Whatever the reason for her lack of sleep, it was a Pat Benatar kind of morning for sure. Anita stood in front of the studio mirror, stretching out her neck, her arms, her hips, her ankles, massaging away the fog of fatigue.
She heard Patrick singing in a falsetto and turned to watch him lip sync like a contestant on a fake game show. He had his eyes shut tight, a coffee cup as microphone held to his lips, and a ridiculous grin on his face. Classic Patrick. She fought the smile,but something about the lines of his face mirrored something from her dream last night and—
Suppress. Suppress. Red Alert.
“You’re not making fun of Pat Benatar, are you?” She crossed her arms over her chest and affected a wounded posture. Normal day, normal Patrick. No X-rated fantasies here. Nope.
“Nah.” He smiled. “I’ve done a mean cha-cha to ‘Invincible’ once or twice.”
“Is that for me?” She nodded to the coffee cups in his hands, and he handed one over to her. Their hands brushed, and oh my God, was she on fire?Get a grip, Anita.She affected a bland smile. “Thanks. I swear, I’m going to give up the coffee eventually.”
“You can’t give up all your bad habits.” Patrick perched on one of the chairs and pulled out his dance shoes. “Then you’ll be even more perfect, and you won’t let me be your friend anymore.”
“That’s not true. Who would remind me of my awkward teen years?” Sweet how he always remembered how she liked her coffee. She knew his order, too. Splash of almond milk, or an americano when available. One time at a competition in Vienna, they had ordered eight different types of coffee drinks and lined them up on the table. They had practically buzzed off the walls after that.
“You never had awkward teen years.” He tied his shoes in neat, taut bows. He really did have the best hands. “Hey, is there Zumba this morning?”
“Not on Wednesdays. Why?”
Anita had never seen a person literally turn green, but Patrick’s face had a definite hue. “I ran into Melanie Templeton and her friend Kim at Amore this morning.”
Patrick had always liked lanky blondes, though she had not expected Melanie’s patina to appeal. Anita rubbed at a pang in her chest. Maybe she was getting an ulcer. “Oh?”
“Yeah. She’s a bit much, Melanie. I thought she was married.”
Patrick had talked to Melanie? “I think so. Her husband does some sort of finance thing in Philadelphia. I understand he’s away a lot. Toni told me she saw Melanie and some other guy looking very cozy at a bar in Devon a few months ago.” Wow, she needed to tone it down. Anita never deigned to gossip or cattiness. Stupid weird letter thing. Still, she could not resist. Maybe if she could get a good night’s sleep— “Are you interested?”
“Hard pass.”
The tension in her shoulders eased. “Well, you haven’t really dated anyone in a while, right? After Gabriella, there was, what? Eva, Emma, Tatiana. You broke up with Tatiana a year ago, Patrick.” She fiddled with the dials on the stereo system. It did not matter who he was dating. Of course it didn’t. She needed to ask, that was all. As a friend.
He did not reply. She turned, and her breath caught in her throat. He was so close to her. When had that happened? Suede soles were quiet, but seriously, was he part angel?
“I’m doing just fine.” His gaze fixed on hers. An intoxicating heat rose deep within her at his proximity. Had she ever noticed before how beautiful his lips were? “Unless you want to talk about yourself, Anita.”
Shut it down, shut it down.She had to dance with him. She could not be fantasizing. “We’re wasting time gossiping,” she finally said. “Let’s start with cha-cha.”
Chapter Six
The day that had started with a promise of spring warmth had chilled into the threat of an ice storm. Anita belted her dark-blue winter coat against the descending frost and headed out of the studio to her little hatchback. She had set the alarm, hadn’t she? It wasn’t OCD if there was a potential threat. She could not miss Wednesday night dinner with her parents for anything. If someone wanted to leave her another weird letter, they could stick it through the mail slot.
Singing along to Hozier on the radio, Anita pulled in front of her parents’ stately Tudor mansion fifteen minutes later. Her family home was set deep into the Pennsylvania woods, with a circular driveway leading to the dark oak front door. Her mother must have heard the car in the driveway—she had already opened the front door and was leaning against the jamb. Marina’s dark-brown curly hair was silhouetted from the warm light within the house, her smile so bright that the starlight illuminated it. Anita stepped straight out of the car and into her mother’s arms, the scents of garlic and cinnamon and warm bread wrapping her up like a cozy cable blanket. They moved as one through the front door.
“It smells delicious.” Anita unbelted her coat, the warmth of the house in sharp contrast to the outside. Marina hung the coat from one of the elegant iron S hooks in the white-tiled foyer.
“Ah.” Her mother waved away the compliment. “Just a little bread and soup.”
No place like home.Anita followed her down the short hallway to the kitchen, dominated by a large white marble island and gleaming stainless-steel appliances. Bread and soup to her mom meant avgolemono and olive bread, both of which were Anita’s favorites and Marina painstakingly made from scratch.
Her mother’s internal Cypriot mainly manifested when she cooked or entertained. Patrick had practically been a second son in high school and college. Marina would stuff him full of grape leaves, loukoumades, kebab, and pasta.
Seriously, she needed to stop thinking about Patrick. If only for the sake of her dreams.
“Where’s Dad?” Anita asked, standing at the kitchen island. She had slipped off her shoes at the front door and loved the way the cool, gray cork floor felt under her stockinged toes.
Marina shook her head with a laugh, and she opened the refrigerator for a bottle of wine. “He took a job teaching at Drexel two days a week. The man does not know how to retire.”
“But on a Wednesday? That’s my dinner day.” Anita pursed her lips slightly as her mom filled two glasses with Sancerre. It wasn’t totally out of character for him to miss a golden opportunity to harangue her into considering med school again. Like she would.
