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Mom: Hi sweetie how are you?
Lex: Hi mom, good and you? How’s papi?
Mom: Good. Come over for dinner. I made rice and beans and picadillo
Lex: Tostones too?
I smile. Despite living more than half of her life here, my mom still keeps true to her Cuban roots. And when she cooks Cuban dinner, I’m there.
Mom: Of course
Lex: I’ll be there when I close the studio. You and papi can eat earlier if you want
Mom: We’ll wait for you
Lex: Thanks mom
After setting my phone aside and checking that the music is ready to go, I turn on the lights in the waiting room and flip the lock on the front door, turning the Open sign.
Dancing and teaching have always been what I’ve wanted. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d stand on my toes and spin around, waving my hands softly while I admired ballerinas. I still remember the day my mom told me she’d enrolled me in dance class. I thought she was lying. From that day forward, I lived and breathed dance. And I never forgot the sacrifice my parents made to take me each week to a different town so I could attend classes.
It’s part of the reason I dreamed of opening a studio in Hartville and giving children the chance to enjoy dance the way I did. Not every parent has the ability to travel somewhere else for their child to live their dream.
After my first class, I wave goodbye to the parents and greet the tap teacher who’s starting class right after mine. As I’m turning away from the waiting room, the door opens. I turn to greet the student when I see Hudson standing there.
His eyes stare at me with a lopsided smile before gazing down my body. I cross my arms, shifting on my feet. Not that my arms will cover my black leotard and pink tights. Thank goodness I’m also wearing my pink chiffon wrap skirt.
“How can I help you?” I arch a brow.
“I was coming to give you an update on the resort.” His hands slide into his pockets as his smile widens. “I like the look.”
“I’m working. Couldn’t you send me a text message?” I shake my head, ignoring his other comment.
“I wanted to see the studio.” He glances around. His honesty surprises me.
“Well, I’m not open for a tour at the moment. What did your friend say?” I don’t expect the price to be near our price range with the quick search I did on their website.
“He can give us a thirty percent discount for each suite.”
My eyebrows fly up, and Hudson smirks arrogantly.
“I told you he’d make us a great deal. Have more faith.”
“I’d still need to talk to the girls and make sure they’re okay with it.” Despite the discount, it’s still a bit more expensive than the other options.
“I understand. I’ve already mentioned it to Toby.”
“Okay. I need to get back to work.”
“Text me later then.” I lift my eyebrows and scrunch up my nose. “When you’ve talked to the girls and have an answer,” he adds quickly.
“Right,” I nod, turning away.
“Lex.” I turn when he calls my name.
“I’m proud of you.”
My heart skips a beat at the honesty reflecting in his eyes. I thought he’d think this was a joke after everything that happened and after I fought to stay in town when he demanded I move to New York with him. Maybe he can finally see that part of my dream of owning a dance studio had to do with Hartville, giving this town something that was all mine—not teaching just anywhere.
