I was going with that. It felt more comfortable in that situation.

Just two adults raising the same child, getting to know each other to make things easier and less complicated.

“I’m sure Emily could watch Nova.”

“You don’t want to take her with us?”

An eighteen-month-old? At a football game in October? In Seattle?

But before I could say anything, he waved his hand. “Never mind. You’re right. It would be a good idea if it were just us two. Media doesn’t usually care about me, but I don’t want them to start now.”

Media. Right. The gossip bloggers. This was never an issue in my life.

I was struck again at how similar but so different our lives were.

I needed to get out of there. I needed to dance but not here. Not so close to him.

“Do you—” I paused. No. I needed to ask. “Do you mind being here for Nova until Emily shows? I want to go somewhere right now. Maybe a walk in the gardens.”

An emotion flickered in his eyes, but he nodded. “I can be here all day if you need that? I know you like having Emily, but you’re more hands-on than most parents with nannies.”

I was because I had that privilege. I had the time, and I was in a situation where I could pay for help. It meant a great deal to me. I wanted to soak up as much Nova time as possible, but I needed to be somewhere not here right now.

My legs were itching for it.

“Thank you.”

I fled after that, totally fled. I had my purse in hand, the coffee with me, and I was pulling out of the driveway within five minutes. From there, I didn’t have a set location in mind, but body memory must’ve taken over.

I pulled up outside an old studio I used to go to. It was one that was always open for dancers.

No one else was there, so I programmed the music and went to the barre.

“Quincey?”

I stiffened but turned.

Matthew Chiltress was coming toward me.

Internally, I was weeping but also happy. I’d danced a few productions with Matthew. He was one of the stars in the Seattle ballet scene—well, in the national scene now. He was ready for a day of dancing in his gray top and black tights. His hair was combed back. He looked vital and alive, and I was so jealous.

“Matthew. Hello.”

I pulled on my dancing mask—chin up, shoulders back, arms at the ready. I lifted my mouth in a small smile. It was one that he couldn’t tell if it was polite or a fuck-off sort of smile. I always loved giving one of those. I’d been so good at them.

He paused, taking me in.

His eyes darkened in appreciation before he gave me a slight wolf whistle. “You’re looking amazing. Motherhood agrees with you.”

Motherhood with a nanny, he meant. No one believed I was actually the one raising Nova.

“Thank you. And you look amazing as well.”

A cockiness flared before he masked it, moving closer. “I was just talking about you the other day with another girl.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She was a dancer in New York who recently moved here. She’s new but getting a master's degree in dance therapy. She doesn’t know the area that well, and I thought you might be a perfect person to show her around. You’re local and you have time now. She’s looking for places to set up dance therapy programs. She mentioned nursing homes or other shelters that deal with people who have experienced trauma.”

You have time now.

It was a small dig from him. Since I wasn’t dancing, I had all the time in the world.

“Why did you think of me?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. But here you are, and I’ve been meaning to reach out. Maybe I telepathically called out to you to come see me?” There was the old Matt I remembered. He’d always been a flirt. A dancer first, a flirt second. He sidled even closer, folding his arms over his chest. His muscles rippled from the movement. “Really, Quince. How are you doing?”

I forced a light laugh as I edged back a step. My hand reached behind me, finding the barre, and the touch settled me. “I’m good, Matthew. Really. How are you doing?”

He noted the backward shift, and a knowing smirk filtered over his face before he let out a sigh. He moved to face me at the barre, his hand touching it as well. “There’s a new production in town, a new choreographer.”

“Yeah?”

My chest tightened at the thought of something new. Jealousy spiked through me.

We both bent forward, heads moving past our knees. Or mine was. I heard Matt answer, and we both paused and held the stretch, letting our lines show. “Too bad you’re still not dancing. You’d be perfect for the lead. They’re looking for a Latina lead, but I told—”