Round 10

I t wasn’t surprising when Patrick didn’t show up to the next game night. No one asked. Not even me.

Luckily, I had enough distractions—such as Neema and Shaun pulling William and me aside with matching grins on their faces.

“Rose,” Neema said, batting her lash extensions at me.

“William,” Shaun added.

William stood and offered me a cheeky and knowing glance. We both knew what was coming, having bet on it a couple times in the past.

“Will you be our maid of honor?” Neema asked me.

“And our best man?” Shaun asked William.

Of course I would. If I was entirely honest, I wished I could be both maid of honor and best man. I had already planned Neema’s bachelorette party, and I had a number of suggestions for William about Shaun’s bachelor party.

“Yes!” I screeched. “It’s on my Life Goals, and I’ve been itching to tick something off.”

I bounced into her arms, and William, in a completely unpredictable manner, pulled his brother in for a tight hug. Shaun seemed as surprised as the rest of us.

“Of course.” William squeezed Shaun and suddenly pulled back. “Although I don’t know if… you know.” His voice went soft and hesitant, unlike the free-flowing snark I was often on the receiving end of.

Know what?

But Shaun knew. His smile faded.

Neema and I exchanged glances and took our squealing to the balcony, leaving them alone in their moment.

I shut the door and turned to face her. A breeze whipped by and chilled my core. “What was that about?”

She shook her head. “No idea. But I’ll bet it’s got something to do with their dad.”

“Oh,” I said, thinking back through all our conversations. “I don’t think he’s mentioned him much. Did you know William’s mom died when he was little?” I asked, feeling a pinch of sorrow as I recalled his pained expression.

“Yeah, Shaun mentioned it. He doesn’t like to talk about William’s mom or their childhood. Seems the Ashderns have some issues.” Neema chewed on her bottom lip. “I’ve only met his dad once, and William didn’t come up in conversation at all, which seemed… weird.”

“The wedding’s going to be interesting.”

Neema’s deep brown eyes widened beneath closely drawn brows. “I fear it might be.”

My first duty as maid of honor was to arrange and attend pole dancing classes. Neema insisted she needed lessons in preparation for her wedding night—lucky Shaun. She also insisted we take the lessons with her. While I easily agreed to most of what Neema suggested, Claire didn’t usually.

“I’m surprised you came,” I said over my shoulder as Claire climbed into the backseat.

Her mom and her nephew stood on the porch, waving her off.

“So am I,” she huffed out. “But it was either this or playing another round of Mad Magazine with my nephew . ”

“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “That game is so chaotic. I hate it.”

Neema giggled. “Your mom loves it though.”

“Unsurprisingly,” I said.

“So does William,” Neema added. “Or maybe he loves it because you hate it so much.”

My breath hitched at the mere mention of his name and the fact that Neema still had no idea what had happened. Although that made two of us since I couldn’t make sense of it either.

A nervous laugh escaped me when I opened my mouth because no words came out. I looked away, but Neema caught my eye, her concern obvious.

“You okay? You’ve been acting weirder than your usual weird. How are things with Patrick?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m seeing him this evening. I’m just a bit tired and overworked.” I defaulted to my automatic answer whenever anyone asked me what was wrong and I didn’t want to burden them with my actual thoughts… or face them myself either.

I didn’t want to tell them that my dates with Patrick had become later and shorter, and even when we were together, we weren’t. He was thinking about work, and I was thinking about how he was thinking about work.

“You need to unwind,” Neema said.

“Yeah.” I offered her a smile, and for the last few minutes of the drive, I wondered what unwinding would look like.

I’d completely unravel and end up on an island living exactly the way my mother does—and that was not an option. I had to stay focused, forget the game, finish this degree, get the promotion, get married, buy a house, have children, and raise them in a stable home.

That was still the dream, right?

The car stopped in front of a baby-pink building, pulling me from my thoughts.

“We’re here.” Neema climbed out wearing her shortest shorts, as instructed.

You need the friction between your thighs and the pole , the instructor had told us.

While I was short, I was not as slender as Claire or as athletic as Neema. I’d need a lot more than friction to get my body to defy gravity.

As soon as we walked in, our instructor shimmied with glee. Her silver hot pants accentuated her gloriously long legs. I could use them instead of the pole.

We greeted Neema’s other friends before the instructor addressed us.

“Welcome, ladies!” She stretched one leg high in front of her before taking a step. Spinning once, she pressed her back against the pole and slid down.

She dipped in such a seductive way that my cheeks heated.

“I’m going to teach you a beginner routine with enough twirls and spins to make it impressive.”

Her eyes screamed sexy while I was sure mine screamed scared .

But our first task was simple enough: stretching our arms upward, grabbing ahold of the pole, and lifting ourselves off the ground.

Well, I was wrong. As someone who’d never lifted anything heavier than a laptop bag, this was not going to work.

After a few mediocre pulls—and activating muscles I didn’t know I had—I managed to find a rhythm and get the hang of it. But as soon as I’d gained my confidence, the instructor showed us our next move.

The Fireman.

The only problem is that none of the firemen in the videos I often watched ever did this trick.

Following the instructor’s step-by-step directions, I mimicked her posture and curled a leg around the cold pole. With a deep breath, I lifted my other leg off the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut—hitting the floor would be less painful if I didn’t see it coming.

But I didn’t fall.

It worked.

Everyone was as shocked as I was.

“See, Rose,” Neema yelled, “you’ve got this!”

Her other friends cheered, and the tips of my ears heated.

With each move and every spin, I surprised myself and enjoyed the way my heart pulsed.

“Good job, girls,” our instructor said at the end of the lesson. “You’ll be ready for your performance in no time.”

“Performance?” Claire and I asked at the same time, our heads snapping toward a very guilty-looking Neema, who grabbed her things and bolted toward the car.

“About that…” she started when we caught up to her.

I was already shaking my head, taking a few steps closer to her.

“I meant to talk to you about this before the class, but you’ve been so busy and stressed, I thought it better I tell you at a later stage.”

“Tell me what?” I glared at her.

“Remember how I asked if we could end up at VOX?” She scrunched her nose and smiled at the same time.

“Yes, for the pizza and live music.” I dropped my head into my hands in preparation for Neema’s secret plans.

“It used to be a strip club and they still have the poles and I was hoping we could put on a performance and it’ll be fun and we need to have a bit of fun, please.” She spat the words out all in one breath.

“No, thank you,” Claire replied. “I’ll cheer you on, but I won’t perform.”

“Fine. I know coming to this class is already far out of your comfort zone,” Neema said and touched Claire’s shoulder. “I appreciate you being here. Will Dean be joining the boys?”

“He wants to.”

Neema turned her full focus to me. “I assume Patrick will be joining… if he’s not working.” She took my hand, her skin several shades darker than mine but glistening. “I need one of you up there.”

“The boys will be there?” I couldn’t tell if my heart’s speedy rhythm was due to the workout or imagining myself pole dancing on stage… in front of the boys .

“Shaun’s going to want to see me that night, I know him. You need to get William to take him to VOX without giving anything away. Can you do that? Or are the two of you only capable of pulling each other’s hair like kids on a playground?” She folded her arms across her chest, challenging me.

“Uhm, we…” I stumbled on my words and resorted to a pfffttt . Claire went completely silent.

We walked to the car while Neema wrinkled her nose and gave me her best puppy-dog eyes. “You’ll be fully clothed. It’s a respected sport!”

“You know me—you know I can’t do that. My body doesn’t work that way. It just isn’t sexy. I’ll look like a fool.” I crossed my arms, my voice dropping in anger. “This is the coat idea all over again, and that didn’t work out well, did it?”

The deep feeling of rejection, of how unsexy I was, consumed me.

Neema sighed, climbing into the car. “Since you’re so sure you aren’t sexy, how about a deal?”

Claire and I got in and waited.

“If, by the last class, you manage to master the routine and feel semi-confident about it, you’ll do it even if you take one of the poles farther back. I want you up there with me, and I want you to feel sexy because you are.”

I grumbled, accepting defeat. “ If I feel confident—and I won’t—but if I do, I’ll join you up there.”

“Deal.”

This was the first bet I was hoping to lose.

I stared at the message again.

Patrick: Babe, this meeting is running over. Breakfast tomorrow?

I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my face and body. My mouth that no one longed to kiss, my waist that had long since been desperately held.

You’re being dramatic. Stop it. He’s just busy.

To avoid screaming in frustration, I called my mom. That usually did the trick to remind me that I was loved by someone.

“Rosie, Rosie, my little lovely baby, baby,” Mom sang into the screen as she answered, her dark hair half the length it was during our last call. “I’m being spoiled with calls. You’re all dolled up. Where are you off to?”

“Nowhere.” I grabbed my makeup remover and the face scrubbies my mother had crocheted and started cleaning my lips. When my mom stayed quiet, I peeked at my screen and said, “So, what did you do to your hair?”

My mom’s little frown softened but didn’t disappear. “One of our neighbor’s daughters wants to be a hairdresser, so I let her practice on me.” She ran her hands through the jagged edges. “Do you like it?”

“How old is she?” My lips curved upward, and my airways opened again.

“She’s seven, but I think she’s got potential.” She admired her own hair in the video.

I giggled, and my eyes welled with tears. I was grateful for my mother’s bad internet connection. “I miss you so much.”

“Miss you too. How’s work and all the usual things?”

“All fine.” I tossed the scrubbies aside and climbed into bed with the intention of leading the conversation elsewhere.

We discussed Neema’s wedding (my parents were coming!), her current work (painting portraits), her love for my father (unnecessarily explicit), and finally, my board game (she insisted I finish it and submit it to the competition or she’d disown me).

“I mean it, we’ll cut you off!” she teased, her voice breaking up due to their shaky internet connection. “I watched you create this game. I watched you build it. You were so little, with no idea what the world had in store for you, and your dreams were uncontainable. Finish it, please. Show the world what you made for them.”

I rolled my eyes, even though my chest pounded with want. I couldn’t play it down and pretend I didn’t want that. “It’s not such a big deal…”

“For someone who loves these games, you sure are afraid to roll the dice.”

“I’ll see,” I said, wanting to be freed from the truth bomb she insisted on dropping. I was afraid it would shatter all the lies that currently held my life together. “I have to go.”

“Do you still love him, Rosie?” she asked before I could hang up.

I paused. My heart raced in the seconds that passed.

The one thing I could always rely on was my mother’s intuition. Before I stumbled in search of an answer, she gracefully changed the topic. “I think a ghost visited me last night.”

“Tell me everything.”