LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2) (18 page)

After that painful start to the day, things looked up . . . if I discounted the hole in my heart that Seth had left, the constant ache of absence. Seth was my phantom limb. I missed him and felt his presence even though he wasn’t there and wasn’t coming back.

I had to let him go.

I had to stop thinking about him.

How the fuck did I do that when every breath Sarah took reminded me of him?

Sarah and I had lived on tour together for so long, that we soon fell back into our easy friendship, razzing on each other, joking, talking about music, about dance. It was all on the surface, but we both needed the space to just be friends again.

She wanted to see the show, and I was happy for her to come see me, although slightly less happy that she wanted to meet the cast.

“I’ve
missed
being with other dancers,” she whined. “Why wouldn’t you want me to meet them?”

I shrugged. “They’ll be surprised.”

Her lips curved in a sly smile. “I bet they will.”

I didn’t hang out with the other dancers or the singers much because I’d spent most of my free time with Seth, but they’d all met him.

I wondered again about telling her the full truth. I chickened out. Again.

The show went well—slick, no hiccups. I was pleased with it, even though it didn’t have the shocking originality of
Slave
, but it wasn’t performing by numbers either. The cast were too professional, too passionate for that.

They all knew I had a friend in the audience tonight, because Kathryn had mentioned it before we went on stage. So when Alice suggested we all go for drinks after, everyone was in. Except me. But they weren’t going to let me say no.

“We hardly ever see you outside work,” Alice complained when I finally agreed. “I’m starting to think I must have B.O. or something. Is Seth going to meet us at the pub?”

God, hearing his name . . .

“We broke up.”

“Oh!” Alice’s eyes widened with concern. “I’m really sorry to hear that. You looked so good together.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

She patted my arm. “Never mind. Plenty more fish in the sea. Did I tell you that my brother is gay?”

Oh my God
.

“Thanks, but I’m not really looking right now.”

“Sure, another time then.”

Sarah was waiting for us at the pub, happy to be invited, happy to be surrounded by dancers again.

She snuggled next to me, enjoying the quizzical looks of the rest of the cast.

They’d all heard about
Slave
, but of course none of them had been able to see it because if you’re
in
a show, you hardly ever get to see anyone else perform.

We talked about the show and Sarah’s role, my role, and how Ash had come up with the idea. When touring the show again was discussed, Sarah was silent, her expression wistful. I hadn’t even thought of that—she wouldn’t be able to be in
Slave
when we toured next year. She’d be . . . I counted discreetly on my fingers . . . eight or nine months pregnant.
Sranje!
I’d be on tour when the baby was born.

Alice offered to get in the next round of drinks while I sat there, numb with shock.

“What would you like, Sarah?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. I’ll stick to water.”

“Not even one drink? Are you driving?”

“No, I’m pregnant,” she announced happily.

I tensed up next to her and I’m sure she must have felt it.

“Congratulations,” said Alice, kindly. “Is daddy-to-be a dancer, as well?”

Sarah looked like a fawn caught in the headlights as a truck sped toward her.

We hadn’t discussed telling people—who or what we’d tell them—but seeing her worried expression, I felt guilty at putting her through that.

“Yes, he is,” I said, putting my arm around her. “We’re very excited about it.”

They all stared at me, Alice’s mouth gaping like a fish.

“Um, I’m a bit confused here. Are you saying that
you’re
the father, Luka?”

“That’s right.”

“Turkey baster job?” asked Ben.

“No, the old fashioned way,” I said, sinking the rest of my whiskey in one gulp.

“But . . .”

I raised my eyebrows at Alice’s stuttering question.

“But . . . aren’t you gay?”

“No.”

“But . . .”

“I’m bi.”

“Buy?”

“As in bisexual.”

“Oh, but you . . . I . . . well, then . . .”

Sarah picked up her pint glass of water and drank it in one go.

“Oh look, I’ve finished my water. Luka, would you get me another one while I go to the loo?”

As we walked away, I could feel the stares bouncing off my shoulders.

“You told them!” hissed Sarah, grabbing my arm.

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” I said, standing still and cupping her chin with my hand. “We’re having a baby. That changes everything.”

Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Oh fucking hell, Luka! Stop being so nice to me! It’s playing merry hell with my hormones. Oh God, I really do have to pee now.”

And she rushed off, wiping her eyes.

SARAH’S PHONE RANG.
And rang, and rang.

She stared like she’d found a snake in her purse.

“Nope, definitely not.”

“Is it your mother again?”

“Yep.”

“You have to tell her sometime.”

“Yeah, well I was thinking in about another six months would be good. ‘Oh, this baby? Well, I was out shopping and he looked so cute, so I brought him home.’ Do you think that would work?”

“Sure,” I said, kissing the top of her head as I put a cup of decaf tea in front of her. “But she might notice over the Christmas holidays.”

“Oh God, I know. I have to tell her.”

“Will she be mad?”

“Have you seen
Mad Max
?”

“Mel Gibson?”

“Yes. You know that scene where he chains this guy to a car that’s going to explode and gives him a hacksaw to cut off his own leg? They modeled that scene on my mother.”

I laughed. “She can’t be that bad.”

“Yes, she can. She’s scary,” then her voice dropped. “But mostly, she’ll be so disappointed in me.”

“How can she be disappointed in you? You’re an amazing dancer, beautiful, funny . . .”

“Trust me, Luka. She’d be much happier seeing me married to a dentist and living in the suburbs before I pop out a couple of kids. This . . .” and she pointed her finger between us, “this isn’t in the plan.”

“So, she makes a new plan.”

“You make it sound so simple. I have to woman-up, don’t I?”

I wrinkled my forehead and took a deep breath.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Oh God, yes!! YES! YES!! YESSSSSS! I was
so
hoping you’d say that.”

“Fine, I’ll come. But if she tries to cut off my balls with a rusty knife, I’m counting on you to save me.”

“Oh, there won’t be anything rusty in my mother’s house. But if she brings out a hacksaw, run.”

I laughed, but the thought of meeting Sarah’s mother and seeing the disappointment in her eyes wasn’t something I looked forward to. And I remembered what Seth had told me about her. They were close now, but when he’d come out, she hadn’t talked to him for two months.

Sarah picked up her phone and walked into the bedroom to make the call. I scooped up a pile of laundry that I’d hidden behind her couch and stuffed it into the washing machine.

Sarah was pale, but with a determined set to her mouth when she walked back in.

“How’d it go?”

“She definitely smells a rat. She knows something is up. Part of me wanted to tell her on the phone so I didn’t have to look at her. But she deserves better than that.” She sighed. “But I called Seth and told him to be there. I thought backup would be a good idea.”

My heart stuttered when she said his name. I thought I’d been doing a great job in denial, but hearing his name, the pain was as fresh as ever.

Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think. He’ll remind you of . . . that guy. Shall I tell him not to come?”

I grit my teeth as I turned away from her searching eyes.

“No, it’s fine.”

It really, really wasn’t.

Mrs. Lintort’s house was in an upscale part of southwest London, set in a large garden with mature trees that backed onto one of the royal parks. Expensive.

My eyes widened as the taxi pulled up, and Sarah clutched my hand.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, but I didn’t miss the nervous tremor in her voice, or the way her pulse jumped in her throat.

I’d seen this woman stand in front of an audience of a thousand people, claiming her place in the spotlight. Seeing her so unsure was a surprise, and I felt a surge of protectiveness toward her.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side.

“Together, okay?”

She relaxed a fraction.

“Oh, thank God,” she said. “Seth’s here.”

I saw his white Mercedes parked in the wide gravel driveway, and a bolt of electricity zapped through me.

Either he’d been waiting for us or he’d just arrived.

I watched as he unfolded his long body from the car, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at me with my arm around his sister, and then his face fell into that studied blankness that I’d seen at the restaurant earlier in the week.

He opened his arms, and Sarah ran into them.

His sister.

Not me.

It’s never going to be me ever again.

My heart burned, shriveling into a hard ball of pain.

“The Cavalry’s here,” he laughed, hugging her tightly.

“I’m so glad!” Sarah cried out. “I’m dreading this. You know what she’s like.”

“She’ll be fine,” Seth said soothingly. “Well, shocked as hell, but she knows you almost never bring boyfriends home,” and he winced imperceptibly on the word, “so she’s already guessed it’s something important.”

I stood awkwardly, watching them together, feeling very much the outsider. I wondered if Seth would have ever introduced me to his mother, whether he’d ever have acknowledged me like that. We’d dated nearly three months, and I don’t know if he’d ever mentioned my name to her.

I had to push those thoughts away. Besides, it would have made today impossibly harder.

Sarah turned and grinned at me.

“I hope you don’t mind Seth being here—he’s her favorite, so . . .”

“What?! I could never get away with anything when we were kids! You’re the one who had Mum wrapped around her little finger.”

“As if!” Sarah laughed, then looked at me sheepishly. “Um, not to freak you out or anything, Luka, but Mum’s a bit . . . old fashioned. She’s bound to ask if we’re getting married, but don’t worry, I’ll handle that question.”

Before I had more than a second to gape at her, the door swung open, and a handsome, severe woman with auburn hair was smiling down at us.

“Seth, darling!” she said. “What a lovely surprise! Hello, Sarah, and Luka, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t help thinking that her voice sounded like one of those old British movies that they made during the War: sharp enough to cut glass.

She hugged her children, then shook hands with me.

“
Enchanté
, Mrs. Lintort.”

I handed her the white tulips that I’d bought for her, and she gave me a tight smile.

Was it the way I was dressed, the wrong flowers, or the fact that I was here at all?

Sarah grabbed my hand, and her mother’s eyes narrowed as she glanced down at Sarah’s ringless fingers. I saw her throw a questioning glance at Seth.

From that moment, I was 100% certain that this wasn’t going to go well.

Sarah led me into a formal sitting room, where large cream couches congregated around a pale oak coffee table that must have weighed a quarter of a ton.

Two vases full of professionally arranged flowers graced the mantel over the fireplace, making my tulips look meager and underwhelming.

She waved us into seats and chatted about Seth’s work while tea was served in flowery teacups—there was no offer of coffee—and tiny, doll-size sandwiches were arranged on delicate serving dishes.

Sarah piled a few on a plate for me, and I was just about to take a bite when her mother pounced.