I lift my shoulders up and let them fall in a helpless shrug. “Dunno. I guess I’ll start with hello?”
If her eyes could roll any harder, they would.
“Serena, I realize you default to humour in times of stress, but this warrants your attention. Your immediate reaction was to hide from him, and now you think you’ll be able to hold a conversation?”
“No, Paige, I don’t,” I reply hotly. “Honestly, I have no idea what I would say to Leo. I never let myself think about seeing him again, it hurt too much.”
Paige’s face falls. “I didn’t realize he caused you so much pain.”
No, she didn’t. She couldn’t, seeing as I never told anyone the full story of me and Leo. Thankfully, I’m saved from having to reply by the voice of Paige’s fiancé, Wyatt.
“Hey ladies. Serena, do you need help getting stuff moved inside?”
Paige walks over to Wyatt, lifting up on her toes to kiss his cheek. I’ve been around so many lovey-dovey couples for over a year, I should be used to this by now. But seeing Leo has reopened the empty hole in my heart that was left when I said goodbye to him.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.” I smile at them both, forcing my thoughts of Leo away.
“Great. Faster we get you cleaned up, faster we can head to Hastings.” Wyatt claps his hands together, but all I feel is unenthused. As much as I love my friends, and as much as I thrive on being around them and being out and about, right now I just want to go home.
“Actually, I think I’m gonna pass on the pub tonight,” I say, hoping it comes off casually enough that no one thinks about how out of character that is for me. I’m normally the life of the party.
“Understandable. You must be quite fatigued after today, I know I am. In fact, I would happily go straight home, but Wyatt wishes to have a beer with everyone, and I agreed to accompany him.” Paige squeezes my hand, and I flash her a grateful smile. She has her moments of being so in tune with me, and I love her for it.
“Yeah, I’m sorry to back out, but I’m exhausted, and I have to get to the studio early tomorrow to work on some stuff for the winter recital. And you know I don’t do mornings well.”
The white lie seems to satisfy Paige and Wyatt, and we make quick work of tidying up my booth and carrying things over to the studio. After waving goodbye to them, I lock up, then climb the stairs to my apartment. Living above my workplace is perfect for so many reasons, but my favourite is the 24/7 easy access to a dance space any time I need to work out some emotions.
Like tonight.
Which is why, after a quick shower and a change into a leotard and tights, I head back downstairs. I line up my favourite playlist for when I need to unwind and press play before heading to the barre. This is where I feel the most at peace with myself.
I have spent my entire life focused on dance. From taking ballet classes as a child, I went to a top-tier dance school and was hired as a professional ballerina. I always had the eventual plan of teaching once I retired. I just never expected retirement to be forced on me the way it was.
But I’ve come to terms with that and even managed to find a new way to love dance through teaching.
Now my studio is about to be taken away from me. If I don’t get enrollment up soon, I won’t be able to make the mortgage payments. As it is, I’m walking a thin line, not paying myself anything, every penny going back into the business. No one knows. Not my friends, not my mother, nobody.
Because the one thing I’ve learned from the many times things have gone wrong in my life is this: the worst part is the pity I inevitably see on other people’s faces.
That’s something I hoped would never follow me to Dogwood Cove.
Moving away from the barre, I change the music from my warmup song to something I know will let me push all of these negative emotions back into a box in my mind.
And an hour later, sweat trickling down the small of my back, I drop to the floor and lay spread eagle, breathing heavily. My mind is clear, my body is exhausted, and I know that as soon as I peel myself up off the floor and go take another shower, I’ll fall asleep easily. This peace, the quiet in my head, I only find this after dancing.
But when I eventually crawl underneath the covers of my bed, breathing in the lavender and spruce essential oils from my diffuser, one image and one name keep popping into my head.
A tall, handsome man holding an adorable little girl. A girl who isn’t mine.
Leo.
Chapter two
Leo
People who live in small towns are weird.
The good kind of weird, don’t get me wrong. The kind that says hello to you when you’re walking down the street, even if they don’t know you. The kind that lifts a hand or even just a couple of fingers when you drive past each other. The kind that stops to welcome you to their town as if you’re some long-lost prodigal son returning home.