I shivered as all the worst-case scenarios, as the crushing guilt that would follow came down on my head.
However.
I wouldn’t be gettingtogetherwith Logan. I would be performing a Christmassy dance routine. That would be it. We would not become red-hot boyfriend-girlfriend again.
I wanted to do it. I wanted to dance with Logan. I wanted to see him, hold him, and be close to him. I wanted to be with him. I had been so lonely for so very long.
“I know you’re busy, Bellini. You’ve got so much going on. Planning the show is a full-time job, plus the bar, writing your Roxy Belle books—”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” He looked…surprised. As if he were waiting to hear me say no, but then I’d said yes. His handsome, hard-jawed face lit up.
“Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll dance with you.” I smiled. Couldn’t help it. My whole soul felt like it was taking off. It would probably fly up to Santa’s North Pole and greet the elves. “It’ll be fun. You’re right.”
“I think it will be, too.” His smile softened that toughened face, and we didn’t move.
Icouldn’tmove. I stared at him, feeling delight spreading through my whole body.
“Okay, then,” he said. His voice was quiet, calm.
“When do you want to practice?” I asked.
“When do you have time? I’ll call Mrs. Kerns and see if we can hire her for private lessons. She’ll know what to do.”
Wow. He had this figured out already. Not surprising. When we were dating, he was always a step ahead of me. I’d be daydreaming a lot, thinking about art or writing stories or debate club or kissing him, and then we would talk about going on a date or to prom or weekend plans—and he would have everything figured out. “That would be perfect. I love Mrs. Kerns.” I paused. “But I am scared of her, too.”
“Everyone’s scared of her. I’ll call you with practice dates, and we’ll be ready for the burlesque show, although I’m still a little confused about what ‘burlesque’ means.”
“No one knows what it means. I get questions every day.” I thought I heard Santa’s bells as my heart hammered away.
We were near the gazebo, the town quiet, a snowman standing guard. Logan took a step closer, put one arm around my waist, grasped my hand in his other hand, and spun me around, the snow fluttering down on us. I gazed up at him. He did have the aura of a motorcycle gang leader, but I knew howkind he truly was. “I’ll lead,” I told him, then put our clasped hands up and made him twirl like a ballerina.
Soon, we were waltzing, then showing off our salsa steps and a bit of jazz, and we found our groove, our beat, our rhythm, and it was as if we’d never stopped dancing together. I smiled up at him, and he smiled down at me, and we knew what next step the other would take without words. We danced like we were one dancer.
And therein lay the problem.
20
Logan
Finally, he would get to spend time with Bellini. “Self-torture,” he muttered in his loft that night. His eyes went to the Roxy Belle books on his shelf. He’d bought and read all of them. It was a little pathetic, he knew that. But it was like having a little piece of Bellini with him. He could see into her life, through the life of Roxy Belle. If he had read these books when he was a kid, they would have brought him a lot of laughter, which he’d desperately needed while living with his father.
He knew it would hurt to be with Bellini again, to dance with her, hold her, laugh with her. But he wanted to dance with Bellini again, just like they had tonight near the snowman. It was as if they’d never stopped dancing. Their beat, their rhythm, it was all still there. He knew what step she’d take; she knew what step he would take. It was like they were one dancer. He had even let her twirl him like a ballerina, and then he’d twirled her.
He wanted to see her, hold her, be close to her. He wanted to be with her. He had been lonely for years. What was the word? Helongedto be with her. He longed for the friendship and laughter and passion and conversation. He wanted to be around her sarcastic and funny humor, her honesty and quirkiness, her anxieties and worries, and her sharp insightfulness about life and people.
He wanted to go to dinner with her and watch romance movies—because that’s what she liked to watch. He wanted to hold her hand and then go to bed at night and know that the person he most wanted to be with was right there beside him.
He had hoped that she had changed, that she was no longer the girl he’d fallen in love with, and he could put her out of his mind and his heart, but that hadn’t happened.
He corrected himself. Of course, she’d changed. She’d been through a terrible time with her ex-husband, a divorce, and, worse, a miscarriage. He stopped on that and sighed. He knew her. He knew how losing a baby would have broken her. It would have broken him had it been his baby with Bellini. The grief would have been overwhelming for both of them. His eyes filled, then he blinked the tears away.
He would spend time with her, go to dance lessons, be in the T and A Christmas show…and then she would leave and go back to Oregon, and he would stay here in Montana. Crushed.
Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he willingly walking himself into a brick wall of pain? He knew how they would end. Bellini had pushed him away years ago. He still didn’t understand why. He wanted to know, and maybe they would get to the point where he could ask her and get an honest answer, but she’d left him before, and she was clearly going to leave again, breaking him wide open.
His shoulders slumped, and he ran both hands up and down his face.
