Page 35 of The Perfect Mistake

Loud pop music streams from the living room, and it doesn’t sound like it’s from a cartoon show. I can also hear jumping. Whoops. And Isabel’s voice, encouraging more ruckus.

“That’s it!”

I drop my briefcase in the hallway and walk into the living room. Stopping at the threshold, I take in the sight before me.

They all have their back to me. Isabel, Willa, and Sam. And they are dancing like loons. Jumping, wiggling, shaking. Willa throws her hair back with a happy whoop, and Sam looks like he’s concentrating hard on wiggling his hips.

Between them, Isabel is jumping from side to side, her dark hair swinging down her back.

“Should we try some salsa?” she asks and switches from jumping to dancing, using some surprisingly graceful steps.

I reach up and undo my tie. Bedtime is in thirty minutes. I’ll never get them to sleep if they’re like this. And yet… Sam trips into Isabel with a laugh. She straightens him effortlessly and twists around, a wide smile on her face.

It freezes in place when she sees me.

The kids notice. They turn, too. “Daddy!” Sam yells. “Dancing!”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Willa performs a little pirouette, smiling from ear to ear. “Look!”

“I’m looking. You guys are doing great,” I say.

Isabel runs a hand over her hair, smoothing it back. “We’re having a post-dinner dance party.”

“Right. Before bedtime?”

She nods. “I think that—”

Sam grabs her hand. “Do the spin! The spin!”

“Oh. I don’t think…”

“Spin!”

Isabel looks at me a bit ruefully and takes a step back. “Okay.”

Willa comes to stand next to me, and I put a hand on her shoulder. Her skin is warm, and her breath rapid. They’re quite riled up.

“Look,” she whispers. My daughter sounds awestruck, almost despite herself. She’s not the only one. Isabel got Willa to dance with her? To play instead of sulk on her own?

Isabel starts to spin. It’s similar to what I saw her doing at the ballet studio weeks ago, but less controlled. More carefree. With one leg supporting her, she pulls up the other and spins. Around and around and around. From the sidelines, Sam cheers.

She might be in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but Isabel is every inch a ballerina come to life, here in my living room. Willa lets out a tiny sigh, and I bend down, not taking my eyes off Isabel.

“Maybe she could teach you some of that,” I tell her. “If you ask nicely.”

“Maybe,” Willa breathes.

But then something happens. Isabel stumbles, and the leg that’s supporting her suddenly gives out. It folds up beneath her, and she collapses gracefully to the floor in a heap of denim and dark hair.

Fuck.

Willa gasps beside me, and Sam yells out. “Isa!”

I’m by her side in the next second. “Isabel?” I ask, lightly touching her shoulder. My chest feels like it’s turned to ice. Her hip. I should’ve remembered. I should have put a stop to the dance party the moment I arrived home.

“I’m fine,” she whispers from beneath her hair. “Just give me a moment.”

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