Page 11 of The Lies Between Lovers

“You’re right. We can get back to this conversation later, as pointless as it is,” he muttered under his breath while he turned toward the crowd a hundred or so paces up the hill before adding louder, “so let’s head to the plot with the others, hmm?”

“No.”

The fast swerve of his upper body swinging back around to face her said he hadn’t been expecting that strong of a rebuttal.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“I said no, and that’s enough,” Vera repeated. “And I meant it, Feliks. I am quitting, and frankly, it doesn’t matter if I spend the next three years holed up in my home alone in the dark like a hermit as long as I don’t have to spend another goddamn minute anywhere near you.”

He started to laugh lightly. “Vera, come on now, don’t be like—”

“You have until the new year to find someone to replace me, or not. I really don’t care at this point about what happens once I leave. I’ll let the kids know I won’t be teaching anymore after the winter holidays, but I’ll leave the rest up to you.”

“I don’t think you understand what that means.”

Didn’t she?

“Feliks, I am done with The Swan House, with ballet, and with you. I don’t know how I can be any clearer than I have been at this point.”

“The free program will end,” he murmured.

“If that’s what you think will have to happen.”

“The donations will also come to a stop, then. Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to know that because you never cared much about the financial side of things where the company was concerned, but the cash flow will end. The biggest portion of it, anyway. The free programs draw in the donors; every event, the balls and dinners. Vera, it all pays the bills, and not just yours. Or don’t you understand that?”

“You don’t want me to leave because I bring in money?”

“A lot of it, Vera. Tens of millions every year.”

Shocker.

She bet that would be hard on the bank, and the company as a whole.

She’d known the donations that stemmed from her program and the events to fund said programs drew in wealthy donors, but because her students and classes always had everything they needed without question, Vera never dug too deep into the details.

Maybe she should have.

Was that it?

She was just a cash cow for the company?

“I love those kids,” she told him.

Feliks released a huff of air, palming the back of his neck as he focused on the ground under his shined shoes. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“No, but it does to me. And that’s the point. I love those kids; I get up every day and go to The Swan House despite the pit I get in my stomach when I walk through the doors and the phantom pain I feel shooting up my leg every time I dance. I go there to see those kids so that they know someone cares about them, even if it is for two hours a handful of times a week. I go there for them, wishing I didn’t feel like I was constantly trying not to cry, because a part of me thinks they need me, too.”

“Again,” he said dryly, “I’m really not sure what that’s supposed to mean to—”

“The fact that everything I just said means nothing to you says everything to me. Maybe I don’t ever want to dance again. Or maybe I just don’t want to have to deal with being there anymore. Or hell, maybe it’s just you. It also doesn’t matter because it doesn’t make me happy, and I can’t make other people feel something I no longer do. You have until the new year,” she repeated, standing from the bench while her shaking fists clenched tight at her sides, “I’ll stay that long.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Feliks tried to say.

“I don’t think you do, actually. I’m not going to say it again.”

“I can’t let you quit. I don’t have the funding or the capital to keep the place afloat without the donations that come with your name attached to the company, Vera.”

Too bad for him.