Page 52 of Carpenter's Christmas Bride

His heart squeezed suddenly, and it was all he could do to keep driving. Of course it made her sad not to have children. Her career meant a sacrifice she had probably been too young to understand when she first made the choice to pursue it.

“Most female dancers can’t really have children until they retire,” she said. “And sometimes, that’s too late. I normally try not to think about it. But around the holidays…”

She trailed off and he pointedly kept his eyes on the road, hoping she would keep talking.

“Sorry,” she said. “You don’t want to hear about all this.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I sort of wondered, with you being an athlete and all.”

“Yeah, you have a limited time in your life when you can dance professionally,” she said. “It’s kind of sad, but it’s also what makes it special, knowing that it’s finite.”

Was that what made his time with her so special? Somehow he didn’t think so.

“What do you guys do when you realize you’ll be retiring?” he asked her.

“Some of my friends are taking college classes online,” she said. “My parents offered to help with that, but I don’t really know what I would do outside of dance. Maybe teach ballet?”

“Would it make you sad?” he heard himself ask reflexively.

“I don’t think so,” she told him, a thoughtful smile on her face. “And I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“Then it’s a great idea,” he told her. “You could be just like your grandmother.”

She turned to him with a surprised smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “When did you decide you wanted to be a carpenter?”

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted, surprised by the question.

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“People aren’t exactly fascinated with my job the way they are with yours,” he said, chuckling.

“Did you have other jobs in mind?” she asked.

“No,” he told her. “When I was really little, my Uncle Simon used to let me help out with his woodworking projects, and I loved it. I think I just knew then. It was like there was never really a choice.”

“Me too,” she told him with a smile. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t dancing. I loved it from the very beginning.”

He nodded, smiling as he pulled into the library parking lot.

“What about Walt?” she asked. “What does he love?”

“He loves stories,” Aidan said as he parked. “And he loves running around.”

“I’m sure he can make a career out of those things,” Kenzie said.

Aidan heard himself chuckling again as he cut the engine and turned to her.

“I mean it,” Kenzie said. “How different is that from what I do? Telling stories by running around a lot?”

Suddenly, the look on her face was uncertain.

“What?” he asked.

“I guess some men don’t want their sons to be dancers,” she said, looking away.

---