Just Breathe (25 page)

Arianne held a hand to her pregnant belly. ‘We don’t need an answer right away. The baby’s not due for another month. Don’t make a decision until you’ve had time to think about it.’

Then she saw it. This was Arianne and Howard’s future, too. One they wanted. Perhaps needed. They were depending on her.

The front door clanged and the first students were clomping up the stairs. Dee checked her
watch. ‘I better …’ She hooked a thumb at the door and stood up on wobbly legs. ‘I’m, um, too shocked to form words. There are a zillion of them going berserk in my head right now, just flying around as stunned as I am.’ She held her hands out to them, blinked back a tear. ‘I can’t express … I feel so … I want to …’

Arianne laughed. ‘I hope your class knows sign language.’

Dee hugged her, then Howard, and, taking great gulping breaths on the way down the stairs, she tried to calm herself for the class. Tried to get Ethan, Lucy, Arianne and Howard out of her mind. Four students were at the door waiting.

‘Hey, Dee. Ian Fisher sure did a job on you.’

‘Will you be selling the yoga DVD from the school?’

‘I went to school with Ethan Roxburgh.’

‘How’s Arianne?’

Not a single negative comment or unexpected job offer. Dee could’ve hugged every one of them. Would’ve thanked them if she could find the words – and told them to stop mentioning Ethan or she might cry.

The class was awful. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and she couldn’t remember the names of even basic poses. In the end, she gave up trying to make sense and demonstrated instead, saying ‘Like this’ or ‘Follow me’. During an extra-long meditation, she thought about Ethan and Lucy and being a partner, and freaked out a little more.

She was exhausted when she shut the door behind the last student. She pulled the blinds, and the yoga room went dark and quiet. On any other Sunday, she loved it like that – hot and musty from working bodies, silent and cushioned from the world. Today, all she felt was her heart pounding and her sanity spinning out of control.

She was in the store room, wrestling mats onto a shelf, when the studio door opened. A student must have forgotten something. ‘Hey,’ she called, walked back into the room and felt like she’d hit a wall.

‘I’ve been ringing but your phone is off.’ Ethan was in the doorway, hair tousled, t-shirt and jeans, handsome and sweet and tired and concerned. Why couldn’t he have worn his collar and tie and steely business face? ‘We need to talk.’

Making conversation had been hard enough before Ethan arrived. ‘No, we don’t. It’s okay. I understand about … everything. We don’t have to do this.’

‘Yes, we do. I don’t know how much you heard but it’s not what you think.’ He took a step towards her.

She smelled the muskiness of his skin, remembered how it felt under her fingers. She ran sweaty palms down the front of her tights and took a pace back. ‘I know I’m not a Roxburgh Girl. I never wanted to be. It was just a shock hearing the two of you talk about it like that. But it’s okay. I’m ready to move on.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’ He closed the gap between them, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Without thinking, she let him, melding into his body, wrapping her arms around him – then came to her senses and pushed away. ‘Wait. What? I thought …’

‘I don’t know what you thought but this is what I’m thinking.’ He kissed her again, once, like a full stop. Then again, like a comma. And followed it with a slow caress of her mouth – a sweet, passionate phrase. Dee’s head told her she’d walked away but her lips wouldn’t listen. They wanted to stay for the rest of the sentence. For the whole damn paragraph. When he finally released her, she looked at him, confused, fearful.

‘I don’t want a Roxburgh Girl, Dee. I want you.’

Her breath caught in her throat. Do you want the good news or the bad news? The good news is he wants you. So what’s the bad news? He wants you.

She put space between them. He held onto her hands.

‘Dee, I wanted to ask you last night but we got side tracked. I’m going to New York for a couple of weeks in June and I’d love to have you with me.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘In June? That’s two months away.’

‘I thought that’d give you plenty of time to sort out your work arrangements.’

The darkened room seemed to close in around her. ‘I, um … oh, geez … two
months
?’

Ethan held her hands tighter. ‘If you’re worried about a passport, that should be more than enough time to sort it out. But I thought you’d have one.’ He tightened his hold on her fingers.

She knew it was meant to be reassuring but it felt like restraint. ‘I do. It’s just that two months is so … in the future, and we don’t know what’ll happen between now and then. I mean, we might not …’

One corner of his mouth turned up. ‘What? Be together? In two months? I was hoping we’d still be tearing each other’s clothes off.’ His smile wavered. ‘What were you thinking?’

Dee pulled her hands from his and twisted them together. ‘I … I didn’t think that far. Just thought I’d wait and see how it goes.’

The smile disappeared. ‘How it goes? Like some extended one night stand?’

‘Well, no. It’s just …’ What could she tell him? That he was the best thing in her life but two weeks was the absolute max she could consider?

‘I don’t get it, Dee. I thought there was something going on between us. And now you’re saying it’s just a casual thing for you?’

‘No. It’s not
casual
.’ No one had been this close since the accident. ‘I just don’t see the point in counting on some kind of longevity that may or may not happen.’

Ethan clenched and unclenched his jaw. ‘I know the Roxburgh Girl thing makes me seem like some kind of playboy but it takes a lot for me to get involved.’ He cocked his head and
watched her eyes, her face, then took his own step back, just about out of reach. ‘I thought that’s what was happening here. I thought that’s what you wanted. But if you’re only interested in a bit of fun, just say so, Dee, because I don’t want to invest myself in something that’s going nowhere. I’ve been there, done that and I have no intention of doing it again.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So what is it, Dee?’

He’d put on his business hat, laid his options on the table, wanted a response – but his eyes were wounded, wary.

Dee wanted to kiss that expression away but she couldn’t. He was asking for a future.

‘I … I don’t know. I don’t
want
to know. I, um …’

‘I’m not asking you to shack up and spit out a few kids but I want more than hot sex and a few laughs. Are you up for that?’

The question made heat rush to her face. Was she? She’d already gone past a few laughs. Way past. The night he’d told her he liked the way she’d put herself together, she’d leapt over a few laughs and landed straight at invested. But did she want to keep investing when she needed to be ready to walk?

She looked at his espresso eyes, his soft mouth, the arms that felt like a shield. The problem was she didn’t
want
to walk away, not right now. Would gladly invest hard-earned assets for the relief of having someone strong to hold them for a while. She reached out a hand to his chest, felt the contours of the flesh beneath his shirt. Sweet words she thought she’d never say again began to form. She could hear them in her head, feel the shape of them in her mouth.

Ethan’s eyes softened. ‘Is there a future for us, Dee?’

A future?

A wave of anxiety washed over her so fast she didn’t have time to draw breath. Her knees
turned to jelly, her stomach clenched and her vision blurred. She reeled away from him, sucking in air, trying to see past the weird blackness that was creeping across her eyes.

‘Dee?’

There was concern in his voice but she could only just hear it behind the ringing in her ears. She grabbed the desk with both hands and propped herself against it so she wouldn’t drop to the floor. Just breathe, Dee. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulled in air through her nose, blew it out through her mouth. In, out. Hard and fast until her vision began to clear. She sensed Ethan behind her, felt his arm around her shoulders, felt her head start to spin again.

‘No. Don’t.’ She pushed him away, let go of the desk, took a few steps back and focused on breathing some more.

‘Dee, what’s wrong? Let me help.’ He reached out a hand.

Her body ached with the need to take it and the need to get some distance. She took another pace away. ‘Please don’t ask me about a future.’

Ethan didn’t move for a long moment, just watched her from beyond the barrier she’d put between them. ‘You’re scared,’ he said at last. ‘It’s okay. I’m scared too. I just don’t forget to breathe when I’m scared.’ He smiled gently.

Breathe, Dee.

He ducked his head to look her in the eyes. ‘It’s a big step for both of us but that’s no reason not to do it. I want to be with you, Dee, and I’m pretty sure you want to be with me. We can face the future together. It’ll be
our
future.’

The panic sparked in her toes, sped up her legs and leapt into her belly. She clenched her teeth. No. Not another panic attack. Not another future. She made her voice firm and loud. ‘I don’t want a future. I don’t
believe
in the future.’

There was anger and confusion on his face.

‘I … I can’t do this. Not now. I want … I need …’ What? Everything? Nothing? ‘I need you to go.’ She turned and fled to the storeroom.

Dee’s eyes flew open. She sat up, gasped so hard she thought she might choke.

Ethan.

Shit. She flopped back on her pillow, eyes swollen, head throbbing, back sore. Big circle with the right leg. Whoa. Make that a not so big circle. Not so big with the left either. Rest. That would have to do. She needed time to curl up in a ball and feel crap for a while longer.

Even though Sunday had been a series of separate shocks, in her head it blended into one, interconnected mess. The newspaper made her think of Lucy and Ethan and the school. The partnership offer made her want to talk to Ethan, which made her think of Lucy and the newspaper. And any thought of Ethan made her skull feel like the Lotto barrel with all those balls rolling around and bouncing off the walls.

At five-thirty, Dee hauled herself out of bed and wondered how she was going to find the energy to strike a pose for the yoga DVD tomorrow. She stretched against the kitchen bench while she waited for the coffee, then stopped when she realised she’d always done that at Ethan’s. She remembered his face: when he’d seen the newspaper, when she’d told him to leave, when she’d walked in on him and Lucy. The sound of Lucy’s voice: ‘She wasn’t meant to
say
anything.’ Shit, shit, shit. She beat her head against the fridge. It felt a lot better than stretching.

Patrick opened his door before she had a chance to knock.

‘Tough weekend?’ he asked.

‘Yep.’

‘I always thought that saying about any publicity being good publicity was a load of old
bunkum.’

She smiled and was surprised it didn’t hurt.

Inside, he said, ‘I’ve got one piece of advice. Keep doing what you do best. When everything’s blown over, it might be all you have left, so look after it.’

Dee wished he’d told her six months in bed feeling sorry for herself was the best way to survive, but Patrick would know. His bankruptcy was plastered all over the papers for months a few years back. Maybe she should take his advice.

‘So, Patrick, how’s your knee this morning?’

The eight o’clock intermediate class was in a huddle when she arrived and kept sneaking glances at her as she set up. If they kept doing that during class, they’d all have neck injuries. Better get it out in the open.

‘Thank you for being here today,’ she started. ‘I thought you might decide not to come after reading the newspaper.’ She glanced around at their inquisitive faces. Yes, she was Ethan Roxburgh’s secret lover; yes, he does look as good naked as one might imagine; and no, she did not want to address all their questions.

After class, she left without checking on Arianne. The offer was still a knot of worry in her belly and she didn’t want to upset her with that. She went to the café, answered questions from the staff – yes, it was true; no, she hadn’t said that; actually, it was all very embarrassing – and sat down to trawl through her mounting phone messages. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain, just wanted to make sure she hadn’t missed the end of the world.

Ethan had phoned twice – once last night, once this morning, both times asking her just to talk to him. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she figured out what she was going to say.

Leon called five times to check she was okay. She spoke to him last night. Sobbed, really.
Replayed the day through hiccups and nose blows. He listened and cooed and said supportive things but she still felt like shit when he hung up.

There were texts from friends and students and reporters and some guy trying to sell her health insurance. Some were kind, others were after information. She saved a few, deleted the rest. Then there was a veritable stockpile from her mother and sister. Val was upset that, according to the newspaper, Dee had kept Ethan from her since early February. Amanda, on the other hand, wanted to help with damage control. She knew people, she could get PR advice. Call me, she kept saying.

Dee didn’t. Didn’t want damage control. Just wanted to go into hiding.

The phone rang as she deleted Amanda’s last message. It was Grace from Health Life Member Services.

‘Dee, hi, glad I caught you. I guess you’ve heard about the problem with the media at the weekend.’

Well, duh. ‘Yes.’

‘Of course you have.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you at such short notice but the board met this morning and decided to postpone the yoga DVD for the moment.’

Dee closed her eyes.

‘The directors feel the project is too contentious at the moment, particularly considering your, ah, personal involvement with Mr Roxburgh. The issue of securing member trust regarding the new fee structure is considered a higher priority.’

Tears welled behind her lids. ‘How long has it been postponed for?’

‘It’s indefinite at this stage.’ She lowered her voice to a confidential murmur. ‘I’m sorry, Dee. I’m personally disappointed but it’s the board’s decision.’

The board – that meant Ethan, too. Did he vote to cut her from the project? She blinked hard, willing herself not to cry. It would be just her luck for a photographer to snap her mid-snivel:
Ugly Crier Sends Roxburgh Packing
. Although, another headline was the least of her worries right now. She’d palmed off all her classes for the next week and a half to shoot the DVD. That was a week and a half of lesson fees she was about to lose, not to mention the outrageous fee she was supposed to be paid for the DVD – money meant to make her bank balance bulge and help finance a new second-hand car. In ten days, she’d be back to square one – broke and alone. Worse, actually. She hadn’t felt rejected and pressured and exhausted then.