"Yes," I whisper. "I…um…I met him right after I hit Greg. I think he's part of the reason I've felt like this just isn't working for me anymore. It's not just all the crap I feel when I'm at the company, it's all the crap I don't feel when I'm with him. I feel…" I trail off, not even sure how to explain it without sounding like I've lost it.
"Happy," she whispers.
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I feel happy. And terrified. And safe. And a million other things. But I just…I think I want to be where he is, Mom. I'm not giving up on dancing. I'm just choosing me, I guess."
"Oh, Sophie." She cups my cheeks, tears in her eyes. "You can have both, sweet girl. We'll find a place in Los Angeles for you. They'd be crazy not to take you."
"You think so?"
She makes this sound that's part disgust, part disbelief, like I just said something completely ridiculous. "Are you kidding me? You have one of the biggest fan bases in the dance world, baby girl. People love you because you're everything they say a ballerina shouldn't be. You're loud and bold and strong. You don't take shit, and you know what you deserve. People root for you because they've been told no a million times, too. But you were brave enough to keep pushing anyway. You taught peopleto dream big. The world didn't know your name when you started, but they'll never forget it now. Believe me, Soph, you'll find a company."
I cling to her, my throat tight. "I'm scared," I whisper.
"Do it anyway," she whispers back. "Do it for you and do it for the man who put that look on your face."
"I…" I inhale a deep breath and then exhale. "Okay. Let's do it."
Chapter Eleven
Harlan
By the time I'm out of practice on Wednesday, I'm ready to hit something. I don't even have a full twenty-four hours left until I see Sophie again, but I'm a fucking wreck.
Two days without her in my bed is two days too many. I'm losing my mind. We're on the phone as often as possible, but trying to find five minutes when we're both free is damn near impossible. Either she's busy with her shit, or I'm busy with mine.
I know it's fucking with her as much as it is me. I hear it in her voice when I talk to her. There's this distance there, like she's keeping something from me. It worries the fuck out of me. But she keeps swearing that everything is fine.
After she misses our planned call on my way home, I finally have enough and call Briggs. He's in Chicago. If there's something going on, if she's running again, he can find out for me.
"What's up, fucker?" he asks on the second ring.
"I need a favor," I growl, pacing around my living room. He owes me. He leaked the damn photos of me in that leotard and tutu. I've been catching nine kinds of hell at practice all week. I'm pretty sure the photo he took has been plastered all over the gossip sites all week, too.
My publicist, Emelia, is ready to kill me. She's working overtime, trying to dodge everyone who wants to know what kind of bet I had with Sophie and if the two of us are together. I'm ready to tell them all that I'm marrying her…but I'm trying to make sure I've got my ring on her finger first. Just to make sure she doesn't kill me for telling the world before I've even told her.
"If this has anything to do with our mother, count me out," Briggs says. "I've reached my limit of dealing with her."
"It has nothing to do with her." I don't even think about that woman unless I'm forced to. She has no place in my life. The best thing I ever did was block her goddamn number after Hattie told her to fuck off out of our lives. "It's about Sophie."
"Ah." I hear the grin in his voice. "I heard that she quit her dance company."
That draws me up short. "She what?"
Briggs goes silent. "Shit. You didn't know."
"No," I choke out, grasping the back of the couch to keep myself upright. What the fuck? "When?"
"Hattie told me this morning. I guess she walked into practice yesterday morning and told them she was done."
Jesus Christ.
Why didn't she tell me? My heart clenches, icy fear like a goddamn knot in my stomach. This is why she's seemed off. This is what she's been hiding. Why?
I don't know, but I intend to find out. If keeping this from me is her way of trying to push me away again, it's not going to fucking work. She doesn't get to run again. She doesn't get to claim my whole fucking heart and then act like it isn't hers. Hell no.
"I need to go," I growl.
"Go where?"