Page 78 of A Labor of Hate
My blood ran cold.She couldn’t possibly know who I really was, right?Was that why she’d been acting weird since the spa day?
I played dumb, furrowing my brow and frowning.“What do you mean?”
“You seem kind of sad, okay?More quiet than usual.”Her expression softened, and she set to drying her hands.“What’s really going on?You wanted to get your mind off something.”
I blinked hard.How on earth had she picked up on that?Had I really been that obvious?This was why my mask of neutrality was so handy—so stuff like this wouldn’t happen in the first place.
She laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls.“You weren’t a total drag or anything, I promise.I just used to do the same thing after every failed treatment—ask my sister to meet me for drinks.So when you weren’tquiteas enthusiastic as always ...”
“Oh.”I nodded, a flicker of relief racing through me.“I, uh… yeah.I guess I am a little down.Colt and I just had an argument, that’s all.”
That was perfectly normal for couples, right?Even happily married ones?
“Ahhh.”She drew the sound out, her head bobbing sagely as she tossed her paper towel in the trash.“I take it neither of you has apologized yet?”
My cheeks heated, turning an incriminating pink in the mirror.“Well, no.Not yet.”
Were apologies really necessary?We hadn’t done anything truly upsetting to each other, had we?I hadn’t watered down his juice or switched his shoelaces or called him any names in a while now.Was that what he was waiting for—an apology?It was possible, but he would’ve told me that, wouldn’t he?Most people probably wouldn’t, but he was different.
Vivienne hummed in acknowledgement, waiting until I’d finished drying my hands, too, before imparting any wisdom.She rested her hand on my arm, her expression open and kind and exactly the type of thing that would make it so painful to betray her.“You two will work it out, I’m sure of it.You love each other.Anyone can see that.Sometimes you just need to remind yourselfwhywhen your husband is driving you up the wall.”
I chuckled, choosing to ignore the way my heart pounded at the way she’d so casually mentioned how Colt and I loved each other.“Oh, I have no problem remembering the ‘why.’”
“Ah, sohe’sthe one who messed up.I see.”
I recoiled.My brain sputtered like a leaky showerhead.“What?No.That isn’t what I said.”
“Relax, I’m just messing with you.”Vivienne grinned, stopping short of opening the door.“Your dance class is tonight, right?At the rec center?”
I stared blankly, trying and failing to follow the thread of the conversation.“Yes?”
“Which dance are you teaching now?”
Again, I could only manage one-word sentences.“Tango.Why?”
That gleam in her eyes returned, and her smile curled into a mischievous one.“Oh, no reason.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
THIS HAD TO be a dream.Or a nightmare.Because standing amongst my usual ballroom students were three new people, and five hulking shadows lurked against the back wall.Three familiar people.Three people I never in my life anticipated to show up unannounced to any of my classes, and especially not all on the same night.
Vivienne and Charles were the first newcomers to show up, complete with their entourage of rotten beefcakes.Vivienne looked pleased as punch to be here.Charles looked like he’d rather saw off his own feet than use them to dance, but alas.The man was smitten with his wife, so his fate was sealed.
And then, right before I would clap my hands to get everyone’s attention, a familiar lean figure had walked through the door.Colt.My stupidly hot fake husband who has been avoiding me, looking positively sinful in a wine-red button-down and slacks.
At that point, all intelligent thought fled the premises.I might have blacked out and been possessed by a devil who knew how to dance, because I scarcely remembered the first eight minutes of class.I assumed we must have made it through our warm-ups and review of what we learned last week, but I couldn’t be sure.Someone could’ve told me I’d grown a rooster tail and flown to the moon, and I’d probably believe them.
“All right” —I panned over each student in the room as we finished stretching, a wide variety of ages and skill levels represented in the crowd— “tonight we’re moving on to the American tango.”
A mix of reactions passed over everyone’s face.Colt eyed the door and shifted uncomfortably as he had done about every seven seconds since arriving.Most of the couples who came looked anywhere from neutral to intrigued, while Vivienne looked positively gleeful.
She raised her hand, her lashes fluttering innocently.“That’s the dance oflove, right?”
And with that single question, her motivations for being here tonight suddenly became crystal clear.I didn’t know how she’d managed to convince Colt to come, but if her display at the coffee shop taught me anything, the woman was a force to be reckoned with.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.Those who hadn’t come with their significant other eyed each other nervously.Colt cast a final glance at the door.But instead of escaping while he had the chance, he straightened into his typical pristine and confident posture and squared his shoulders.For whatever reason, he’d decided to stay.
“The Argentine tango is often referred to as the ‘dance of love,’ yes,” I agreed, answering Vivienne’s question and offering a reassuring smile.“But American tango is more showy and less intimate.So, those of you whose partner has been assigned, you shouldn’t have to worry about getting any declarations of undying devotion by the end of the night.”
