Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set by Cara Colter (best novel books to read .TXT) 📕

burn in her muscles. The problem was she had never allowed herself to need anyone before. She’d always been so proud of her independence, of doing her own thing, and then, in true Charlie style, she’d thrown herself wholesale into marriage in an all-or-nothing kind of way, with the result that she’d felt hard done by playing the role of the barely noticed little wife at home.

But what if she did things differently? Stood up for herself, made sure Matteo knew her boundaries, got a job, her own friends, as she should have done from the start. But if she did stay, did try again, then she needed to mean it. No more impulsive walking out when things got tough.

Charlie grabbed the side of the pool, her chest heaving with the exertion, her stomach roiling with guilt. She knew that Matteo found it hard to trust, that at some level he didn’t feel worth loving at all. She knew this and had still walked out on him. She couldn’t play at marriage again, not with him. She had to recognise that he was a work in progress, not the finished article, and so was she. She had to decide whether she was in, all the way in, no matter what the future held, or else she should walk out and go to Vietnam right now.

Love wasn’t enough. Commitment had to be part of the package too. Give and take and forgiveness and tolerance. He deserved it all.

And so did she.

The only question was, could they get there or was it already too late?

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS TIME. Every child was miraculously in the right costume, all hair had been styled, sprayed and glittered, stage make-up applied, and they were lined up in the correct groups. Every single guest dancer had been collected from various bus stops, train stations and airports, entertained, fed and watered to their pre-show requirements and shown to their dressing rooms. The audience was sitting expectantly in their seats, an eclectic mix of proud families, from great-grandmothers down to tiny siblings, seasoned ballet-goers who’d come to see Violeta and her partner and some of the rising stars from Italy and Europe’s best academies, and a handful of tourists who had bought tickets simply because they wanted to see a show.

Charlie stood in the wings peeping out at the audience and inhaled, trying to steady her nerves. She had done all she could. It was down to the kids now. Down to the kids, Lucia’s fierce organisational skills and Natalia’s excellent choreography. She knew that Natalia had managed to get here to watch her students and was sitting somewhere in the audience, but the children hadn’t been told so as to not get them even more overexcited or nervous than they already were. She moved her gaze to a reserved and empty seat near the front and tried to suppress her disappointed sigh. The other person she’d hoped to see was nowhere in sight. Matteo had, as predicted, not made it. And this time not even a word of apology, a curt offer to donate towards the cause or a casual promise to make his absence up to her.

Folding her hands, she breathed in long and deep, trying to steady the myriad emotions tumbling through her. The disappointment at Matteo’s absence, the nerves for the gala itself, the fear for her future. Pulling out her phone, she reread the message Lexi had sent earlier that day with details of flights from Rome and London over the next few days. She had her passport, her summer wardrobe and her jabs were up-to-date. There was nothing to stop her heading out the very next day if she wanted. Charlie waited for the usual hit of adrenaline the thought of an adventure gave her but she felt nothing but sadness.

The truth was that going to Vietnam would be a line drawn under her marriage for ever. Oh, she could justify it as a holiday; there was no way Matteo was in any position to quibble if she told him she’d decided she deserved some time away. She could tell herself that going to Vietnam was a sign that things were different now, that if they got back together she was no longer walking the martyr’s path of waiting for him whilst feeling sorry for herself. But she would be running away, no matter how she spun it, and there was no coming back from that.

The sound of applause woke her from her endlessly whirling thoughts as the programme director for the Villa Rufolo took to the stage to start the evening. Resolutely pushing all thoughts of Matteo from her mind, Charlie plastered on a smile and turned to the first group as they filed to the side of the stage. The youngest group were opening the gala, a huge task, but luckily, unlike the older girls and boys, who were fully aware of what a momentous occasion this was and had the nerves to match, her smallest dancers were just looking forward to getting out on stage and performing. Four assistants were stationed in the wings to dance alongside them in case anyone forgot the steps and Charlie herself was ready to dive on stage to rescue any child who might freeze or melt down.

But she needn’t have worried. The music began, the children tiptoed out to their spaces and the gala began, every child performing as if they had been born to it. And a couple of them had been, she thought, including Rosa, who danced her solo beautifully without a trace of nerves.

The evening went by in a blur. Charlie was responsible for about half an hour of the hour and a half programme, and even though she had stepped in late, every second was as spine-tingling, nerve-racking and exciting as every other show she had put on. This was what she loved, she realised, seeing the children that she had coached, coaxed and brought out of their shells