Page 34 of Second Dance
“We have a lot of complications. The kids. Our very different lifestyles.”
“Are you willing to see what’s here?”
I looked into his eyes for a second or two, my chest aching with all that could have been and could perhaps be now. Finally. “I’m willing if you are.”
He lifted his glass, and I did the same. “Then here’s to us.”
I clinked my glass with his, pulse quickening. This was happening. It was not a sweet dream of the past.
“Now, have an oyster,” Alex said.
I lifted the oyster to my lips. The salt of the sea burst on my tongue—cold and sharp. Across from me, Alex watched, his gaze igniting something that made my skin warm. Outside, the sun slipped lower, setting the water ablaze. Inside, I felt the same fire beginning to burn.
7
ALEX
The oysters disappeared faster than I expected, but then, every time Gillie lifted one to her lips, I lost track of my own thoughts. Fourteen years, and she could still undo me with nothing more than the curve of her mouth and the tilt of her head when she laughed.
The waiter cleared the tray and set down our entrées—her halibut glistening under a pale sauce, my lobster risotto fragrant with saffron and cream. The aroma should’ve had me hungry, but all I wanted was to memorize every detail of her. The way candlelight softened her curls. The way that dress showed off her toned arms. The way she looked both elegant and strong at the same time.
“That dress is almost worthy of you,” I said.
She glanced up. “Esme told me what to wear. I’m usually in leggings, not pretty dresses.”
I paused, searching for the right words to ask her if she missed dancing. She’d been so good. Full of dreams. “Do you miss the stage? Dancing?”
Her fork stilled, hovering above her plate. “Sometimes. Why?”
I cleared my throat. “I just remember how good you were. Do you remember the showcase you did that summer? You danced Swan Lake. I talked the stage manager into letting me in for dress rehearsal.”
Her lips parted, eyes wide, vulnerable. “I remember.” She cut a bit of fish off with the tongs of her fork. “I was so in love with you. Showing up like that for me? It meant a lot. I could feel your eyes on me that night, and it made me want to be better.”
“You were magical,” I said. “No one could take their eyes off you.”
“I had an offer after that. Boston Ballet.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?” She’d gotten the call about her sister just a few days after the showcase.
“They called me, but I was already here, knee deep in diapers.”
“Oh, Gillie, no.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s hard, even now, to talk about. It wasn’t just the job. If I hadn’t had to go, I could have moved to Boston and … who knows what would have happened between us. Not to mention my dream job.”
The back of my throat ached. “I’m sorry, Gillie. I really am.”
“I don’t think about it much these days … but there were some nights when Grace was teething and I was all alone, I thought about all I had to give up for her. Not that I regret it. I can’t imagine what it would be like without her. She’s made my life meaningful. Given me so much love. Allowed me to be the mother I know my sister would have been, despite how we were raised. But every once in awhile, I’d think about Boston. And the company. And you. And wonder why. Why had God let this happen?”
She looked down at her plate, blinking hard, and I fought the urge to reach across the table, to take her hand, to tell her I wished things had been different for her.
“But that’s the way of things, isn’t it?” Gillian asked. “Roads diverge and all that? And we have to choose a direction. So I did.”
“And now we’re here.”
“Yes, with so many complications,” Gillian said. “Things that could keep us apart.”
“My kids.”
