Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Sure. And now I feel bad, snapping at you when you were just trying to do your job.” He twisted his full lips into something between a grimace and a smile. “It’s not your fault I’m exhausted from the weight of all these questions and expectations over my recovery. My own included.”
“It’s okay. I know a thing or two about expectations.” I slipped back into pep-talk mode. “You need to give yourself a break. You don’t always have to be perfect, and certainly not right now when you’re still healing.”
“Don’t I?” Alexander gave a harsh laugh.
“Sometimes perfect isn’t possible.” I met his steely blue gaze, trying to leave him with the wisdom I’d gained over the last year. “Maybe this is one of those times.”
“You’re very wise for a caterer.”
“I’m not—” I was about to correct him once and for all when a tall, elegant woman I recognized as Alexander’s twin sister appeared in the nearby doorway.
“Alexander? We need you for a photo.”
“Sorry. I’m being summoned.” Alexander hefted himself out of the chair, and back perfectly straight, he strode toward the door, no trace of the earlier pain he’d let me see. “Good luck with the rest of your shift.”
I let him go. I remained on the patio for several long minutes, studying the flames in the metal firepit. I’d finally met my crush as an adult, only to botch the whole thing with an embarrassing misunderstanding I was in no hurry to correct. Eventually, though, the chill of the evening air pushed me back inside, where my mother cornered me near the bar area.
“There you are.” My mom greeted me with a big hug. She’d arranged her short, wispy hair in whimsical spikes that made her look younger, as did the pink that had returned to her cheeks.
“Here I am.” I managed a smile for her. She wore a seasonally appropriate rust-colored dress, and like Waylon, a wrinkle would never dare grace her wardrobe.
“You look nice.” She stepped back to look me over with the eagle eyes of a woman who’d spent decades straightening ballet costumes and wiping dirt off little faces before performances. “A bit too ready to go knock on doors or offer appetizers, but nice. New shirt?”
“Yeah.” My cheeks heated. I was never buying another white shirt.
“Oh, there’s Alexander. I wonder if Tavio’s spoken with him yet.” Mom gestured across the room to where Alexander stood with his sister and their mother. “I so hope Alexander agrees to help us out. Did you want me to introduce you?”
“Later.” I made a vague gesture with my hand. At the start of the evening, I’d had every hope that Alexander would agree to my mother and Tavio’s bold plan to help the ballet school and struggling local company, but now, I was in the weird position of hoping Alexander declined. The sooner he pliéd his way back to Seattle, the sooner I could get over the case of mistaken identity.
Two
Variation: a solo in a classical ballet performance (such as The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake) that may contain adjustments from the standard choreography for the particular strengths of a dancer.
Alexander
I resisted the urge to shift my weight from side to side yet again as I surveyed the event space from the corner I’d staked out near the bar after enduring the requisite family picture-taking to commemorate my father’s milestone birthday. My mother and sister had finally stopped fussing over me to go attend to other, undoubtedly more amenable guests. I was no stranger to fancy events, but I simply wasn’t up to any sort of party socialization tonight.
You need to give yourself a break. You don’t always have to be perfect, and certainly not right now when you’re still healing.
The server earlier hadn’t been wrong, but I was Alexander Dasher, and a whole host of people counted on my perfection, including myself. Hell, letting the server see cracks in my mask and letting him boss me into sitting down was enough out of character. I’d performed on any number of sprains, strains, breakups, breakdowns, and more with no one knowing.
My job was to make the impossible look effortless, and I was damn good at that illusion. In a different mood, I would have charmed the server, turned his appreciative gaze into something a bit more flirty, and then walked away bolstered by the interaction. Instead, I’d had to summon all my energy to not limp toward Isabella, and I was left mulling over the server’s wisdom rather than contemplating how to charm him further.
As I wondered how much longer I’d need to endure the party, a familiar face discovered my hiding spot.
“Alexander!” Tavio, one of my oldest and dearest mentors, strode determinedly toward me. He was also a longtime family friend, and he’d tamed his bushy silver hair into submission and donned a typically elegant charcoal suit for the occasion. “I’ve been trying to catch you all evening.”