He opened the trunk. “I’ll get these inside. Take your time.”
I pulled out my phone. There was one person I needed to tell about what happened today. I scrolled through my contacts and tapped her number. I knew with the time difference I was calling late, but I hoped she would answer.
“Hello?”
I smiled when I heard her voice.
“Madame Collette, it’s Natalia.”
“Natalia, my dear. It’s so late. Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you. I had news I wanted to share with you.”
“Ma chérie, it’s good to hear your voice. It’s never too late.”
I could picture her. Her hair pulled back in a dark bun. I never knew how old she was—she kept her age concealed with frequent trips to the hair salon and excellent skin care. She was like most French women—elegant and flawless.
“You too. I’m sorry I haven’t called more often.”
“Tell me. What is your news?”
It was wonderful to share today with Sam. I wouldn’t trade his support for anything, but this woman had raised me in ballet. She had held my hand through shin splints and twisted ankles. She had taught me how to choreograph an entire routine. And when my parents told me they were divorcing, she was the one who let me cry on her shoulder. She was strict, and at times arrogant, but I loved her.
“Madame Collette, I made prima ballerina today.” I leaned against the car and watched as a pair of geese flew close enough to let their wings skim the water’s surface.
“Oui, oui, such wonderful news.” She was quiet. “I knew you would be back on stage.”
“I didn’t.” I spoke quietly.
“You are too talented of a ballerina, Natalia. And one day you can be like me. Teaching those to dance.”
I grinned. I doubted I could be half the instructor she was. “I’d like to think so.”
I tried to imagine what that life would be like. Would I retire from the ballet and open my own dance studio? Would Sam be there? Would we stay in San Antonio or leave if he were traded to another team? My head swam with all the possibilities.
“Au revoir, my sweet. Thank you for the call.”
“Au revoir. I’ll call more often. I promise.”
I hung up and stuffed the phone into my pocket and turned to face the cottage. Sam was waiting for me inside.
I climbed the small steps. When I pushed open the door, my breath caught under my ribs. “Oh my God.”
Everything was the same as our first night here. There were flowers and candles, and a crackling fire in the fireplace. It was the same except for the man down on one knee holding a diamond ring between his fingers.
“Before I say anything or you say anything, I want you to know I planned this for you whether or not you made the troupe.”
I nodded, speechless and shaky. I stumbled closer to him. I wanted to hear everything he had to say. I wasn’t about to interrupt this perfect moment.
I lowered to the floor, taking his face between my hands. His gorgeous, chiseled face. The one that had me from night one. I looked into his gray eyes as the tears gathered at the corners of my lashes.
“Don’t cry. I haven’t even started yet.” He cleared his throat.
I laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay. This is what I want to say.” He kissed the center of my palm and held my hand against his cheek as if he needed my strength to get the words out.
“It’s been an incredible year. We’ve had to face some of the hardest defeats in our careers. The Wranglers didn’t make it to the championship. You were fired from the Warriors. That entire media bullsh