Page 51 of Jilted
“Not now, Mom,” he said as he opened his car door and got inside. Right now, he had to find Amy. He’d deal with his mother’s questions later.
Brett awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, trying to get his bearings. He’d gone to Amy’s house – their house – and waited for Amy to arrive. She never did. Brett stood and stretched. It was almost nine in the morning. He knew she would be at the studio; they were resuming classes today. Brett grabbed his keys from the coffee table and rushed out of the house.
He arrived at the studio fifteen minutes later. Sure enough, Amy was there. He took a moment to watch her as she instructed the group of students. She looked tired, sad, and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d spent the night crying. The thought that she had, and that he’d been the cause of it, sickened him. He would make things right. He had to because life without Amy wasn’t worth living.
“Dylan, you look like an overcooked noodle today,” Amy said, her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way toward the boy. Her voice snapped Brett out of his thoughts. “Do you need the posture bar?”
“No, Miss Amy,” Dylan responded, straightening his back. His arms were still all wrong.
Brett used the opportunity to his advantage. He walked up to Dylan and repositioned his arms, putting his hand on the boy’s back to straighten him the proper way. Then he locked his gaze with Amy’s. She looked at him for only a moment before averting her gaze, but not before Brett noticed the unshed tears in her eyes.
“Okay,” Amy said, “one more time. Five, six, seven, eight...turn, turn, turn...good. Nice job, Mindy, great lines.”
Brett stood next to her and watched the students dance. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’re late. Classes start promptly at nine,” she said without looking at him. “Vanessa keep you up too late last night?”
There was so much venom in her voice. “I wasn’t with Vanessa,” he said angrily. “I spent the entire night at our house waiting for you to come home.”
She still wouldn’t look at him.
He sighed. “Amy, please, just talk to me.”
“Nice job, guys,” she said, clapping her hands and smiling at the students. “Okay, take five, and then we’ll work on some new choreography.” Finally, she looked at him. “You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.”
She ushered him into the corner and lowered her voice to an angry whisper. “I have spent my entire life loving you, Brett. You’re the only person in the world I have ever completely trusted, and last night you broke my heart and destroyed my trust in you. There’s no coming back from that.”
They stood in a silent battle of wills. He knew he’d hurt her, but he hadn’t realized how much. He also knew that if he didn’t do something, he would lose her forever. And that wasn’t an option.
Brett swallowed hard. “You’re wrong.”
He turned and walked away. He would come back from this, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it, too.
Amy sighed with aggravation when her cell phone rang again. This time, it was a text message from Brett. At least he’d moved on from calling every four seconds.
BRETT: Emergency at the studio. Come now! Urgent! 911.
She didn’t even think twice about it. Amy was out of her sister’s apartment and rushing toward her car. Her thoughts raced. Was the studio on fire? Had it been vandalized? Burglarized? Why hadn’t she been notified? She was listed as the owner, too, so why hadn’t the police called her?
When she arrived, the building looked fine. There were no signs of anything bad. But the lights were on. She got out of her car and went inside.
Brett stood in the middle of the room. Why the fuck did he have to look so damn sexy? And why was her first thought to go to him and throw herself into his arms? She’d give anything to be back on that island with him right now.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked. “What’s wrong with the studio?”
“Nothing, I needed to get you here and this was the only way I knew how,” Brett said.
“I’m leaving.” She turned to do just that when something caught her eye. “Is that a pile of sand on the floor?” Her voice got progressively louder with each spoken word. “Why is there sand on my dance floor?” He knew how neurotic she was about a clean floor.
“I can explain.” He smiled, and she felt her knees get weak.
Amy crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently tapped her foot. “Well...I’m waiting?”
He licked his lips, and she cursed herself for watching him, wanting him. “Do you remember our last day on the island? We watched the sunrise on the beach?”
“Yes.” That was the day he’d told her he loved her, and then they made love. She would never forget that day for as long as she lived.
Brett walked up to her and gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms. The contact sent her body into a tailspin. “In those seconds before I told you I loved you, I had a moment of perfect clarity. Everything suddenly made sense to me. Our relationship, my feelings for you, my life...” He shook his head.
