Logan said everything was fine, but I knew better.

My father would try again.

The fact he’d stayed away from me this long only meant he had something else cooking up.

But Nate.

Me and Nate.

Matthew had me in the air, and I was moving with him. My legs wrapped around. My back arched. My head was up. I was floating through the air, but I was back there.

I was in Nate’s arms.

The first time in the pool house.

Then after.

It was a week later, and we’d settled into a routine.

I woke and spent the mornings with Nova until Emily arrived.

Nate would work.

I’d go dance.

We’d reconvene, and Emily would leave at five.

Nate, Nova, and I would have dinner together, and we’d spend the rest of the evening with Nova. Games. Chasing after her. Car rides. Singing. Lots of singing. Bath time. She’d go to sleep, and Nate would find me.

He’d take my hand and lead me to another room in the house.

After we were spent, we’d go to his room, and we’d go again, this time quieter.

There were mornings when I woke him, or he woke me, and he’d be moving inside me when we’d first heard Nova starting to wake.

It was the closest experience I’d ever had to a family.

I was nearing thirty. Dancing. Sacrificing. It was what I did to reach my goal of becoming a principal dancer, but now having Nova, and now being with Nate, I was getting a taste of something I’d never thought possible.

“No, no. Stop!” Patrice’s voice cut through the music.

Matthew had been about to launch me in the air. We were both poised and ready to go, but we looked over, pausing.

I’d not been present, but I knew my footwork. I didn’t think anyone could tell. I had everything down. The looks. The yearning. The love. The awe.

“This isn’t working.”

She strode over, her eyes narrowed. She looked over Matthew.

A new awareness was coming over all of us, not just me. This wasn’t a good look. If they were going to critique or fix, they did it immediately. She came over to us, and she was walking around us. Then she settled back, looking me up and down.

Her gaze wasn’t moving from me.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Fear slammed against my sternum.

I shouldn’t have been daydreaming. That was a lesson learned early on. They could always tell when you weren’t feeling the dance.

“You’re going to do a solo at this time.”

Matthew made a sound, jerking farther back from me.

She ignored him, her gaze fully on me. She asked me, “You have time to learn a new piece?”

A sound rose from the other dancers.

This wasn’t done, not when our choreographer was going to leave in two days.

She heard and motioned to everyone. “Calm down. It’ll be fine. It’ll pick back up, but in this segment, I want Quincey to be the only one on stage.”

A whole new murmur went through everyone.

“Yes, yes.” She was talking to herself, nodding and walking around me once more. “Yes. I want to do a new solo piece for you, but I need to think about it first. Give me the day. Or wait. You come with me.” She turned. “Miss Aimes.”

“Yes?”

“Run through the rest with the dancers. Start at the end of where she and Matthew would finish.”

“Uh…” Miss Aimes was looking at Matthew. “What should we have Matthew starting from?”

“He’ll run in with them and go to his normal place. We’ll use her understudy today. I’d like Quincey to come with me for the afternoon.”

Matthew was frowning at me, but I held my hands up in a slight shrug. I didn’t know what was going on, either.

“Yes.” Patrice wasn’t waiting. She rotated on a heel click and motioned for me. “Quincey, if you may?” She strode off, and I hurried to pull off my pointe shoes, then darted to grab my bag and go after her. She was halfway down the hall by the time I cleared the room.

“Come, come, Miss Quincey. We need to get into our feelings this afternoon.”

I followed her to one of our back rooms, and she cut the lights except for two.

“Okay. I want you in the middle and hunched over. Look like you’re in pain.”

Whaaaa…? Okay.

I did as she said.

She had moved to a corner.

“I’m going to go through the moves in my head, but for now, I want you to dance by yourself. But--” Her voice raised on a sharp note. “I don’t want you dancing as a woman. You’re going to dance as a man. I want aggressive, fierce, and raw. I want beautiful lines. Grace. But fierce. I want you to make the crowd gasp at the things you can do, and I know you can do them. I’ve seen you move.” She waited for a beat.

The music from the show started playing.

“And go.”

I hesitated, but then instead of the music, I heard Nova’s laughter.