Page 102 of The Perfect Mistake

“So am I.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “And you know what? I still work with cars. This might not be the fastest car in the city, or the flashiest, but it’s elegant. A real classic beauty. And I might not own it, but I don’t need to. I get to drive it every single day and keep her polished to the nines.” He glances up at me through the rearview mirror, and his eyes crinkle with a smile. “I get to be a part of those kids’ lives and drive them safely to and from school. It might not be the high life I once thought so important, but it’s a much better one.”

I blink at the sudden moisture in my eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

He looks back at the road and shakes his head. “Don’t be. I deserved to serve time, and I needed it to knock my head straight. My point is just… well, I’m not that great at words. But I think maybe you got it?”

I smile at him. “Yes, I did. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He’d been there yesterday, driving me home after I walked out on Antoine. He knows about my failing dancing career. And maybe, just maybe… Alec said something on their trip this morning.

Things don’t have to end up the way you planned for them to be wonderful.

And that’s something I can work with.

When I arrive back home, I do my usual off-duty routine in the home gym. Working out, stretching the muscles around my hip. Then I take a long shower and spend thirty minutes looking at dance teaching positions in New York. The idea of becoming a ballet instructor chafes a little. I hadn’t expected it to, but it does.

Many of the ballet teachers I’ve had were… harsh. It’s a world I’m used to and learned to adapt in. But I’m not sure I want to be the one to mete harshness out in turn.

I answer texts I’ve been avoiding. Yes, Mom, I’ll come to family dinner on Sunday. It’s my day off. I sent Connie a funny picture a few days ago, and she finally responded, sending me one of her own. It’s of her sitting at her desk, half covering a yawning mouth. Having a husband is tiring me out, she wrote beneath it.

I’m making lunch when I catch a sight of the thick leather wallet lying on the stand in the hallway. Alec’s. He must have forgotten it. This has never happened before, and I pull up my phone to text him.

But a thought starts to form. One that’s brazen and risky, and everything I’m usually not. However, I’m not who I usually am right now, anyway.

So I write something different.

Isabel: Looks like you forgot your wallet at home. Do you want a visit at your office?

Alec: Yeah, I know. Annoying. And… yes. If you have the time.

Isabel: I have the time. Do you?

Alec: No, but I will make it.

I dig my teeth into my lower lip and look down at those six little words. Warmth spreads through my chest and pools in my stomach.

Isabel: Remember that one highlighted scene on my Kindle?

Alec: It’s burned into my brain. And the answer is yes.

Isabel: Really?

Alec: Yes. Get over here.

I grin and hurry to my bedroom. It takes me ten minutes of whirling through my clothes before I settle on a dress that ends halfway down my thighs, no stockings, and throw a long coat over it. I fluff up my usually flat hair and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes look wide, my cheeks flushed, and I look just a bit crazed.

Good, because I feel it.

I grab Alec’s wallet and my bag, and wave bye to Katja. She’s just arrived and is doing her usual meal prep. Breakfast for everyone for the next day, lunch packs, and dinner.

“He’s usually not forgetful,” she says with a cluck of her tongue. “Is Mac driving you?”

“Yes,” I say.

Katja opens the fridge and grabs a wrapped sandwich and a cool soda. “Here,” she says and pushes the items into my hands. “Could you bring him his lunch?”

“You make him lunch?”

There’s a tinge of pink on her cheeks. “Some days,” she says. “Okay, now go.”

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