“When did that happen?” Walter asked.
“Just finalized the deal two days ago, while traveling cross-country,” Roan said.
Grace set down her dish towel carefully. “Roan, you know Reese Monroe owns the dance studio right next door, don’t you?”
Roan kept his voice even, but his grip tightened on his beer bottle. “Yeah. I know.”
Grace and Walter stared at him. Ice shifted in the freezer with a soft crack.
“I saw it when I was researching the property,” Roan said. “Sugarplum Dance Studio. I Googled it. Read reviews. Looked at photos of her teaching classes.” He paused. “That’s actually part of why I made the offer.”
“Oh, Roan,” Grace said.
“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly. “I’m not some stalker. I just … I’ve kept track of her over the years. Not obsessively. Once in a blue moon, I’d Google her name. See how her career was going. When I found out she’d retired from professional ballet and opened a studio in Sugarville Grove, I was surprised. She once told me that, if she ever escaped this place and her father, she’d never come back.”
“You know he passed away?” Grace asked. “Ten years now. Heart attack. His wife claimed it was the stress of the bank.”
“Yes, I heard that,” Roan said. “What about her mom?”
“She married someone new and moved to Texas,” Grace said. “Reese talks to her every so often, saying that her mom has a whole new life now.”
“Did you choose that gym specifically because she’d be next door?” Walter asked.
“It was the only available space that made sense.” Heat rose in his cheeks. “But she factored into the decision.” Roan looked down at his beer. “I’ve wanted to apologize to her for fifteen years. I’ve written emails I never sent. Letters I never mailed. Started driving to Vermont twice but turned around both times.” His voice roughened. “What I did to her … leaving without saying goodbye, missing prom, just disappearing … has haunted me. Every single day.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Roan continued, “but when I saw her studio was next to that gym, it felt like … I don’t know. A sign, maybe. That this was my chance to finally make it right.”
“And is that all you’re hoping for?” Walter asked. “Just an apology?”
“What else would there be?” Roan’s laugh was bitter. “I destroyed what we had. I’m not stupid enough to think there’s anything left to salvage. She’s probably moved on completely. Probably doesn’t even think about me anymore.”
“But you think about her,” Grace said. It wasn’t a question.
Roan was quiet for a moment. “Every relationship I’ve tried has failed because I keep comparing every woman to her. Every Christmas song reminds me of driving around here looking at lights with her. Every time I see someone dance, I think about her.” He rubbed his face. “I know it’s pathetic. Fifteen years is a long time to carry a torch for someone who probably hates me.”
“When you say she factored into your decision, what do you mean exactly?” Walter asked, sounding as if he were choosing his words very carefully.
“I came home because the injury forced my hand,” Roan said. “But, yeah, part of me needed to come back. Needed to face what I did. Even if all I get is her telling me to go jump in Little Bear Lake, at least I’ll have tried. At least I’ll have told her I’m sorry.”
“And if she doesn’t tell you to go to jump in the lake?” Grace asked.
Roan shook his head. “That’s not realistic. I stood her up at prom. I left without a word while she was probably in her dress waiting for me. I bailed on our plan to move to New York City. Why would she forgive that?”
“People change,” Grace said. “Hearts heal. Fifteen years is a long time. You guys were kids.”
Roan took a long drink of his beer. “Look, I’m not expecting anything. I’m not even hoping for anything beyond the chance to apologize face-to-face. I just … I need to do this. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else. I’m sure she’s long since moved on. Does she have a boyfriend? Anyone in her life?”
Grace and Walter exchanged another look.
“She’s not married,” Walter said. “No boyfriend that we know of.”
Roan’s heart kicked stupidly in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “That doesn’t mean anything. She’s probably focused on her business.”
“So there was no communication at all?” Grace asked.
Roan made a scoffing sound. “No. I didn’t leave much room for that.”
