Page 27

Elsie smiles at her dad, looking a little more relaxed as he closes the distance between them and wraps her in a hug.

It makes some of the worry in my stomach settle.

I wouldn’t say that Elsie’s relationship with her parents is bad, but they have a very different dynamic than I do with my family.

Diana was a professional ballerina in New York until she retired in her late thirties.

She had Elsie two years later and passed her passion for dancing down to her daughter.

When they decided they didn’t want to raise Elsie in the city and wanted to live in a more “rustic” area, they researched dance studios before even looking at jobs for James.

Dance came first, and when they found a surprisingly elite dance studio forty-five minutes outside of Bozeman, James knew he could manage commuting and working remotely.

The three of them put everything into her dance career, hiring tutors to homeschool Elsie so she could focus on ballet during school hours, taking few vacations, even though they could afford them, and making sure Elsie had the most high-end gear.

Their family unit was a team dedicated to one thing: Elsie going pro.

So when she brought home a seventeen-year-old cowboy her junior year of high school, it didn’t go over well.

I’m still not sure exactly where I fit in their unit, but the more I’m learning about Elsie, the more I’m not quite sure she knows exactly where she fits anymore either.

Without dance, she’s not doing her part, and I think that weighs heavily on her.

And now that she’s pregnant, there’s even less of a chance of her going back to it.

We never told them we were expecting during the last pregnancy, and I’m not sure if she ever told them about the miscarriage. When I asked her after moving home if she told them about our separation, she said no, so I doubt she told them about the miscarriage either.

“How are you doing, honey?” James asks, holding Elsie out at arm’s length to examine her.

“She looks tired,” Diana says, concern crossing over her features.

He waves her off. “You do look a little fatigued, but your eyes are bright. Teaching keeping you working hard?”

Elsie nods. “Very,” she says. “The girls have seemingly never-ending energy.”

James laughs, the sound booming through the cavernous home, the lines beside his eyes crinkling. “What I wouldn’t give for that.”

“You and me both,” Elsie responds, smiling softly at her father.

“Enough about work,” Diana says, much to no one’s surprise. Before Elsie’s injury and quitting dance, work was basically our only topic of conversation, but since then, Diana hasn’t been interested in talking about it. “Who wants a drink?”

Elsie’s eyes flash to mine, looking like a deer in the headlights. “I can make them.”

“I’ve got it,” I say, clearing my throat, then head for the bar off the living room. “What does everyone want?”

“Surprise me,” Elsie answers quickly, and I know she’s hoping I’ll cover for the fact that she’s not drinking.

“Whiskey, neat,” James says.

“My usual,” Diana says, meaning a martini with a twist.

I’ve learned almost nothing of value from these people over the years, but I have learned how to make a good drink.

The bar is always stocked, and I usually use it as a chance to experiment, but tonight I want to keep my head clear.

I make Diana’s and James’s drinks before pouring two club sodas for Elsie and me, garnishing them each with a lime wedge.

“So what’s been going on the past few months?” Diana asks. “We’ve hardly seen the two of you. I’m not even sure the last time we saw you, Beau.”

“Thanksgiving,” I reply, handing everyone their drinks. It was just a few days before Elsie asked me to leave. I’m not sure what excuse she made for me not being at Christmas.

“Right,” James says, nodding. “And then the two of you spent Christmas with your family.”

“I’m still not sure why you couldn’t even manage to come here for dinner,” Diana says.

She sounds annoyed, but I ignore it, turning to face Elsie. She’s not looking at me, keeping her eyes focused on her parents. My heart twists as I imagine her home alone on Christmas, not wanting to explain to her parents why I wasn’t there and feeling like she couldn’t come to the ranch.

“We were busy,” Elsie responds, not looking at me. “Plus, the two of you went to the New York house the day after Christmas and stayed for all of January.”

I clear my throat. “Right, sorry about that.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair.”

“It’s fine,” James says, dismissing Diana’s comment. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re here now, aren’t we, Di?”

Elsie’s mom purses her lips. “Yes, of course. Anyway, what’s new?”

Beside me, Elsie tenses, her hand flexing on her glass.

I know she’s not ready to tell them about the pregnancy, so I say, “I’m training a new horse at the ranch. Her name is Sugar.”

Diana blinks, completely uninterested, and I have to work to hold back the laugh that bubbles in my throat.

“Is that so?” James asks. “How is it going?” The man has probably never been within twenty feet of a horse, but I appreciate that he always asks about my work and tries to seem interested. The same way I do when he drones on about bonds or whatever the hell he works on all day.

“She’s a bit skittish,” I say, feeling Elsie’s eyes on me. “She’s been hurt in the past. It’s a fine balance, knowing when to let her do her thing and when to push.”

“I’m sure,” James responds. “You’re a patient man, though. I’m sure, in time, she will trust you fully.”

This time, I finally do look at Elsie. Her eyes are narrowed ever so slightly, like she’s dissecting my words for hidden meaning and finding it there. “Yeah, I am,” I say. “I’m willing to wait on her to trust me.”

We’re done with dinner and dessert, and Elsie still hasn’t told her parents about the pregnancy. I catch her eye from across the table, and she holds it for a long moment before finally sighing, shoulders drooping.

Beneath the table, I tap my foot against hers, trying to silently ask if she wants to do this today or not.

I’m this close to leaning across the table and grabbing her hand over the picked-over serving plate of roasted vegetables and squeezing it three times just so she doesn’t have to do this.

I don’t fully understand her hesitation, but I want to wipe it away.

Her parents don’t need to know about the pregnancy anyway. They can get a cute selfie of the three of us from the hospital and connect the dots.

But before I can reach for Elsie’s hand, she clears her throat, and her parents’ eyes swivel to her. They’ve been deep in conversation about some charity event they have to attend this weekend, and they both look surprised by Elsie’s random interruption.

I watch as Elsie tucks her hands beneath the table, and I wonder if it’s to hide their shaking. “Beau and I have something we’d like to tell you.”

Diana’s eyes widen, and she clasps her hands beneath her chin, smiling widely, her bright white teeth on display. “Did you get your spot back at the ballet? I’ve been making calls for months. Oh, Elsie, I’m so happy.”

Elsie’s face falls, and I watch the shutters slide over her eyes. I see that response now for what it is—shutting herself off, protecting herself. I don’t know how I never noticed it before. “No, Mom, I’m not going back to Utah.”

Diana looks between the two of us, confusion written on her features. I ignore her, though, and focus on Elsie. She seems to be caving in on herself, her eyes trained on her lap.

“What, then?”

I keep watching Elsie, and so I see the way she seems to swallow back her indecision.

The way her shoulders straighten and her jaw tightens.

It’s something to behold, really, the way she builds herself up, strengthens her resolve.

I used to see her do this when she was rehearsing a particularly difficult move, on nights when I would come to the studio after I got off work, when everyone else had long since gone home and she was practicing alone until she got it right.

“I’m pregnant.”

The statement hangs in the air, like the four of us are collectively holding our breath. James breaks it first, his chair sliding against the marble floor as he pushes to standing.

“Congrats, you two,” he says, and moves to wrap Elsie in a hug. She sinks into it, and I finally let out the breath I was holding. My gaze turns to Diana, who is still sitting at her end of the table, watching her husband and daughter. Lead sinks in my stomach at the look on her face.

She isn’t happy.

And I want to pull her out of this room before she tells Elsie that.

Elsie steps back from her father’s embrace and turns to face her mother. I watch the moment she registers her mom’s expression, the way her own falls.

“You’re not happy for me,” she says, staring at Diana.

A muscle in Diana’s jaw ticks. “You’re never going to go back to ballet now” is all she says.

Elsie sighs, sitting back down in her seat. James stays behind her, hand on the back of her chair. “I was never going to go back, Mom. I can’t perform at the same level after my injury. I can’t practice like I used to without risking further injury.”

“You were at the height of your career,” Diana says, voice rising, some mixture of pain and frustration on her face. “You could get back to where you were. We didn’t put in this much work for you to quit at twenty-seven.”

“Well, I did,” Elsie snaps, surprising every single one of us, including her. “I quit, and I started teaching, and I’ve come to love it. I’m not going back.”

“So you’re just going to live in this town and teach and have babies? That’s what you’re going to do with your life?” Diana asks, and none of us can miss the derisive way she says it, the disappointment lacing every word.

“It was good enough for you,” Elsie responds, her voice still carrying an edge, and I feel the breath catch in my lungs at the sound of it.

Her mom’s jaw tightens. “I danced until I was in my thirties. I lived a full life before I decided to have you. If it makes me the bad person for wanting you to get to have that, too, then fine. I’ll be the villain here.”

Silence follows her statement, heavy and painful, and I feel the words sinking into each one of us.

“Well, that’s not how it worked out for me,” Elsie says quietly, the sound of her voice echoing in the vast space. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy about it.”

I wonder if that’s true, if she really is happy.

She hasn’t been for so long, but I want it for her more than anything.

I’d do anything to make it happen, and for the first time, I realize maybe that’s what her mom has been doing.

Maybe she’s been working for her daughter’s happiness Elsie’s whole life, doing it in the best way she knew how.

I just don’t think she knows what will make her daughter happy, if she’s ever taken the time to find out.

“I hope that’s true,” Diana says, and for the first time, I agree with her.