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“Huh,” I grunted. “I guess I have at least one thing to thank her for.”
Hope shook her head vigorously. “I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. You don’t owe her anything. I hope you know that?”
Smiling wryly, I admitted. “I have my accountant working out what I’d owe. Minus inflation. Minus interest.”
“Are you kidding me?” she whispered. “Ares, you don’t-”
One look at my face stopped her words in her throat.
“I cannot be tied to her.”
Her eyes skittered over my face as compassion engulfed her features. “You do what you have to do. Do you, uh, have that kind of money?”
“It’s not as much as I thought it would be. I only calculated the expense for art and photography lessons, extra-curricular activities, gas to get me there and back, anything other than food, clothing, and shelter. I own my home free and clear. I have savings.”
She pressed her cheek hard against my chest, her hand splayed over my heart, she repeated, “You do what you have to do. Will you have to meet up with her to do it?”
“Not a fucking chance. My father will call soon. It’s almost Christmas. And I’ll meet up with him. It was his fucking money in the first place, not hers. She never worked a day in her life.”
Her fingers pressed into my skin. She shifted her weight to cover me, pushing closer. “I’m sorry she’s such a monster. You deserved better. You did so well for yourself despite her. Despite him. Your mother must be so proud.”
The air escaped from my lungs.
Empty.
Cavernous.
A gaping wound.
A black hole.
Somehow, I managed to speak. My voice a harsh rasp I’d never heard before. “Do you think so?”
She pressed her lips to my heart. “I know I would be.”
Hope
My mind reeled with Ares’ revelations the night before. Not just what he told me, but the fact that he shared at all. I expected communication with him to be reminiscent of the cave man days. Who knew all I had to do was take off my clothes to break the dam?
I wanted nothing more than to get back to him, but work was a disaster. The effects of Ratcliffe’s resignation and the shake up with the board of directors rippled through the entire organization. Everyone worked late, and the directives just kept coming.
Between going in early and coming out late, I hadn’t seen the sunshine in days. And the long days made for shorter tempers.
Two weeks of scheduled vacation guaranteed me a break from the chaos. By the time I returned to work after Christmas, the dust would have settled. And without Ratcliffe around, I planned to wrestle my schedule into submission.
Nights like this where I worked through dinner and raced to make it to dance practice on time would be a thing of the past.
Beeping the car locks on my keychain, I rounded the lot at a run and threw open the door to the practice space. Ten minutes later than I should have.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late!” I called. The girls sat in a loose circle on the parquet floor. “Huge shake-up at work.” I shed my coat and hung it up on a hook. I smiled as I crossed over to them. “I’m so happy I made it.”
The tension didn’t fully register until I sat down.
“What’s going on?”
The ensuing discussion left me equal parts sad and angry.
Inside, the warm flooring, soft lighting, and wall to wall mirrors, made for its own little world. One I’d long been comfortable in.
