Page 36 of The Perfect Mistake

“Are you okay?” Sam asks beside me. His voice sounds shaky.

I feel it when Isabel pulls herself back together. She pushes her hair back and looks up at my son with an easy smile. “Yes. My hip just doesn’t like it when I dance too much, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” she says. “I wanted to dance. I love it!”

He looks at me with wide eyes, like he can’t really believe it. Right. She’s still crumpled on the floor, putting on a brave face for the sake of my kids, and I can’t have that.

I slide my right arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. “This okay?”

She blinks. “Yeah. Where—”

“To bed.” I lift her as gently as possible, but I hear a tiny sigh that escapes her. It sounded pained. I carry her out of the living room and down the hall that separates our rooms. She’s warm in my arms. Her hair brushes over my forearm and she smells like floral shampoo.

“I’m okay,” she says.

I kick open the door to her quarters. They’re neat, her bed made, a light-blue sweater hanging over the back of the desk chair. “Do you ice it when it acts up?”

“Alec…”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Sometimes.”

I set her down on the bed, and she lies back with a frown. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Don’t,” I say. “I’ll be back with an icepack. Stay here.”

She sighs, but this time it’s not with pain. It’s with acceptance. “You’re bossy.”

“That’s my job,” I say, but my voice doesn’t hold any humor. Seeing her crumble like a house of cards the first time was hard enough. Now it puts me in a mood that’s far from gleeful.

When I get to the kitchen, I spy the kids sitting on the couch, side by side. Katja must have left after dinner. Someone, probably Willa, has turned on the TV, but they’re oddly quiet.

“Isabel is fine,” I say loudly and rummage through the freezer. There… a bag of frozen peas. I wrap it in a kitchen towel. “Why don’t you guys put on some cartoons? I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Okay,” Willa calls back. Her voice is unusually demure.

When I return to Isabel, she’s still lying on her bed, her eyes closed. They open as I approach. “You found an icepack?”

“Frozen vegetables,” I say and hand her the pack.

She takes it from me and places it on her hip, wincing slightly. “Thank you,” she says softly. “Damn. I didn’t expect that to happen.”

“Do you need a painkiller?”

“No. It’ll pass.” She leans back against the pillows. “I haven’t been doing as much physio as I should. I was working so hard at it before, but after I got cut…”

“We have a gym,” I say quietly. “With a sauna. You’re welcome to use it whenever.”

She looks up at me. “In the building?”

“In the penthouse. It’s the door next to my bedroom, further down the corridor.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh. Wow.”

“I’m sorry we missed it on your tour of the place.”

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