30. Dia

THIRTY

I getin the driver's seat of Dalton's Audi, rubbing my hands together like a little gremlin. I fucking love this car. It's similar to Blaze's, but it's a newer model and is completely blacked out instead of Candy Apple Red. Now that I don't have the extra cash to rent a vehicle, I've either been walking or taking an Uber. But today, Dalton insisted I take one of his cars. He let me choose, and of course, I chose the R8. I reminded him that I almost drove Blaze's through his house a few months ago, but he said he doesn't give a shit about the car as long as I don't get hurt. Then he tossed me the keys, gave me a kiss and a tap on the ass, and told me to have fun.

The distance from the apartment to the dance studio is short, so I drive slowly, cranking the music as I nod my head to the beat. It's uncharacteristically warm and sunny today, so I just have a cropped sweatshirt over my sports bra. It's nice to not need a coat. I can't wait for my first Boston spring.

I pull behind the building, parking in the almost empty lot. I don't have to worry about Bella noticing me driving Dalton's car because she's always here before me and Carlo insists on making sure I get out of the lot safely before pulling to the door to usher her into his SUV. But honestly, I don't really care if she notices. She and I have become so much closer since I moved here and it is starting to feel wrong keeping her and Mav out of the loop. So, if it comes up, I won't hide it.

"Hey, Carlo!" I greet Bella's bodyguard, giving him a fist bump on my way into the studio. Bella was extra giddy on the phone yesterday when she asked me to meet her here, and I'm wondering why. I wouldn't be surprised if Maverick proposed, but I doubt she'd wait to tell any of us. She's the type to just blurt it over the phone.

"What's up, Diamond?" he says, throwing me off. Carlo is cool, but he's usually very formal. It's always ‘Miss Spencer'. Never Diamond or Dia. As much as I hate people using my full first name, because it usually means we're having a serious moment, I'm pretty sure I love it coming from Bella's burly bodyguard. "She's inside waiting for you," he says, smiling brightly as he opens the door for me.

I'm light on my feet, his good mood rubbing off on me. Well, that and the way Dalton twisted me up like a pretzel while he fucked my brains out before he left for the practice facility this morning. That certainly wasn't the worst way to start the day.

I round the corner, hanging back to watch Bella as she dances by herself. The song isn't familiar, but it's definitely her voice. It's unmistakable. She's wearing pink spandex shorts and a very long gray and white Blizzard hoodie. I'd be willing to bet it belongs to her boyfriend. It's funny how we all wear their clothes whenever we can, although I'm not as able to be open like they are. But you bet your ass the first thing I do when I get home is strip off my shirt and put on Dalton's.

She turns, catching my shadow in the corner and halting her movements. "Dia?" she asks, squinting.

"Sorry," I say. "I was stalking. What song is that?" I walk into the room, stopping by where she's set her bag on the floor.

"It's my new single," she says proudly. "Well, not yet. I recorded it before my break so we could release it as part of my big comeback. I'm not technically working, but we're planning for the next tour." She's smiling and bouncing on her tiptoes like an absolute weirdo. I'm a little confused why this is exciting her so much.

"Have you had any Red Bull today, Bells?" I ask, half joking, half not.

"Nope," she answers, still bouncing.

"You okay?"

"Yep." More bouncing.

"Bella, what's going?—"

"Come on tour with me!" she yells like she just can't hold the words inside her tiny body anymore. "Be my new dancer!"

I stand there, confused for a second, but then everything starts to make sense. I can't believe this is happening.

"You want to pay me to dance?" I whisper.

"Yes!" she squeals. "I played the video I took of us for my choreographer, Sammi. We just found out that one of my dancers is pregnant by one of my other dancers. It's a whole thing, which I'll explain later," she rushes out, "but we have an opening and I need it to be you. Please, Dia."

I'm stunned silent. All my life, I was told that girls like me don't grow up to be professional dancers. My parents made sure I knew that I wasn't destined for anything special. But now, I realize that they were just holding me down. If it weren't for their negativity and gaslighting, I'd have been long gone, leaving them behind to deal with their messes on their own. All the nights I went to bed discouraged, thinking I wasn't good enough to pursue my passion…it was all wasted time. I want to be angry with my mom and dad for not giving me the support I needed as a child, but I refuse to spend another ounce of emotion on them. Moving forward, I'm living the life I always dreamed about. And I have my new family here in Boston to thank for it. They've shown me more love and encouragement in the handful of weeks that I've been here than my parents have in my whole life.

I nod my head rapidly, smiling through my tears. "Yes! Definitely!" I tell her.

"Oh my God! I'm so excited!" Bella squeals, jumping on me. She hugs me way tighter than such a small person should be able to, swaying me back and forth as I cry-laugh on her shoulder. She pulls back. "We're going to have so much fun! And you get to keep the stuff you wear on tour when it's over. Last year, I wore my sequined Versace jumpsuit around the house for a week straight just because I could." I can definitely see Bella, washing the dishes in head-to-toe sparkles. That's very on-brand for her.

She sets me up with the information I'll need to sign my contract, informing me of the very hefty signing bonus I'll get when my paperwork is all taken care of. We lace up our shoes and she shows me some of the choreography for her new song, which is absolutely amazing.

When we part ways, promising to meet up again next week, I head to the car and immediately rifle through my purse for my phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth. Usually, when something good happens in my life, Mads is my first and only call. But without even thinking, I pull up another contact, hitting the Call button on the steering wheel as I pull onto the road.

"How much is it going to cost me?" Dalton says in greeting.

"What?" I reply, caught off guard.

"Whatever…or whoever you hit with my car."

I roll my eyes. "You're such an asshole. I didn't crash," I say with a laugh. "But guess what!"

"What, baby?" he replies.

I bounce in my seat, too excited to sit still as I wait at a red light. "Bella asked me to join her next tour as a backup dancer!"

"What?" he chokes. "That's fucking amazing! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thank you." I shake my head, still in disbelief. "I couldn't have done any of this without you, Dalton. Seriously. Thank you."

"No way, babe. You did this all by yourself. I was just lucky enough to have a front row seat to your comeback."

This man. He's given me so much and he doesn't even realize it. Maybe I did do some of this on my own, but I would've never had the courage to break out of the life that was holding me down if it weren't for him throwing me over his shoulder in Vegas. Although I thought it was the worst possible situation when we were told we'd need to stay married for longer than we expected, I'm truly thankful that things worked out the way they did. With Dalton behind me, I've had the courage to take the life I've always wanted.

"Hurry home, Wifey. We'll order from Donatello's and get naked so I can congratulate you properly."

"Okay, be right there," I say, still high on my good news. "I love you!" I freeze, not knowing where that just came from. I vowed I'd never say those words to a man again. But they just came out before I could stop them. "I…uhh," I stutter, not sure how to recover.

"I love you, too," he says. "Drive safe, baby."