12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

Juliette

Nathaniel dropped me off at the door to the studio after our lunch date. It had been pleasant, and he was charming, and we had a lot in common.

And I kept checking my phone's clock because I had a to-do list long enough to bridge the gap between New York and Lisbon.

Plus, Caleb had reached out. I wanted to know about their session.

Instead of wishing the date wouldn't end, I found myself glad he was on a tight schedule.

Outside the studio door, Nathaniel loomed over me, dropping his voice and face to just a few inches from mine. "I had a great time, but I've got to clock back in."

I pointed over my shoulder to the door behind me. "My shift starts now." I smiled at him. It was nice to go on a date with someone who clearly was interested in me. He was so nice .

"Do you want to get dinner sometime?"

I had already decided over lunch, while oogling his muscular arms, that I would like a real date. He was kind and sweet. He wasn't very funny, but I was a serious type anyway. There could be chemistry between us, I thought as he leaned in, if nothing else.

"Please?" he added, eyes dipping to my lips.

I squirmed under his gaze. "Yes. I would like that." I owed it to myself to see where this would go. There was absolutely nothing about Nathaniel that repelled me. Everyone was right. I should date again.

Nate dropped a peck to my cheek, chaste and sexy and bold. I watched as he climbed into his truck, waving goodbye. I retreated into the studio only an hour left before classes started .

It was a miracle my phone hadn't burned a real hole in my purse while I ate my French onion soup and roasted chicken sandwich. I'd apologized to Nate for texting even though I felt zero remorse. It vibrated one last time in my purse after that and I had the decency not to check it on the ride home (even though it took a massive amount of energy not to). It unsettled me how much I wanted to talk to Caleb and end my date early. I needed to know how things were going with Kelsey more than I needed air. Or romance.

Deciding not to obsess over how my entire body felt a jolt of adrenaline as I swiped open Caleb's text, I read it over and over.

Anything you want. Try me.

I could hear the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. The direct, tactless way he blurted his thoughts that he would otherwise benefit from keeping as his inside voice. I liked the way I knew he was being completely serious—that if I named a price, he'd pay it. It made my insides twist and curl in on themselves.

Tell Kelsey my secrets are not for sale, I replied.

Caleb didn't say anything back. I turned to my computer and glanced at my overflowing inbox. I was getting a lot of inquiries about signing up for classes. So much so, that I had an automated response set up that placed the email on a wait-list. It wouldn't be a problem when I expanded, but for the for time being, it was overwhelming.

I opened each inquiry and placed the students based on age into the mock-up schedule I'd made for future expansion. This way I could project what the two extra rooms I was soon to have would be best used for.

The wretched phone kept calling my name. Reluctantly, I snatched it up.

How was therapy? I wrote and deleted the message twice before sending it.

That's what I needed to talk to you about. Caleb replied.

That bad?

I'll come in after class tonight. I'm in a meeting right now.

My heart dropped. I didn't want the conversation to end. I wanted to know more.

I set the phone face down next to my computer mouse and started editing a grant application. Not a single word came out of my fingers. Fuck it.

That sounds ominous.

Don't distract me, I'm doing very important things like shuffling papers and pretending to take notes.

Okay, Mr. I Can Buy Anything You Want. I'll leave you to that super hard high paying job.

A few grueling minutes passed before he responded. You should do stand-up. A second later he double-texted. In all seriousness, we can't talk about this over text. It's too complicated.

Okay. I'll see you after class, Mr. Ramirez.

Yes, Miss Juliette. What is your last name anyway?

Sorry, I'm very busy doing entrepreneur things.

I ended up being very unbusy. In my restlessness, I decided to tackle the costume closet for our upcoming performances. By the time I had separated some of the men's vests, Kelsey's voice called out for me.

"I'm back here!" I shouted over the music.

The instant I saw her body language, my heart leapt to my throat. "Hi, Miss Juliette." She greeted me with closed shoulders, arms folded across her chest with her hands splayed on her sides as if she were holding herself in an embrace.

"Hi, Kelsey. Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She twitched as if I'd caught her doing something bad. "Nothing."

I dropped the vests on the messy pile of tulle at my feet. "You look scared," I said, leaping over a pile of wrinkled costumes in desperate need of steaming.

"Caleb, um, took me to therapy today. Together."

"Oh?" I remembered to pose it as a question, to keep up my end of the illusion.

"Yeah. "

I waited for her to continue. My heart was gaining speed. Kelsey pressed her lips together, as if silencing herself, or finding the nerve to speak. "How did it go?" I asked when I could no longer stand the silence.

"Fine. Remember when you said I could live with you? Caleb said I could, if you still would let me."

Reeling, I nodded. "Of course. Of course, Kelsey. I'm here for you. No matter what. No questions asked."

"Thanks, Miss Juliette. Caleb said he was coming to talk to you later."

"Yeah, he texted me before. He didn't tell me anything, just that we needed to talk."

"Okay." Kelsey forced a wan smile. "Do you want me to set up the classroom?"

Our eyes locked together. Her gaze said everything she couldn't speak aloud.

Please don't ask me any questions. Please pretend this isn't happening. Please let me pretend everything is normal. Please let me escape.

I could hear her silent plea as if she were screaming in an empty room. It was like looking into a mirror of my younger self. I knew what the desire to escape into hours of ballet training felt like. Looked like. I saw it in the perfectly gelled down fly-aways, when Kelsey hardly ever used gel. Her leotard, tights, and ballet skirt, all matched with not a hole in sight on the tights. She had run her ballet shoes through the wash since the night before, they were spotless. Yet, all these details would hold less weight if it weren't for the way her expression betrayed every last attempt at control. The practiced smile didn't reach as far as the corners of her eyes. It hardly moved her cheeks.

This was the look of emotional exhaustion. I'd seen it in myself years ago when I was trying so hard to have a baby—sticking myself with needles, popping hormones like prescription candy, and peeing on sticks. Every. Single. Day. Regardless of package instructions. Because, if I could control anything, just a little bit of my day, make something into a reminder hope, it was peeing on all those fucking sticks.

Every single time, except once, there was only ever one pink line .

So, ballet had become the singular thing that gave me reprieve from that bottomless melancholy. I escaped into class every day and my career soared because of it. Others would say it was my ex-husband, the choreographer, who pushed my career. He and I both knew it was the devastation of learning that I would never hold a baby of my own, and that he would rather be childless than hold a baby that was not his. After all, he begged me throughout the divorce to stay with the company. He even threatened me with my contract as a soloist. But by then, I was done with the performance of joy.

Eventually, the place you escape to gets tainted with the same black fog you are running from.

That was when my former teacher offered me a job, veiled under the guise of helping me make money post-divorce. To help me get back on my feet, we said. In truth, teaching turned ballet from a place of escape to a place of healing.

A place and a career where I eventually felt real happiness again. Purpose. A calling.

She sold the studio to me shortly after, saying she needed to retire. To this day, I think she retired early because she wanted to give me the baby I could never have. In many ways, she had.

I smiled back at Kelsey, the two of us performing happiness, and replied finally, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

A room stuffed with fifteen toddlers in tutus had a way of creating just enough chaos to overshadow all other thoughts and feelings. I glanced at Kelsey who was busy peeling a toddler off the barre with her hands whilst holding back another with her outstretched leg. I had the other thirteen engaged in a game of mirroring emotions.

Well, engaged would be an overstatement, as the lesson I'd planned wasn't going particularly well. About half of them were glued to the mirrors, their little hands leaving imprints, and one (I noticed with horror) was licking her reflection.

"Miss Juliette," Kelsey shot me a look of SOS, "only gives stickers to good listeners," she finished. Her toddlers had gone jello-bodied, arms locked around her ankles as she walked through quicksand back to the group.

Our eyes met, like so many times before, and I mouthed, "Oh my God."

Kelsey stopped her journey towards me and looked down at the adorable little creatures at her feet. They rolled to their backs and giggled.

On the far corner of the room, one of my flock had gone mutinous and pulled a juggling scarf out of its bin. She raced across the room giggling maniacally and leapt right over one little girl who was laying down, seemingly contemplating the meaning of life.

"You know what, kids? If you're listening, hands on your head!" Half of them halted and touched their head. "If you're listening lay down like a log." The entire class dropped to the floor, Kelsey included.

I plucked the scarf from underneath the rebel, tickling her belly for good measure.

"I think Miss Kelsey will agree, that what we need is a brain break."

Kelsey rose, acting on the dog whistle. She headed towards the prop corner and listened for my instructions. A surge of affection prickled my bottom lash line. I blinked it away furiously as I whispered dramatically to the little girls. "Once upon a time, there was a witch," squeals from the kids who remembered this meant a game of freeze dance. Blank stares from those that didn't. "And all the faeries, who loved music," Kelsey opened the instrument box and started counting out maracas, "were put under a terrible spell."

"Miss Juwiet," a little one interrupted. She was wiggling with her legs crossed.

"Yes, darling, go find mommy."

She sprang up and bolted to the door.

Immediately a chorus of, "Miss Juwiet," ensued.

Kelsey and I shared another look of SOS as our usually well organized and exceptionally engaged toddler class was falling apart.

"When the music is on," Kelsey cut me off, "we do what?" She handed out the maracas on hyper speed .

"Dance!"

"When it stops?"

"The witch freeze!" they answered.

I played the music and the room erupted in sound and movement. Kelsey and I danced toward each other. She whispered, "This is going great."

"They're three," I grabbed Kelsey's hands and we modeled gentle partner play, "it's like this sometimes. Embrace the chaos. Let's do sensory play for the next fifteen. Scarves, silent sailors, then hoops."

"Got it. Then tumbling?" she said.

I thought about it for a split second. "If," I emphasized that word and Kelsey grinned, "they actually silent sailor, then tumbling."

I paused the music, and they all froze the best they could. A tap on my phone and they erupted into chaos again.

"We could do tunnel instead," Kelsey suggested.

"See, this is why I keep you around."

The kids happened to comply with staying absolutely silent during a game I designed to practice balance and re-engage learning. However, Kelsey had been right to forego tumbling this class because the kids were still a little squirmy when asked to sit and wait their turn. Bringing out the tunnel was a better activity that allowed us to teach each child individually and reward them with a crawl through the tunnel. Kelsey was one of the best assistants I had, able to think on her feet and teach with me. By the end of class we were sweating.

"Happy Almost-Spring," I nudged Kelsey's shoulder with mine as we chugged water between classes.

"It's got to be a full moon." She pulled out her phone. "A quick google search determined that is the truth."

I chuckled. Of course it was a full moon. That explained everything.

Her class started filtering into the studio, stretching on the barre, chatting quietly.

"Good thinking with the tunnel."

"Yeah, I lost my mind initially suggesting tumbling."

"I wasn't going to say it. "

Kelsey chuckled, wiped her brow, and for a moment I thanked the moon for bringing us chaos, so that it was easier for Kelsey to forget.

"No. Again."

I watched my class repeat the grand allegro across the floor and stopped the music again midway. "No! You look like a heard of zebra." The girls chuckled. "Scared and huddled together. Spread out. Your steps must flow together, equidistant. Ana, you're very tall, you cannot take steps that big. David, you cannot cross over the girls. If anything, you allow them to upstage you ."

I noticed Kelsey waiting for her correction, but I couldn't bring myself to it. I clapped my hands twice and they lined up in their formation again.

Four by four my class danced across the room, perfectly positioned arms and legs. Poorly positioned formations. I had to make the decision whether to stop the music again or not. The technique was good, so I let them continue. When all the groups had passed, I stopped the music and stood from my stool next to the stereo.

I picked out two girls and a boy who were very good at formations and asked a student to press play. "Technique was good. Formations were not so good. Watch how they adjust to my stride because I am front and center. Music, please." The piano allegro began as we all took a collective breath in.

A figure in the viewing window caught my eye just as the eight count ended. I ignored the way my insides jumped at the warm brown eyes and lopsided grin that caught mine. I chose not to acknowledge why I made the split-second decision to really perform instead of displaying my usual demonstrative technique (which lacked that spark of passion I felt when performing). Because if I thought about it, I...

I could blame it on the full moon.

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight-and-a," I counted us in .

In my arabesque, I glanced at Caleb again in the mirror, his arms folded across his chest, eyes on me. Lips moving. He must be talking to Cora.

My students fed off my energy. In turn, I could feel theirs. This was the exhilarating part of teaching. The part of performing that I missed. We moved as one perfectly spaced diamond, my students taking bigger steps to adjust to my stride. I was forcing them, with the way I utilized the space, to also take risks and push themselves to their limit. I raised the bar and they reached for it.

Together, we felt that exquisite rush of adrenaline that generated a palpable aura around us. Four bodies of energy feeding from one another's momentum. When it's like that—the hyper-awareness of the people around you, your own body, all the minute decisions you make in tandem to strive for perfection, everyone's energy working in tempo—there is no elation that compares.

God, I love ballet, I thought as we all breathed as one right before pushing off the floor to leap.

I landed with a lift of my chin, checked the mirror for my student's landings, and stepped into position for the turns. One of my girls, a particularly good jumper, landed last, a hair off the music, as always. A live orchestra would struggle with her one day because every time she leapt she floated at the top longer than everyone else, and they would have to adjust the music for her. The conductor would hate it, but the audience would be left gasping.

My eyes flicked to Caleb's. He was staring. An illogical excitement twitched at the corners of my lips, coupled with a viscous drop of misplaced satisfaction.

One of the dancers struggled slightly to keep up towards the end of the turn sequence. I caught her giving up and hollered, "Push! Up! Up!" repeating the words in time with the music, forcing her to catch up.

She did.

Nothing else ever felt quite the same as watching a student overcome their demons and succeed .

We posed, pausing the full four beats of the next measure. I clapped for them and turned to the rest of the class. "This is how it's done! If I don't feel your joy from across the room, you're doing it again!"

The four of us dropped our poise and panted, chasing oxygen. I bent over, digging my fingertips into my knees. The girls were laughing, chattering together, and hanging on to one another for life-support, huge grins across their lovely faces. David, like Kelsey, was known for his stoicism, and even he was laughing with the others.

They'd felt it too, that rush from performing that made us feel like we were soaring. Invincible.

Four by four they danced across the studio floor. The energy in the room swelled like the tide of an ocean, stained vibrant shades of orange and yellow by the rising sun. These were the moments that gave my life meaning.

Kelsey was smiling.

This was what I lived for.

"Left side!" I shouted above the music right before the turns, assembling all my dancers to mark the left side with me before crossing on their own. Without stopping, I flipped the choreography and laughed with them as they stumbled and struggled behind me. Some of them danced beautifully, while others turned in the wrong direction and leapt on the wrong count. On that last eight, I called out for them to line up and they all scurried back to the right side of the room, fighting over who would go last.

Kelsey stepped forward to go first, always favoring a challenge. Ana, David, and another exceptional dancer, formed a diamond behind her. They went across the room, as I caught my breath and fought the urge to look at Caleb.

Irritated by the nagging distraction, I scolded myself. What do you think you're going to see there? He doesn't know anything about ballet. He's probably judging you and doesn't even know how hard …

Awestruck.

Eyes on me. On mine. As if I were the only specimen under a looking glass .

Caleb had that look, like the first time at the zoo, seeing the world's most precious animals up close. A reverence that made me blush with a mixture of embarrassment, pride, and this odd discomfort—like I regretted making him look.

Because I had made him look.

I could have easily danced without performing.

He broke eye contact and watched each group go by, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a soft smile across his lips. Shame zipped up my chest, as my gut reaction was to expect the worst of him and again, he was simply existing as this... man... this enigma. This thorn in my side that I was jealous of, that I promised to be an ally to. Caleb made me act out of character, feel out of character.

Caleb waved at Kelsey, and I winced at the way she turned bright red and ignored his existence.

Never wave through the glass. God, don't you know anything? That's parenting 101.

I turned my attention back to the dancers and sighed at the sickled feet of one of my newer students. "Long ankles! Extend the line out from your center. Use the outer tendon to wing the foot!" She got it, finally, and corrected her form. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I nodded. When her group finished, I raised my hands and clapped. The class clapped and thanked me. I curtseyed to them, and several followed my lead. They were beat.

I wanted to get to Caleb before he could embarrass Kelsey again.

Standing in the doorframe, I wiped my brow. "How can I help you?"

Caleb's wide-eyed gaze incinerated me, licking up my legs and sending a hot wave of nerves up my exposed neck. I smoothed my skirt. Juliette, get a grip. I had performed for thousands of people, and I was going molten at his gaze?

Get. A. Grip.

He cleared his throat. "We have to talk."

I glanced over his shoulder. A few curious eyes peeked at us from the doorway of the dressing room .

I hopped down the studio step into the hallway and passed him. He'd just showered, or shaved, because I could smell the soap on him. Something woodsy and spicy. I smelled like sweat and deodorant and my fringe was piecey. The fine hair along my nape stuck to it.

"Good night, everyone. Tell mom happy birthday for me!" I called out to my students, hurrying them. "In my office," I murmured to him. The dancers were loitering in the dressing room to catch a shred of gossip. I left Cora to deal with that.

"Hey, Kelsey, do you mind waiting in the car while I talk to Miss Juliette?" Caleb reached into his jeans, that fit a little too snugly, and passed her the lone rental key.

"Thanks," she mumbled then melted into the crowd of students once more.

Caleb followed me down the hallway into my cramped office, that was more like a storage closet. I had to push in my chair for the two of us to fit. I pressed the back of my thighs into my desk so that Caleb could squeeze through the doorway and take the side opposite me. He turned his back to my wall of shelves littered with boxes of shoes, legwarmers, sweaters, books, and paperwork. The clean scent of his soap enveloped the room, drowning out the faint citrusy smell of the lonely candle behind him.

Normally, with parents, I closed the door behind us when we needed privacy for a difficult discussion, and left it open when what we needed was a quick chat. After several hours of forgetting that Caleb and I would be sharing this space, it was difficult to close the door. Once I closed that door, the high of teaching would end and reality would come back.

We both glanced at the door, and then each other, before I reached out and closed us into the cramped space together.

"First I, uh, owe you money," Caleb said.

I had forgotten about tuition, too. I waved him off. "I was thinking we should just, start from zero."

"I want to pay Kelsey's account balance," he said firmly, pulling out his wallet.

Shit .

A devilish bemusement lit his gaze, "Is it that bad?"

I made a face without realizing it. He raised his brows as if to ask the question again. "Maybe you might want to talk about a payment plan?" I turned, leaned over my desk, and pulled up Kelsey's account on my laptop.

Caleb cleared his throat and reached over my shoulder for a pen. Not a millimeter of our bodies touched, but I felt every inch of him beside me, behind me, over me. As if he were made of some energy that radiated a two-inch aura and I had felt his atmosphere encroach on mine. I held my breath for that second, and exhaled slowly when I felt his presence retreat.

I became aware, all of a sudden, of how inappropriately small my office was to be in with a father. I wished I had thrown on a tee-shirt before talking to him. I wished I was wearing a proper bra. My leotard had a sports-bra built in, but it was meant for nipple concealment, and was undetectable. Did Caleb notice, from behind me, that I wasn't wearing what he knew to be a bra? All the dads knew leotards came with them built in, but Caleb didn't know. Did he?

"I hate bills. How much is it?" he asked, unaffected by our proximity the second before.

"Six thousand four hundred and thirty-five dollars."

Caleb barked out a laugh, coughing on the number as he repeated it.

"She hasn't paid me in a very long time," I said. "I stopped sending her bills because I didn't want Kelsey to see." I didn't dare turn around, unsteady as I was. Instead, I switched tabs and pretended I was looking at another part of Kelsey's account.

"Wow. I'm so sorry. Who do I write the check out to? Check is better than card, right? So that you don't pay fees."

The torturous moment of panic passed, and I turned to see that he shifted aside a box of lace fans and was waiting for my reply. "You don't have to give it to me all at once," I said. I twisted my ballet skirt so tightly I could feel the blood pulsing in my fingertips because money made me uncomfortable. Money was Cora's job .

Caleb tore off the check and handed it to me. "Fine, you put in the name. How much is the tuition for the rest of the year?" Caleb had beautiful handwriting, perfectly spaced as if punched into a typewriter except for the way his t's were crossed on an angle. His signature was an illegible scribble after a large C and R, though.

I did some math and rattled off a less obscene amount.

"That's a cute little calculator," Caleb wrote out another check.

I grinned at the pink glittery calculator and looked around my desk. "My students got me all the office supplies. They're sweet."

Double-checking the amount on the calculator, he said absentmindedly, "It's obvious how much you love what you do."

My mouth dropped open, all witty replies caught in my throat. "I love the kids," I managed.

"I'm sure they can tell when you compare them to animals of the African savAnah." His smile tipped just the right side of his lips up, a little groove encasing it like a parenthesis as he passed me the check.

He didn't notice my attire, I realized with relief. There were no signs of leering. I shrugged, smiling. "They know it comes from love. And it's true. If you run like a water buffalo, I refuse to say you look like a gazelle."

Caleb's lip twitched and his whole expression fell. This man would be a terrible liar. Everything he was thinking showed right there on his face. "Did Kelsey talk to you?"

Speaking of African elephants… I stopped processing his check and tucked it away. This conversation was more important. My office became claustrophobic again. "Yes. What happened today?"

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "I sort of lost control of the situation." He chuckled humorlessly. "I bribed Kelsey into liking me by saying we would ask if you could take her in for two weeks in exchange for buying a new house and having dinner for real. She said you already offered. So, can she?"

"Of course she can. But, I'm getting whiplash. This is going to make things more difficult; you see that right?"

Caleb

"Yes?" I wasn't following her.

"Do you see how this looks a lot like shared custody?"

I did not. Aware that this plan had severe flaws, such as Kelsey and Juliette seeing this as a way to cut me out forever, I listed all of the pros I spent the day emphasizing in my own mind. "But Kelsey promised to look at houses with me, and to hang out every day. We are going running. Plus, we had a real conversation at lunch. Just the possibility of living with you caused some progress."

Juliette stopped twisting her skirt and crossed her arms instead. She raised a brow. "I don't count gossiping about me as meaningful conversation."

"We didn't only talk about you. That's beside the point. She didn't say a word in therapy until I bribed her. I call this a win."

Juliette was so striking she made me forget how to speak. I was rambling again, seemingly forgetting syntax and social norms as I chattered away.

The office was so cramped that her gaze felt laser focused on mine. I was supposed to be… be firm and set boundaries… and… she... she... her eyes were so blue and the freckles on her flushed cheeks were so...

Absolutely out of the realm and scope of this conversation! What the fuck?

"It certainly feels like a win for me. But I'm not supposed to be in this equation. The point of therapy was to make Caleb," she held up her left hand, "and Kelsey," she held up her right, then clasped her hands together.

Juliette's jawline was something spectacular. Cheek bones stained pink from dancing. The ballerina charm clung to her damp chest.

The sounds of the students lingering for some gossip in the lobby died away and I listened to Cora call out her goodbye. "I was desperate, and I made a quick judgement call. I trust you. Kelsey trusts you." The admission hung in the air between us, Juliette considered them carefully. "It felt like the right thing to do."

Juliette's hand reached out to bridge the gap between us. She opened the door instead. There, at the hollow between her collarbones, her heart was racing. "You trust me?" she said with an edge of sarcasm.

"Two weeks, no more. Just long enough for you to work some pro-Caleb propaganda into her system."

"I'll be around Saturday after class to come get her." Juliette exited the office and disappeared into one of the studios.

Is she cutting me off? She was definitely cutting me off.

Because she was the only person I could talk to, I ignored her efforts when she reemerged. "Do you think Kelsey wants to take more classes?"

"She already takes everything I offer." Juliette spoke to me as she shut off all the lights down the hallway, cloaking me in darkness, leaving her silhouetted in the lobby. I tried to look away—I did—but the way Juliette padded down the corridor, toes first, spine relaxed, she looked different to me today. She wasn't rod straight and all prim and proper. I could see the outline of her legwarmers slouched around her calves, the slight flutter of her black skirt as her hips swayed. Her foot popped up as she reached around the doorway to the first studio to shut off the lights.

There was nothing sexual about the way I watched her, but rather a curious enchantment. I'd never seen anyone move like Juliette. Like watching a gripping film in another language with no subtitles and trying to figure out the plot. I knew, instinctively, that her body language meant something, but I couldn't read it. I didn't think she trusted me enough to let me read it yet.

We didn't have a choice anymore, we had to trust each other.

"I asked, but she wouldn't tell me if she needed anything," I said.

"Maybe a new pair of shoes. But that can wait another two weeks or so." The whirring of lights and air conditioning halted.

"Okay."

"She has to be fitted. Maybe, wait until she mentions it to you. Kelsey isn't used to being spoiled. I know her mom used to go on shopping sprees and give her the world, but it was sporadic. Kelsey," Juliette paused, considering her words carefully, "couldn't rely on her. Hopefully, you'll be more steady."

"I plan on it," I shrugged.

"I'll text you the pointe shoe shop's location. She's an old friend. We danced together eons ago."

"Did you dance professionally?"

"I was in City Ballet."

"Cool." Lame, Caleb. Fucking lame .

Juliette got that almighty grin again. "You have no idea what that means."

"I will be googling when I get home."

"Please don't. I was in the corps most of my career, you won't find anything." Something in the way she rolled her eyes and laughed nervously told me she was lying.

"What's your last name?" I asked her again.

Earlier, via text, she evaded the question. She did so again, with a cheeky grin as she pulled a sweater over her head. "I don't have one. Like Cher, or Madonna."

"That famous then, huh?"

"That's why I can charge what I do."

"Apparently! Looks like you can buy me anything I want in an extortion scheme."

"With your money," Juliette pressed her lips together to suppress her laugh.

"Adding insult to injury."

We laughed together for a brief second. From her slouched posture, I guessed she had resigned herself to this, we both had. We were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, and we might as well be nice—well, I was always nice, she was the bristly one.

I followed her out of the studio and watched her lock up.

"See you tomorrow," Juliette said, hiking her bag up her shoulder.

"Have a good night," I said.

We stood there for a beat. The chilly spring air blew the tendrils of hair that had fallen from her bun, tickling her cheeks. She nodded twice and forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes, didn't show her teeth. I didn't know enough about her to figure out what that meant.

I didn't take more than two strides towards the car before I heard Juliette's voice call out. "Caleb, wait." I turned and she gestured for me to follow her. "There is this one thing, for Kelsey. Come, let me show you."

I followed her back into the dark lobby, where she didn't turn on any lights, rather relied on the streetlamp pouring in through the enormous bay window. I lost sight of her as she went around the reception desk.

"I never brought this up with Erin, because she made it very clear she didn't want Kelsey to be a dancer." Juliette stepped back into the light of the window, handing me a brochure. We stood there, half-shadowed, and completely silent. "There's a summer intensive some of her classmates are auditioning for. I know Kelsey wants this. If you let her audition, I know she'd get in."

I took the olive branch. Our fingers touched in the dark. "Okay. I'll give this to her and make it clear I want her to go."

"Well, here's the thing. At the end of the summer session, the company often awards exceptional dancers a spot in their school."

"You think Kelsey would be offered that spot?"

The cadence of Juliette's sentences tumbled to a gallop as she took a step back and explained. "I know she will. They board in the city, and they're home schooled through high school graduation. Most students go on to very prestigious careers. I would know, because I went there. I would bring this up at a more appropriate time, but the deadline is next week. It's a bigger decision for Kelsey than it is for my other students. Not that they would never be offered a place, but I just have a feeling about Kelsey. As teachers, you only get one, maybe two, students in your entire career that have it … whatever it is… she has it. So, please, consider it. I know it sounds crazy, but Kelsey is starting to age out of opportunities like this."

"She's only fifteen," I protested.

"I tried to get Erin to send her at age eleven."

"Why would you be giving her up to another school? "

"Because if she truly wants a career, this is what's best for her. I was what was best until now."

"Can she say no to the offer?"

"Of course she can. But she won't."

"This means I definitely won't ever be going back to California." The full weight of this realization that had taken weeks to rise, fully broke the horizon. My life on the west coast was over. It didn't scare me or feel confusing or overwhelming. Instead, I felt a calm, like the breeze on a tall grassy pasture. Almost excited by the inevitable.

Juliette didn't pick up on this, she spoke with a controlled panic. "Well, you could. I'll take her during shorter breaks. Then on long breaks she would go to you... we could work it out. We're already setting the precedent."

Stop looking at me like that.

Wide-eyed. As if she were begging. I already said it before. I would give Kelsey the world. Juliette didn't need to plead with me to do that.

"I'll show this to Kelsey. Thank you," I said.

"Text me if you have any questions."

I led us out of the studio once more. "No need. I trust your judgement."

Juliette locked the door and this time she smiled for real. "Goodnight, then, Caleb."

"Night, Juliette." We stood together for an awkward beat before I left her and listened to her car door open several spots away. "It's all settled," I said, dropping into the driver's seat. Kelsey looked up from her phone and turned off the screen. "She's coming Saturday to pick you up."

"Okay."

"What's Juliette's last name?"

"Why?"

"I want to google her."

Kelsey looked as if I had said I wanted to dismember her body and throw it into the Hudson River.

"Uh, that's really creepy. "

She was right. I should have prefaced the conversation. "What's City Ballet?"

Kelsey's brows touched her hairline. She sneered, mocking my ignorance. "One of the most prestigious ballet companies in the U.S."

"Did you know Juliette danced there?"

"Yeah. She was a big deal until her divorce."

"Divorce?" Of course, Juliette had already told me about the divorce, but maybe Kelsey would give me the details. The deets.

"She was married to the choreographer. She left the company when Miss Eve, the other owner, retired and left the studio to Miss Juliette. I think that's why they divorced, because she gave up her career to run the studio. Miss Juliette doesn't talk about it, really, so nobody knows the whole truth. All Miss Eve and Miss Juliette said was that Miss Eve was retiring and leaving the studio to her. She claims her passion was teaching, not performing. I think that's bullshit."

Meanwhile, Juliette had the nerve to say talking about her wasn't a valid form of communication. "She looks like she loves teaching," I said.

"Well, yeah. I know she loves it. C'mon, who gives up a position as a soloist to teach anywhere but The Academy?"

"Am I supposed to know what The Academy is?"

"Best school in the country."

"Right. Is that what most dancers do?"

"When you're in the company, you get a job at The Academy, or some other pre-professional school, when you retire from the stage. Or you become a choreographer for a company somewhere. Why do you care anyway? Miss Juliette's studio is a pipeline straight into a company, so you don't have to worry… she's overqualified for this job."

I parked in the driveway, sullen that this moment of conversation would end now. "I wasn't questioning if she was qualified. She told me not to google her, which is a red flag, right?"

"You said you were going to google her? Out loud!?" Kelsey laughed. "That's so awkward!"

She was probably right. I was long past shame when it came to Juliette. She'd already seen me cry, what was a little bit of cringe in the grand scheme of things? "I was kidding. I only said that because she wouldn't tell me how she knows the woman who owns the pointe shoe shop."

"Why were you talking about the pointe shoe shop?"

"I asked her if you needed anything."

"I don't."

"When you need new shoes, let me know and I'll take you to get fitted."

"I don't need new shoes."

"Okay."

"Okay."

There it was again. The wall between us. Back in place.

When we got into the house, I unfolded the pamphlet and gave it to Kelsey. "Juliette gave me this. She wants you to audition for the summer intensive."

Kelsey's straight, dark brows furrowed. "You'll let me go?"

I smiled over at her. "Of course. Why wouldn't I want you to be a famous ballerina?"

"I'll think about it," she responded in a tone of pure skepticism.

I waited until I was sure Kelsey was asleep before I googled Juliette, figured out her stage name, and went down the rabbit hole of YouTube. I didn't know bodies could defy gravity like that.

I was so entranced watching a full-length ballet (that was most definitely pirated off a DVD) that I nearly dropped my phone when it vibrated in my palm. I ignored the text, swiping up to get rid of the banner. Juliette was supposedly in the cast, but I couldn't point her out. The date was several years prior to the last video of her as a soloist, so I searched much too closely for comfort for her among what seemed to be at least fifty milkmaids. When they were all still, there were clearly only about fifteen of them. When they moved it was like they multiplied, and it was one of those games where you try and keep your eye on the cup with the ball inside.

My phone vibrated again.

Vikki was calling.

I groaned. Outwardly .

I crept down the hallway and pressed the phone to my ear as I slipped out the back door. "Hey," I whispered as if I hadn't just ignored her text to watch my daughter's dance teacher like a fucking stalker.

"I miss you," Vikki whined.

"Do you?" I replied, rolling my eyes to the stars. We weren't together like that, and I doubted she missed me at all. Vikki was a very strong, fiercely independent woman.

"When are you coming home?"

"We've been over this, several times since I got here."

Her tone switched instantly, "I just can't believe you're ruining your whole life over this."

There it was. The real reason she was calling. I didn't want to have this fight again. I sighed and kept my voice low in case Kelsey wasn't sleeping.

"She's my daughter. Again, what part about that don't you understand?"

"She's a kid, you can pack her up and bring her here. I don't think you miss me."

She would be correct.

In the past few weeks, I had seen a side of her that was selfish, and I had to keep reminding myself that we got along well just to pick up the phone. I repressed the negative feelings and rationalized that when things settled down, Vikki would also settle down. We'd go back to being happy together and seeing where our relationship would go.

Which was probably ending things. It was becoming obvious to me that we were doomed. However, I didn't want to end things in a fight or over the phone and those were our only two options at the moment, as she only ever called to chew me out.

She was a good person except for her reaction to me being a father. She didn't deserve to be dumped over the phone.

"Caleb, what the fuck! Are you even listening?"

No. I hadn't been because she hadn't said anything new. "Yeah, I know it's hard for you. I've been consoling you every night, but this is the reality now." It had come out harsher than I intended .

"You're really choosing this over me? I know I said we were having fun when we talked last time, but it's hurtful that you left with no plans to come back."

"We've been together for three months and you still don't call me your boyfriend to our mutual friends—"

I held the phone away from my ear as she verbally assaulted me. "I'm losing my patience! I'm not waiting around for you! I'm not wasting my time waiting for you to have your mid-life crisis and then decide to come back to your real life."

"So don't wait," I snapped.

"You're fucking joking."

I reined in my frustration. "No, I'm not. Pease don't scream at me."

"Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"No. Just. I'm not yelling so please don't yell." Like putting the cork back onto a shaken bottle of champagne.

"Are you serious? Did you just tell me not to wait for you?"

"Kelsey is not a mid-life crisis. The way you talk about her and me and this whole thing is… is… unacceptable." I winced at my own pathetic choice of words. What was I, a second grade teacher? Unacceptable. Could I be any less embarrassing?

Vikki laughed on the other end, the mocking tone slicing into me. " You said it was okay for me to move in. You asked us if we were going to take this to the next level. I was fine just fucking. I only asked to stay until I found an apartment of my own."

"Vikki, please don't bring this up as ammunition. The apartment is not why we're fighting here. You can stay however long you want."

"You led me on. You said it was okay if you never had kids. I was very clear I never want kids. Then you just get this call from that stranger and ruin everything? Now you wAna play daddy to some random woman's daughter. She didn't even want her."

I swallowed a ball of shocked anger down my throat. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say any of that."

"Right, because you never want to actually get to the root of a problem. I think I might have overstayed my welcome."

"Yeah, maybe you have." The words fell out before I had time to cut off my traitorous tongue. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take it back. Unable to apologize or say I didn't mean it. I stood there, back against the brick wall, feeling more emotions than could fit inside my chest.

Vikki gasped. "You don't mean that. We're both really upset and miss each other. Let's talk about this tomorrow." Vikki's voice was candy apple sweet. "Love you," she added after the two-minute silence.

We hadn't ever said I love you before. "Yeah," I replied. "I'm busy tomorrow. Saturday I'm helping Kelsey with something, and then we're going to dinner."

"I'm sorry, babe. I think my kitty misses you."

The words sickened me. "Now isn't the time, Vikki."

"If you were here, we could have makeup sex."

An even longer empty silence followed. I had nothing to say to her.

"I said I love you," she sing-songed.

I didn't know what she expected from me. To leave Kelsey? For Vikki who had told me that we should slow down when I asked if we were official? For her, after she made a solid case for not defining what we were to each other? And after everything she just said?

Leaving Kelsey was not an option, not even on my radar.

What kind of a man did she think I was?

Weaponizing the word "love" to smooth over a fight that had finally gotten nasty enough for her to give me an ultimatum, it soured in my gut. I knew Vikki was hot-headed and often said things she didn't mean. But this... the way it all came out so effortlessly, as if she'd practiced... it felt genuine. The words I love you felt as empty as a black hole. I felt like I was seeing her for the first time, and I didn't want to.

That would mean I did it again, put my heart in the wrong place, hoped this someone would be the one to settle down with, ignoring all the red flags along the way. It would mean admitting that I was still a pathetic, hopeless romantic who believed I would one day find someone who wanted me.

Someone who knew me.

The thoughts kept me up well past midnight.