Page 161 of A Temporary Forever

“Keep up insulting me in that lovely accent of yours and I’ll have to fuck you in a back alley here.” He winks, but his eyes are darker, filled with want.

“Continue de rêver.”

“Celeste,” he warns, and I laugh.

“We will get arrested one of these days, Mr. van den Linden.” I snake my arm around his waist, leaning into him.

The familiar street in Chelsea isn’t exactly bustling with people, but our casual progress still upsets the flow of pedestrian traffic.

In the last four days since our first meeting with Reese, we seem to live in our own bubble, unaffected by the chaos the city bestows on its people.

With Mia spending most of her time with her mom, and Caleb being unemployed, I canceled my performances this week, happily passing them to my understudy. We need this time to enjoy peace after the turbulent few days we’ve had.

“It’s a good thing Cressard is a resourceful lawyer, Mrs. van den Linden.” He kisses the crown of my head and steers us to another street.

A wave of nostalgia sweeps through me. I wasn’t really thinking about our exact whereabouts after Peter dropped us off, but now I wish we were elsewhere in the city.

I don’t voice my concern, because there’s still a part of me I’m not sure how to reconcile, or how to share properly.

“What’s wrong?” Of course, Caleb picks up on my hesitation.

“My school used to be down there.” I beckon with my head in the general direction.

“I know,” Caleb says, and pulls me in that exact direction, crossing the road. “Let’s go see it.”

“I don’t want to.” I pull back, but he doesn’t relent.

Stopping in front of the entrance I crossed so many times, he hands me a set of keys. I stare at them, frowning.

“Take them. They’re yours.” Caleb dangles them between his fingers.

“Keys?” My confusion is obvious in my lack of vocabulary. “Why are we here?”

Caleb sighs. “Jesus, woman, can’t you just squeal with joy?” He rolls his eyes and unlocks the door.

“Why do you have the keys?” I don’t dare follow him inside. I don’t want to see the place I miss so much.

“Because you didn’t take them from me.”

“Caleb,” I snap, and the bastard laughs.

“I got it for you.”

“You rented this space?” I recall our conversation in the kitchen, but how and when would he even get it? For me?

“I bought it.”

“Why?”

“You’re kind of slow today, black swan.”

“For me.”

“Finally, you’re catching up.” He pulls me inside and leads me to the main dance studio.

The space hasn’t changed much. There are some yoga mats in the corner. I think someone used it for pilates and yoga in the interim. The back wall is painted a hideous shade of red, but it still smells and feels like my studio.

“You bought this building for me?”

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