Page 18 of The Perfect Mistake

I roll my eyes. “Love you, Mom. Bye.”

I’m left alone in the large emptiness of my suite. The bed is comfortable, the dresser holds all my clothes, and I’ve already filled the mini fridge with my favorite snacks.

It doesn’t take me long to unpack the rest. Especially since I left the suitcase with my workout and ballet clothes untouched in the corner.

No use for those anymore.

My hip is already better after a week without training. I hate that the rest is the answer and that my body is betraying me. I hate that I fell in love with ballet when I was five.

And I also hate that my body aches with longing for the routine. Every night, I still dance it in my head before I fall asleep, keeping the count with my finger against the bed cover.

I wonder who’s dancing my part now.

Has anyone considered texting me about how I’m feeling? Irina, the prima ballerina, would never. But maybe Simone or Beth?

I survey the room. My new home. Thank God for it. As awkward as it is working for Alec Connovan, at least I have something to do.

I’d probably lose my mind if I didn’t.

Keeping to the schedule, I leave the apartment, taking the elevator down to the garage where Mac is waiting by the car. From a distance, he looks distinctly intimidating. Arms crossed over his bulky frame, and tattoos creeping up his neck. But he smiles when he sees me.

“Day two,” he says.

Pickup goes just as smoothly as yesterday. Sam is happily oblivious to the world around him, and Willa gives me the silent treatment. This time, though, I’m handed a note in the car about Sam’s upcoming project for show and tell in three weeks.

Three weeks feels like a lifetime from now.

Just as yesterday, the same thing happens when we make it home. Snacks, homework, and play. Willa takes a seat at the kitchen table and unfolds her book with wane movements.

I consider joining her. But her stiff frame speaks volumes. Don’t you even dare.

As I’m headed toward Sam, she speaks up. “You said you knew my aunt,” she states. “I haven’t heard about you.”

“Yes, we’ve been friends for a few years.”

“Hmm. My dad told me you were a ballerina.” Her voice is heavy with disbelief.

“I am, yeah. I’ve danced since I was Sam’s age. I’ve been performing with the New York Ballet.”

“Well, not now. Now you’re a nanny.”

I grit my teeth. She’s still speaking without looking at me, her voice dismissive. It’s not hard to imagine why other nannies have struggled.

“Yes. I injured my hip quite badly and it needs rest before I can perform again.”

That makes her turn. Hazel eyes sweep appraisingly over my form. “You look fine,” she says.

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“It mostly bothers me when I dance. Not so much when I walk around normally.” I take a step closer. “What homework are you doing today?”

Her eyes are unreadable. They’re so like her fathers. “None of your business.”

Whoah. She’s like a kitten with her hackles raised.

I smile at her. “Gotcha. I like doing my work alone, too. I heard that you’re really good at math.”

“Yeah.”

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