Anita finished setting up the refreshment table and turned to get a few more chairs and another flat of bottled water from the storage closet.
Thump bump skreeeeeek.
She turned sharply. The sound at the door. How? It was practically the middle of the day. Okay, more early evening, but still far from the witching hour. Her hands balled into fists, she quickly approached the door and flung it open.
Nothing. No one was there, just a few pedestrians on the other side of the street window shopping in the late afternoon on Main Street.
Anita rolled her eyes. Workaholism was driving her insane. Either that or she needed to call an exterminator. Ew.
Knock knock.
This time, though, it was coming from the small practice room on the other side of the check-in desk. They did not use it often, mostly for overflow or for private lessons while there was a group class in the main studio. Anita had been wondering if she should try to rent it out for yoga.
No one would be in there.
Okay, she had to check it out. It was her responsibility, her duty.
Please don’t be rats please don’t be rats please don’t—
Anita gasped.
STAY AWAY
Someone had scrawled the words in what looked like dark-red lipstick across the mirror in large, jagged strokes. It was so angry, so pointless.
Tears rose to her eyes.Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
But her body did not obey.
“Stay away from what?”
There was no answer in the silent studio, just the occasional beep and hum of a passing car out on the street, and the rush of March wind rattling the windowpanes.
Anita wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed.
****
Patrick returned fifteen minutes later with the catering only to find Anita, blanched white, scrubbing furiously at the mirror in the practice room. “Anita?”
She spun around and brandished the glass-cleaning bottle at him. She must have recognized him, though, because her bravado almost instantly deflated, and she crumpled onto the floor.
He rushed toward her.
“What the fuck happened?” He had never seen her like this. Never. Never once had the goddess fallen apart in front of him.Please don’t let her be sick.Then, which was almost worse and made him want to vomit and scream and hurl blunt objects—please don’t let it be me. Don’t let her rethink this partnership. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Her sides heaved. He knelt beside her, a hand on her shoulder. If only he could suck the pain away. “I’m sorry, someone wrote ‘stay away’ all over this mirror, and I freaked out. It’s stupid, I’m sorry.” She sniffed, not looking at him.
“Don’t be sorry.” He glanced at the mirror. She had almost finished cleaning it. He could see a few streaks of red, but the words had been erased. “That sounds horrifying. Who would have done that? Did they break into the studio?”
She shrugged, the gesture so helpless that it made him want…he didn’t know. Something. A white horse, maybe. Or a large cup of coffee.“Hey, Anita,” he said softly. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming and red-rimmed. How could he resist? He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It’s all right. I’m here now.” Her skin was so soft, so warm, wet from her tears but brimming with life underneath it.
He needed to stop, to shove it back down like he always did. This was not the time, no matter how badly he wanted her. He always wanted her,hadalways wanted her.
Anita sniffed, nodding. “Thank you. Really.” She met his eyes briefly and tried to smile. “I feel like I’m being silly. Maybe this wasn’t even meant for me.”
“Well, Ricardo is a bit of a cad.” Patrick tried to smile. Of course, it had been for her. But why? The worst thing she had ever done was date assholes. That did not mean she deserved to be threatened.
No one deserved that.
