32. Sunday

THIRTY-TWO

"You want I go gut him?" Nika asks as she hands me a coffee. I chuckle even though it's hollow.

"Thank you, Nika, but I would fear for your inmates in prison if you were to get caught." I pat the old woman's arm.

"Caught? What is? I have never been caught. Stefa, you tell your friends! Twenty-seven men go into my village. How many come out? Nula." She slices her old hand through the air across her neck. "Stefa know, she tell you. Baka Nika most wanted, never caught."

"Yes, yes, mama, enough," Zora says calmly. Her voice is rich like Stevie's, though she also holds a Croatian accent and is not as thick as Nika's. Zora is in her fifties with salt and pepper hair tied back in a bun, Stevie's blue eyes, and a similar figure. Zora spends most of her time in the back baking or wrangling Nika to stop her from scaring the customers off with stories that may or may not be true about her life in Croatia.

Nika stares directly at me, then looks at all the women: Stevie, Janie, Ren, and even Indy have gathered at Nuts about Dough to console me and talk about how much shit Ash ain't, according to Janie.

"Listen to Nika,"

"Maaaa…" Stevie groans, then hisses when Nika smacks her upside the head.

"Stefa, you didn't listen to Baka. Now see where you are." I watch Stevie's gaze fall to her drink before Nika speaks again. "Men good for one thing, and it takes no minutes to get." Janie snorts into her drink and starts coughing.

"Sorry, Baka," she says through her fit.

"You need them for babies. After babies, useless. Houseplant is of more use. Better to look at too. You need the house plant chopped? I chop," she says firmly before spinning on her heel and heading back to the kitchen with Zora.

Janie is the first to break the silence. "If I don't end up like her when I grow up, I will be so disappointed."

Stevie snorts. "What? Batshit crazy?"

"Yes…" Janie sighs dreamily.

"She hasn't really killed twenty-seven men, has she?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer. Stevie shrugs and takes a sip of her drink.

"I have no proof either way, except her stories never change. I've just decided there are certain things that I'll sleep better at night, not knowing."

I nod, "Yeah, that's true." I hear Indy's phone go off, and she groans before silencing it. "Him?" I ask, and Indy nods.

"Sorry." I shrug. Ash has been blowing us all up all day, trying to reach me. I watch Janie's phone light up.

"Oh, he must be desperate," Janie snorts, and I laugh softly. It's true, though. Janie is not the person you want to call if you wronged someone close to her. I groan and drop my head on the table as she picks up the phone.

"Hello?" she says sweetly. "Oh my god! Ash! How are you?"

"Kill me…" I whine as Indy and Stevie rub my back in sympathy.

"Sunday? Oh! Sunday Sutton! Yeah, I'm familiar with her. Why?" Ren smirks and even though I can't make out the words, I can hear Ash's voice getting louder and more frantic.

"Ohhhh, you want to talk to her? Well, it's the twenty-first century, and surely, she has a phone. Uh-huh… Oh dear, she's not answering! My god! How dare a woman not answer when a man calls upon her!" Janie snickers as she holds the phone from her ear. We can all hear Ash's muffled shouts through the phone when she does.

"Okay, okay, seriously," Janie says in her normal voice. "She won't answer you? Okay, well, here's what I would try, and you know it might not work, but have you thought about going and fucking off? Because I feel like–" She looks down at her phone in confusion. "He hung up on me! How rude."

"You're an asshole," Ren laughs as she sips on her tea before looking at me. "How are you, babe? Seriously?"

I let out a breath. "Like I'd rather be reliving the worst parts of my life than dealing with this. My heart is broken. Wade is broken. And the worst part is, it's not his fault. It's mine. I knew what I was getting into with this. He told me, and I stupidly thought I could change him. I thought maybe he would want those things if he met the right woman. And… maybe he will, but apparently, I'm not her." I clear my throat to stop yet another sob session from starting. Fuck, I didn't even cry this much giving birth.

"He does care about you," Indy says softly while patting my arm. "You and Wade mean so much to him. He's just scared."

"I know, and part of me understands that. But what if I go back, and in a year, he gets scared and bolts? What if I end up pregnant, and it's too much for him?"

"I can't see him doing that. Right, Indy?" Stevie asks, and I shrug.

"Well, after what I just went through, I don't exactly see him falling to his knees and kissing my stomach like Atlas does. I'm just… I'm so tired of stupidly believing men when they say they want my responsibilities, and then I get hurt when they realize it's too much for them."

Ren sighs softly. "Relationships take work, girl. Especially ones with people carrying baggage."

"Wade isn't baggage," I snap, and Indy grabs my forearm.

"Sunday, she's talking about Ash, not you." I furrow my brows and stare at my brown-eyed friend.

"Sunday, Ash has called Atlas every single day since I've been with that man. Atlas said when they lived together, Ash would confide in him a lot. Ash's dad and ex did a number on him. It's not an excuse, but it could be that you triggered his anxiety, and I'm sure we can all agree that during an anxiety attack, sometimes our words get fucked up. I'm not saying forgive him, run back, and get married. I'm just saying that Ash has demons that he's kept locked away because he was busy supporting others, and maybe being with him will require a little more patience and understanding."

I sitin my empty dance studio, staring at my lock screen photo. I haven't changed it from the photo of the three of us at the amusement park. Why did I say that to him?

"Because I do love him, and I shouldn't have to be in a relationship where my partner doesn't love me," I mutter as I look around. Today was open enrollment for my kids' ballet classes, and no one has come. I haven't received a single sign-up. Probably because no one wants to have their kids taught by an ex-stripper.

I walk into the ballet room and look at the wall of mirrors and the barre. Sighing, I reach into the locker I had put in here and pull out my pointe shoes. I had broken them in at Stevie's yesterday and she thought I was insane, but you can't use these things brand new. Plus, you have to sew them and everything else. As I sit on the floor and slip my foot into the shoe, I hum softly while wrapping and tying the ribbon securely around my ankle. Once I do the other, I stand and hop on to my toe a couple of times, ensuring I'm in them properly before going through routine warm-ups.

I had hoped this would somehow calm me, but now all I see is failure. I'm going to have to sell this place now. How embarrassing. I lost the man I love and my dream business all within a couple of days of each other and without really getting to experience either of them.

I finish out the grand jeté, nailing the mid-air split. Once I land, I stumble when I see a woman and her two children standing in the doorway.

"Oh my god, hi," I say through my pants.

"Wow," the blonde boy, who is probably no more than eight, breathes out. "That was so cool!"

"Yeah!" the equally blonde girl beside him squeals. His sister, most likely. "Can we do that?"

"Hi," the woman smiles. "I know we are a little late, but there was a terrible accident on the interstate. I'm Denise, and these are my kids, Philip and Lacy. They"re interested in signing up for your beginner classes if there are any spots left?"

I have to swallow the lump back in my throat and hold the tears at bay as I give her a smile and nod. "Yeah," I manage softly. "Absolutely. Come on out front, and I'll give you the papers."

It's not the mad rush I was hoping for, but it's a start. After all, everything isn't always easy. Sometimes, it takes a lot of work, a little patience, and understanding.