Last night, I bought her a test.
This morning, the test said positive.
"I'm confused, Novah. Are you not happy about this?" I loosened my grip on her and took a small step back so I could see her face.
"I'm scared. I've waited for this moment for years, and I'm scared it's not real. What if the test is wrong? What if I'm not really pregnant?"
I couldn't stifle my laugh, which earned me a slap across my upper arm. "We've been through this how many times, Novah? The chances of a false positive are slim to none. You haven't gotten your period, you're emotional, your boobs hurt … and now you have a test confirming it. What more do you need to become excited?"
She bit her bottom lip, staring at the white stick on the counter. The two lines. "We're really having another baby?" she asked with soft words, her voice so quiet I almost didn't hear her.
"Yes … we're having a baby."
She turned her attention to me, her tears falling in waves down her face. Suddenly, a smile took hold of her lips at the same time a cry mixed with a laugh bubbled through her chest. Her hands immediately covered her mouth.
Reality had set in.
I knew that feeling better than anyone. It had happened to me several times over the years, ever since Novah had come back into my life. It was the moment when your eyes finally open and you're able to see the truth right in front of you.
"You should call your parents," I said after kissing her forehead. I knew they'd want to hear the good news. They had been there for us so many times over the years when the pain of failed attempts had become too much for us to handle.
My dad never made it to the White House. He hadn't been elected in the primary, which ended his run. I'd never tell him, but I'd voted for him even though he hadn't contacted me after I'd walked out on him the night at his banquet. In fact, he didn't initiate contact with me until Nathan was born.
Things were still strained between the two of us, but I never let that get to me. I had Novah's parents-who'd moved back home after we had gotten pregnant with Nathan. They were the support system we needed, and the parents I craved.
I still had my mom, who I talked to about once a month and saw a few times a year. However, it didn't matter if I had no one … Novah was all I needed.
Novah and Nathan.
And now this baby, as well.
If anyone were to ask me the definition of beauty … I'd tell them to open their eyes and look around. They'd see it. Just as long as they were looking.
* * *
Adrianna, the gymnast at Novah's studio, is in Balance by Lucia Franco. Keep reading to get an exclusive sneak peek at the forbidden love in Balance.
"Balance" sneak peek
Balance
by Lucia Franco
Book 1 in the Off Balance series
Summer 2016
Copyright © 2015 by Lucia Franco
All Rights reserved.
"Any coach who has been coaching for ten years and says he never fell in love with an athlete or vice versa is lying."
Anonymous
* * *
WARNING
This is a forbidden romance story between a coach and a gymnast.
Reader discretion is advised.
* * *
Chapter 1
"Absolutely not!" My father's voice boomed around his home office.
"You haven't even heard what I have to say," I argued.
"I don't care what you have to say. You can talk until you're blue in the face. You are not moving to New Hampshire. End of discussion."
"Dad, just listen. Gymnastics – "
"I've made my decision and it's not changing. Now, please, I have work to do."
My dad was being unreasonable. He wouldn't even let me speak. The East Coast was home to one of the best gymnastics facilities in the country and I was going to prove it to him. All my weeks of research were not going to be wasted. I wasn't going to give up, I just had to try harder.
"It's renowned for its coaching and athletes," I pressed on.
"No." He gave me his infamous look, the one that could make a grown man flinch.
I stood my ground. This was my future and I had to fight for it. As much as I would miss my current gym, they were no longer useful to me. There were only so many extra hours of conditioning and private classes I could take. Advancement in this sport required the proper training, and I wasn't going to get it at Palm Beach Gymnastics.
"Transferring to another gym isn't unheard of. A lot of families send their gymnasts to train at a better facility."
"Adrianna Marie Rossi!"
"Just hear me out! Please." I was on the verge of tears. My mother would no doubt sniff them in the air and be on me in seconds. Tears showed weakness, and a Rossi never showed weakness – at least according to her.
Dad didn't respond, instead he just stared right through me.
Blowing out a loud, aggravated breath, I stood up and peered out the window. His office overlooked the expansive, lush lawn in our backyard. Over to the right, the late afternoon sun reflected off the pool. Our home was located on the prestigious Palm Beach Island. We had everything money could buy. Everything except a great one-of-a-kind gymnastics coach and a world class gym.
Turning back to my dad, I took in the flare of his nostrils and flexed jaw. He had become eerily calm. I knew this side of him, and it wasn't pretty. This was a side that nobody dared to test. The room grew cold and goose bumps broke out on my skin.
I had pushed too far.
"Go," he said. "Now." His voice was a growl before dismissing me to return to his work.
I fled his office and retreated to my bedroom, slamming the door just as the tears started to fall.
Gymnastics was my everything. It was my heart and soul, the air I breathed. I've rotated between eating, sleeping, and flipping for as long as I could remember. The competiveness, the challenge of mastering a new skill. The way I defied gravity – my heart soaring, the sound of applause, and the gasp from the audience – made the sacrifice worth every bit of pain and manipulation my body went through. Nothing could take that feeling away.
It was the one thing that allowed me to be me. To express myself creatively in the way I chose, not how someone else decided for me. It was the one place I could be free from the restraints of my family's name.
My name is Adrianna Rossi. I'm fifteen, and a competitive gymnast. Elite gymnast, to be exact. Or I would be, as soon as the new season started.
To become an elite gymnast, you had to compete in all ten levels and qualify for the title based on scoring. Last season, I competed at level ten and won numerous awards. It was only a matter of time before I claimed the title. I trained day in and day out for this. My days consisted of four hours of training in the gym a day, a tutor to homeschool me, and a private chef to prepare my calculated caloric meals. I couldn't be more ready.
As I fell onto my bed, devastation hit me hard. The rejection crushed my heart and it felt like my dreams were being ripped away.
The Olympics, like most hungry gymnasts, was my ultimate goal. But unlike most, I could achieve it.
If I charted the training along with my age, I could possibly compete in my first Olympic Games by eighteen. Possibly, being the key word. While fifteen was young in the real world, it was considered the prime age in the gymnastics world. It wasn't unheard of to compete in the games at that late of an age. One of my favorites, Svetlana Khorkina, competed until she was twenty-five years old and in three Olympics, the first being when she was seventeen. Another gymnast, Oksana Chusovitina, competed in six Olympic Games, also starting when she was seventeen. So my goal wasn't completely farfetched. I just needed the proper training. I was good, but I wanted to be great.
Though I was young, I wasn't naïve. I knew I needed to crack down and be pushed. Knew what kind of mental and physical abuse my body would go through in order to reach that level. I needed a drill sergeant with a sharp eye.
Needed it, and wanted it.
Honestly, I didn't understand why my dad objected to me leaving. I knew he thought gymnastics was more of a hobby, but he'd always done anything to placate me. He never told me no and usually threw money at what my heart desired. It wasn't like he spent much time at home. Frank Rossi was too occupied with expanding and maintaining his real estate empire. Rossi Enterprises was one of the top developers, with properties worldwide. He left my mom in charge of raising us kids, which was a joke.
When I first began at three years old, my mother used to sit at my practices and attend my meets. It was all about appearances back then, but I was also young so she really didn't have much of a choice. However, the older I got, the less of an effort she made. I think the last meet she came to was when I was twelve years old. Mom was usually too busy with her charity work or trying to keep my older brother, Xavier, out of the media.