All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(44)

“I’m an East Coast girl,” I begin. “I don’t know if I want to spend so much time in California.”

“It’s just for a few months, right?”

“Probably three to four months with rehearsals, recordings, and filming.”

“Okay.” He frowns. “That’s not really that long.”

“It’s a long time to be without you,” I blurt out, and then feel my cheeks flush. “This thing between us is still new, and I don’t know that I want to be away from you for months.”

His eyes soften as he watches me from across the room. “Sweetheart, I can come to L.A. Probably not full-time, but at least half of the week. And I know they’ll give you some days off. You can always come to New York.”

“You’d do that?”

“Well, I don’t love the thought of being without you for months either. And as quickly as three months can pass, it’s just too long to go without being with you. So, I don’t really see an alternative.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” I reply, and shake my head.

“London,” he says, interrupting me. “It’s just what people who love each other do, right?”

“I—” I stare at him, not entirely sure I just heard him right. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Okay, then. We’ll make it work. I’m not worried about that part at all. It’s an amazing opportunity for you, and you should go for it.”

“It’s going to be unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I know live theater inside out, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You’re a smart woman. I have no doubt you’ll do great.”

He walks to me and lowers his lips to mine. How did this man come to be in my life?





Chapter Twelve

~London~


“Girl, you killed it,” Sasha says as we leave our first class of the day. It was a contemporary dance class, and it put us through the paces. “Your leg seems to be doing well.”

“It’s good,” I reply, and wipe the sweat off my face. “It’s twingy today, but not achy, which is a huge improvement.”

“Are you sure you should do the next class?”

“Yeah, I can modify it if I need to, but I think I just need to stretch it out a bit.” I drop my gym bag and water bottle to the floor and lift my leg against the wall to stretch it out. There’s a bit of a pull, but no pain. The pull is to be expected because I’m still getting back into dancing shape. “I had no idea it was this hard to get back into shape.”

“Did you think it just happened overnight?”

“I’ve danced since I was little,” I remind her. “So I’ve never not been in shape.”

“You’re the kind of girl the rest of us hate.” She takes a drink of water and wipes off her own face. “I wish I was naturally athletic. If I don’t go to class every day, I’m doughy in no time. And then it takes twice as long to not look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

“That’s not what you look like.”

“Yeah, because I go to class every day and I eat celery at every meal,” she replies. “Seriously, though, I love how healthy you look.”

“Thanks.” I grin as my phone rings, and I yank it out of my bag, hoping it’s Finn.

But it’s not.

“Unknown caller,” I murmur, and hit the green button. “Hello?”

“Hey London Bridge,” Kyle says, his voice happy and, dare I say, sober.

“Hi, Kyle.”

“How are you?” he asks, and I frown, staring at Sasha. She asks who it is and I mouth Kyle.

“I’m good. You just caught me. I’m in between dance classes.”

“You’re dancing again? That’s great. You must be feeling better.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it in confusion and then say, “I am feeling better, thanks.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” He sniffs loudly, which tips me off to the fact that he’s probably not sober, but doing his best to sound like it. “I have some good news too.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I’m going to rehab,” he says, and I just sit on the floor, pull my knees up to my chest, and hang my head in my hand.

I’ve heard this a thousand times.

“Really? Where are you going?”

“At a place in North Carolina,” he says. “Right on the beach, so I’ll have a good view while I’m hating life.”

“A good view is nice. So, did you get the trust to approve it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Of course I did,” he says, his voice harder now. “Do you think I can afford rehab on my own?”

“No, that’s why I asked.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, tears in his voice now, and I just roll my eyes. “I just don’t understand why you always think the worst of me. Of course I got it approved by the trust. Are you worried that I’m going to cut into your money?”

“Good God, Kyle. Of course not, that’s your money. It was just a question.”