Page 41

Today is the day of my first recital as a teacher, and I feel like I could throw up. That could also be the acid reflux that’s causing me to pop Tums like they’re candy every evening. But tonight, at least some of it is nerves.

Backstage in the Larkspur Performing Arts Center is buzzing, girls in tutus and pointe shoes that are only half-laced running around, finishing getting ready.

It’s warm and smells of perfume and hairspray.

It’s a little overwhelming, but also a little comforting.

It’s the behind-the-scenes magic of ballet.

Still, I excuse myself thirty minutes before the first dance, needing to escape to the bathroom, where it’s quiet and cold and I can gather myself.

I’ve been in this exact same bathroom many times before.

I performed dozens of recitals here over the years, and before the first one, I found a secluded bathroom in the basement that I think has been mostly forgotten about.

It’s small and a little dingy, and the light above the sink has flickered without dying for the last twenty years.

But for the first time, when I step into this bathroom, I don’t feel panic seizing my chest. I’m breathing normally—or as normally as I can with my diaphragm compressed by the baby taking up my entire midsection.

I haven’t broken out in a cold sweat or stored an extra tube of mascara somewhere on my person so I can touch up my makeup so no one knows I was crying.

Tonight, there are nerves fluttering in my stomach, and my skin feels a little clammy. My hands are shaking. But I’m okay . And God, it feels so damn good.

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my black silk wrap dress. If I thought finding casual maternity clothes was difficult, I severely underestimated how difficult it would be to find a bump-friendly professional yet elegant dress.

When I glance at the screen, I can feel myself smiling down at it.

Beau: I’d say break a leg, but I feel like pregnancy might make recovery a little difficult.

I’m still grinning as I text him back.

Elsie: Yes, because recovery for a broken leg is usually so easy.

Beau: I could make lying on your back with your feet up for a few weeks worth your time.

A hot blush steals into my cheeks. The last few weeks with Beau have been…busy. We’ve been making up for lost time.

Beau: Are you nervous about tonight?

I’m proud of myself for not even considering lying or brushing off the truth. I text him back immediately.

Elsie: Terrified.

A knock on the bathroom door comes before his reply, and I stand up straight, quickly examining my reflection in the mirror before opening the door.

It’s Beau, dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white button-down.

He even managed to wrangle his hair back into submission, and he shaved off the stubble that’s perpetually covering his cheeks.

He looks good, and I’m stunned to find him here.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, staring up at him. In the dim light of the basement, his eyes are almost black.

He lifts one solid shoulder in a shrug, causing his shirt to stretch to accommodate it. “Tonya told me I could probably find you here.”

I’m not even a little surprised that Tonya knows about my secret spot, and I’m even less surprised that she never intruded on it. It makes my heart swell impossibly larger for her.

I motion at the tiny bathroom behind me. “ This ,” I say with a flourish, “is my sanctuary.”

A smile tugs up one side of his lips. “I can see why you like the place. It’s so rare to find a toilet such a lovely shade of yellow.”

I glance back at the toilet that was probably white sometime around Nixon’s presidency. “I have good taste.”

When I look back at him, his grin is even wider. He points at himself. “I know.”

I can’t help the smile that curls my lips. He looks so handsome like this, and there’s a lightness about him that I didn’t realize had darkened in the months we were separated. He looks like Beau again, and there’s nothing in this world that makes me happier than Beau.

“So why’d you come looking for me?” I ask, leaning on the doorframe that’s covered in a layer of chipping white paint.

His eyes soften, and he lifts a hand to push a stray lock of my hair over my shoulder. The feeling of his skin on mine is like dawn brightening in my chest, warmth filling me up from the inside out.

“I thought you might be nervous.”

I hold his stare, meaning the words I say next. “A little less so now.”

He brightens a little. “Yeah?”

My chin dips in a nod, and I stare into the eyes that are more familiar to me than my own.

I’ve seen them light up as I walked down the aisle toward him on our wedding day.

Seen them fill with tears that I refused to shed when we realized I had miscarried.

Seen them burn with fire as his body moved against mine, as he whispered for me to let go.

Seen them dim and shutter the day I asked him to leave.

Right now they’re impossibly tender, full of a love that never wavered, even when I was hurting him. It’s the kind of tenderness I can feel deep in my chest, that makes me ache with a matching longing.

“Yeah,” I tell him, voice soft. “You make me feel brave.”

The recital goes off without a hitch. I’ve never been prouder of sixty young girls in my entire life. I’ve never been prouder of myself than when I stand on the stage in front of my town and accept the flowers Tonya offers me.

I’ve stood on stages all over the country and even a few across the world.

I’ve danced on blistered feet and on one occasion, a dislocated hip.

I’ve broken myself down time and time again for this sport, but tonight, when I stood backstage and hugged a twelve-year-old girl who was on the verge of a breakdown because she was scared she was going to mess up in front of the entire town, I finally felt like I’d accomplished the thing I’d been working toward my entire life.

The blisters and the sprained ankles and the fad diets and the hours and years I spent devoting myself to dance felt worth it .

And when I heard the wolf whistle that Beau has tried and failed to teach me more times than I can count over the noise of the applause, my throat was too thick to breathe. There, in the front row, were the Jenningses. Each and every one of them.

Now, when I appear from backstage, they’re all there, smiles on their faces. Beau is holding a bouquet of wildflowers. And beside him are my parents.

The sight of them hits me straight in the chest.

Dad hugs me first, whispering in my ear. “You did great, kiddo. We’re proud of you.”

I pull back from him, too stunned for words, needing to feel Beau at my side, his steady, unwavering presence.

But before I can go to him, my mom catches my eye. I can’t read the expression on her face. “You put on a wonderful performance, Elsie.”

Her praise glows in my chest, because I take it for what it is. I know she still wishes I would go back to dancing professionally, but she’s here , and she’s acknowledging my choice. It’s a step in the right direction.

I surprise us both by wrapping my arms around her. She smells like she always does, like expensive perfume and the body oil she lathers herself in after every shower. She smells like my mom, and, strangely enough, I’m comforted by it. “Thank you for coming.”

She nods when I pull back. “We will be at the party too.”

My eyes lock on Beau’s. His expression is locked somewhere between pride and concern. He’s no doubt wondering what my parents said in voices too quiet for him to hear over the din of young girls being congratulated by their families.

“Party?” I ask, unsure if I’m talking to my mom or Beau.

He moves closer to me, his hand finding its place on my lower back, a comforting touch that I shamelessly lean into. “Something to celebrate,” he says.

I stare up at him, unblinking. “The recital?”

A patient smile coaxes his lips, and he tightens his hold on me. “Yeah, Els. We all want to celebrate your first recital.”

The house is lit up from the inside, and I can see the decorations all the way from the driveway. Something swells in my chest at the sight of it, and my throat feels thick with an emotion I can’t quite name. Something warm and sticky and tender.

Beau and I drove separately since I had to be at the performing arts center hours before the recital, and he beat me home, along with half of the Jenningses, so when I let myself into the house, I’m followed by a loud burst of applause and congratulations.

I’m clutching Beau’s flowers to my chest when he makes his way to me, and all I can think to say is “I can’t believe you did all this.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe you did all that .” He shakes his head, a look of wonder on his face. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

The feeling in my chest expands and explodes, effervescent glitter sparkling everywhere.

Behind me, the door opens and Tonya enters, grinning maniacally. “We did it, honey!” she shouts, wrapping me in a hug. I barely saw her after the performance, and when I caught her eye while she was talking to a parent, she shooed me off and told me she’d see me in a bit.

I tighten my arms around her, sinking into her familiar warmth. “We did.” I pull back, looking into her dark eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

She shakes her head, gray curls bouncing in the warm light. “I didn’t do anything. You just needed a soft place to land and someone to tell you that you could do it.”

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I push them down and give her one last hug before I truly lose it.

“Let’s have cake,” Jade shouts from somewhere behind me, pulling a grin out of me and making the tears stay firmly in place.

The night feels magical. I eat enough cake to make my stomach hurt, and I sip on apple bubbly while everyone else drinks champagne. My heart swells enough that my chest hurts, and everyone stops to congratulate me.

Cash and Ryder bring me cards they made.

Willow put Ruby in a shirt with a picture of my face on it.

Cooper gives me a hug and tells me he’s proud of me.

Clint kisses my temple and Lottie pats my cheek in that comforting yet practical way of hers.

Even my parents raise a glass when Beau makes a toast. And Beau never leaves my side.

Any time I turn around, he’s there, grinning like he’s never been more proud of me, his eyes soft, his body warm beside mine.

“Have you picked out what you’re going to wear to the baby shower?” Jade asks as I scrape off another icing flower from my cake and spoon it into my mouth.

“No,” I groan. “I was too focused on finding something to wear for this. Maybe I’ll just repurpose it.”

She makes a face. “Maybe we will just go shopping.”

A sigh heaves out of me. “I really don’t see why I need to get dressed up.”

I finally relented when the might of the women in the family harassed me into having a baby shower.

I’ve been completely out of the planning since I’ve been devoting every waking minute to the recital, so I don’t even know the theme or food or games.

But I’m assuming it’s going to be low key.

They may have convinced me that some of the hostility from the town was all in my head, but they’ve only managed to make me believe that the people of Larkspur are indifferent to me.

They may not toilet paper the house, but they’re not going to purchase diaper cream off my baby registry either.

“Because you can no longer get away with unbuttoned jeans,” Jade replies.

She’s right. They’re no longer making it over my hips. I’ve been relying on Beau’s boxer shorts and plain tees that barely cover my growing stomach.

“Fine, we’ll go shopping, but I still don’t see the point when it’s just going to be family there.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your pessimism is astounding.”

“Your optimism is unrealistic,” I tell her.

She only shakes her head. “You’ll see, Els. Look around you.” She motions at the people gathered around my house, too many to fit on the furniture. “You’re as much a part of this town as any of us.”