“I would’ve loved something like that when I was younger.” Zoey leaned against the barre, folding her arms over her petite frame. “You should go for it. Maybe Madame would even let you share her studio space here.”
“Maybe.” Something to consider in the future.
If her future ever came. It all felt so far away right now. She had to leave. And who knew when—and in what condition—she’d be back?
“I heard one of the ballet students in my shop Saturday talking about how Barbie helped her learn first position.” Zoey shook her head with a smile. “I should’ve figured that was you.”
“I enjoy ballet now—it helps with learning grace and floor routines for my aerial performances.” Rosalyn looked up at her silks, could almost see herself inverting as an eleven-year-old. “As a child, though, I wasn’t conventional enough to stick with it.” Or maybe she hadn’t been good at it. She frowned.
“All of these sports are beyond me.” Zoey waved one hand in the air. “I’m flexible but have the grace of a monkey in quicksand. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”
“I’ll talk to Elisa.” Rosalyn went to the makeshift pulley and hoisted the silks back up toward the ceiling, out of the way of the upcoming class. “Maybe after Magnolia Days we could set something up.”
Zoey peered at Rosalyn from under her bangs, blue eyes wide with hope. “Will you still be here after the circus?”
“I’m, um…not entirely sure of my timeline yet.” Rosalyn tied off the pulley rope. “But I’m sure we could fit something in.” Maybe.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” Zoey lifted one hand in a wave as she opened the studio door. “And hey, whenever you need a sweet treat, stop by the shop. On the house.”
Rosalyn smiled her appreciation, waving as Zoey slipped into the morning sunlight. The dark-haired woman painted an appealing picture—girls’ night outs, teaching kids, eating beignets. A “normal” life. One without the flash of cameras and pressure of performing. Without fame and obligations to the wrong kinds of people.
She definitely didn’t want to go back to performing Blaine’s gigs, but more than that—she didn’t know if she wanted to go back to performing atall. Eventually, her loan would be paid back. The divorce would go through. She’d be free to make her own choices again—to perform because shewantedto, not because she had to.
And then what?
What did she want?
Rosalyn glanced up at her silks, bittersweet longing flooding her heart. When had the fabric that used to symbolize freedom—freedom from convention, from propriety and rules and clichés—become her cage?
After a moment, she slipped out of the studio and stood under the awning, poised to lock the door behind her. Unusual that Madame Paulette would be gone this long—the guy must have been more handsome than she’d anticipated. Only Lettie.
Rosalyn looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of Madame’s flowing caftan, no hint of patchouli wafting through the air. Oh well.
She twisted the key in the lock, double-checked the knob, and dropped the ring into her purse. She’d started up the sidewalk toward home when a siren sounded.
A police car veered down Bayou Boulevard, lights flashing.
fourteen
“Ican’t believe Mama D called you.” Cade dropped his duffel on the bench in the corner of the gym as Linc scowled beside him. The musty scent of sweat mixed with body spray met Cade’s nose as he plopped down next to his bag.
Noah grinned as he sat on the other end and leaned over to retie his training shoe. “I can’t believe Linc answered.”
“And I can’t believe she ordered me to hang out with Cade.” Linc stood over them, crossing his arms over his black muscle tank. “Like I have time for babysitting at the end of crawfish season.”
“You obviously have time to work out.” Noah sat up and gestured to the rows of dumbbells, elliptical machines, and weight racks spanning the black and red painted room.
Linc scowled harder, shooting a glance at the wall clock at the back of the gym, half-hidden behind a CrossFit competition banner. “I make time for what matters.”
“So your next personal record matters, but not your friends?” Cade shook his head in mock disgust as he pulled a pair of wristbands from his bag. “Pity.”
Linc flexed his biceps. “Is it?”
Noah winced as he stood. “All right, I’m convinced. Show me what you’ve been doing.”
They followed Linc to the rack, where he’d already loaded several weights on the bar for bench press. “You’ll want to take some of those off.”
“Let me try.” Cade pulled one arm across his chest in a stretch, then the other, before straddling the bench. “I’ve been out of the gym the last several weeks, but I’m not a stranger to it.”
