guy on Myspace and was convinced she’d found the love of her life. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.”
“What about your recital?” Taylor asks.
“I didn’t get to dance in it.” I shrug. “I kept the leotard and other stuff and danced my heart out alone in my room. But after that, I stopped participating in extracurricular activities. I didn’t want to let anyone else down.” I swallow around the ball of emotion lodged in my throat and smile. “If you need verification, I still have the leotard.”
“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet.” Molly gets up and comes around the table to hug me. “You’re going to be a ballerina.”
The lightness that fills my chest at her words surprises me. Maybe I have an ulterior motive for enrolling in Gloria’s dance class, but it could help me discover what fun means. The fact that my potential political mentor also loves to dance is a happy coincidence, and I need something happy to end this day.
My gaze meets Sloane’s, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You’re doing it,” she says. “You’re taking my challenge seriously.”
“Of course I am, you bald nut. I’d do anything for you.”
“We all would,” Molly says as she returns to her seat.
“Thank you,” my friend tells the group. “It means the world to me. Especially because...” She trails off and swipes under her eyes. “All these stupid tears.”
“You can cry all you want,” I tell her, and my voice comes out a little fiercer than I meant. “There’s nothing wrong with crying,” I say in a gentler tone.
Sloane smiles because she knows I don’t cry. But that rule only applies to me.
“What is it?” Sadie asks, and it’s obvious by the look on the faces around the table that we’re all worried and trying not to show it.
“I went to Nashville for a follow-up last week.”
“Without telling anyone?” I demand.
Sadie takes her hand. “One of us could have driven you to the airport or gone with you. You’re not alone.”
Sloane laughs, but it sounds hollow. “I didn’t want to worry anyone. But I wasn’t alone. Jeremy picked me up in his company plane.”
Sloane’s brother, Jeremy, is some sort of tech genius billionaire. He lives in California, and they hadn’t been close until her diagnosis. In fact, from everything she’s said about him or I’ve read online, Jeremy Winslow is an asshole. Yet, he stepped up for Sloane, taking her to Vanderbilt in Nashville, where he has connections in the oncology unit.
We know he wants her to move to California, where he can be more closely involved in her treatment, but like Sadie said, Skylark is a home that people choose. Sloane isn’t leaving. At least not yet. For that, I’m grateful.
“My body needs a break, but they want me to start a more aggressive course of chemo at the end of the month. Six weeks of it.” She grimaces. “I’ll have to be in Nashville for most of that time.”
Avah blows out a long breath then asks, “This will kill the fucking cancer, right?”
“They hope so,” Sloane answers, but sounds less than sure.
“What do you need?” I ask. “We’ll do anything.”
