Page 147 of Boyfriend of the Hour

That day, when I finally got myself out of bed, I didn’t go for a walk, look for a job, call Nathan, or do any of the things I knew Ishouldprioritize. Instead, after seeing that Carrick was also not in the apartment, I changed into dance clothes—myclothes. Faded cropped leggings, a stretched-out leotard, and the pair ofsoft black ballet shoes I hadn’t worn in months. Then I fled to the studio on the top floor.

It wouldn’t feel the same. I knew that. There were things I couldn’t do, moves my knee just couldn’t handle. And since I had no desire (or money) to go to the ER, I had to hold myself back at least that much.

But the rest of the routine…it had been too long. A quick bout of good cardio, followed by some light ballet work and stretches on the floor and against the wall. Then I put on my favorite playlist, the one that included everything from the Chopin barre music Mrs. Suarez played in her studio to the old-school Sinatra Nonna used to teach all her grandkids the box step, to show tunes and hip hop and everything in between. Every number I’d ever loved, every routine I’d ever given myself to. I selected “Don’t Leave Me.” And I danced.

Three hours later,I was covered in sweat, and my knee was throbbing, but I felt almost at peace and happier than I’d been in months as the final song in my playlist came on: Billy Joel’s “She’s Always A Woman.”

I smiled. This was a new addition. Mostly because I thought Nathan would like it. When I’d added it to the list, I’d imagined how he might sit and watch me while he listened.

Moving in time to the familiar piano, I wove my body into spontaneous patterns around the room, taking up as much space as I liked with arabesques, leaps, and pirouettes onto my good leg, and too many other movements I didn’t have names for but only did because they felt good and right. By the time the song was on its final bars, I ended with a deep bow down to my toes, folding into myself like a butterfly returning to its chrysalisinstead of going out into the world. It’s what I wished I could do. I didn’t want to fly. I wasn’t ready. All I wanted to do more than anything else was go home where it was safe.

But home didn’t exist.

And so I was here.

“You have to dance.”

A deep voice that warmed every cell in my body echoed through the room. I jumped and straightened, then found Nathan’s reflection in the mirror.

He was standing in the doorway, still impossibly handsome in his scrubs. His glasses were a little smudged, and his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it again. Like he had been too busy to change, too much in a hurry to take care of these little things the way he usually would, all because he wanted to come home to me.

My heart ached in response.

How I wished it were true.

I turned, feeling suddenly awkward. “Um…hi.”

“Hi.” He took a step into the room. “I got home, and I couldn’t find you.” He looked around the studio. “Now I know why.”

I crossed my legs, suddenly shy in my dancewear. I didn’t know why. He’d seen me in far more revealing things at the bar. Or even his bed.

Maybe it was because out of all the clothes I’d worn in front of Nathan, whether they were costumes for a platform or for his parents, these worn-out dance clothes weren’t a costume. They were just me.

“It’s where I needed to be,” I said quietly. “How did you think to come here?”

“Just a guess. I was about to call your sisters, but I thought I’d check here first.” He shoved a hand through that thicket of hair again and shook his head like he still couldn’t believesomething. “I didn’t understand until now. But you’re…Joni, you can’t stop doing that. Dancing, I mean. You’re too good.”

I deflated a little, though the acknowledgment felt nice. He couldn’t know how much of a shadow I was of my former self. How completely absurd it was to thinkthiswas what I used to be capable of.

“Oh, Nathan,” I said sadly. “I had to stop. You know that. This…” I waved a hand toward the room. “This was just messing around.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “It didn’t look like it. That was…that was fucking amazing. I amliterallyamazed.”

“No. I had to skip so much of that routine.”

Nathan openly gawked. “There’s more?”

I nodded. “Oh yeah. But my knee…” I flapped a hand toward my scarred leg.

His eyes darted quickly down. “Right. Your knee.”

He didn’t say anything more, though his gaze didn’t move. His focus remained on my legs and seemed to grow hotter with every passing moment.

I fought the urge to cover up. More from my own yearning than from that heated expression.

“About last night,” Nathan started. He managed to tear his gaze up from my legs, and his brown eyes met mine, looking almost nervous. “Did Shawn follow you home from the bar?”

I gulped. But as easy as it would have been to let him think that, it would have also been the same as lying.