Page 6 of Shadow Dance

But I push it aside like I always do.

Bria’s birthdayis next month, and the entire family will be celebrating at Lucky’s beach house in Mashpee. I’d like to go. I miss my best friend, and I could use a little space from Callum.

Besides, being back in Boston for a few days might be what I need to solider on here. I don’t need to move back there—not yet.

Callum’s guilt-tripping me about it, though. His birthday is in April, too, less than a week after Bria’s. He’s throwing a huge party at his uncle’s new club in San Rafael. I keep explaining that I can make both events happen, but he’s convinced that once I go home I might not want to come back. He says it like he’s joking, but I can tell it bothers him.

One Saturday, I load Sabine’s crutches into my car and head to Michel’s. I haven’t been back there since the day I sprained my ankle. Because I can’t dance—obviously—but also because of the bad blood between Manon and me. If she’s going to sabotage my efforts and not be held accountable, there’s not much I can do but find another company.

As expected, Sabine understands my decision. I sense that she’s relieved, but that’s no surprise. Her little sister can’t stand me, so my presence has caused problems from the beginning. She wishes me the best, and then I’m on my way. Honestly, I’m relieved too. Regardless of how hard I worked or how good I was, Michel’s was never going to be a good fit for me.

I pull away from the curb, slowing to a stop at the light. Directly across the street, Manon Michel is leaning into the window of a car parked on the curb. It’s Callum’s car—I’d recognize his flashy, red Mercedes with the custom rims anywhere. His windows are tinted, so I can’t see him, but I know it’s him. I narrow my eyes, watching Manon laugh and toss her hair.

I stare so long that the car behind me honks its horn.

Facing the windshield, I tap the gas and proceed in a daze. They were just talking, but there was a level of intimacy in the way she was talking to him that just doesn’t sit right. Instinct, I guess. It never occurred to me he might be fooling around, let alone with Manon, of all people? Anger shoots like a flare from my belly to my chest, burning me from the inside out.

I have norecollection of driving home, but I end up in the driveway. I walk inside, kicking my shoes off near the door and rotating my achy ankle. I’m having a glass of wine in the kitchen when Callum gets home about ten minutes later, his music announcing his arrival even before the roar of his engine.

Mac and Griffin file in behind him, heading for the living room as he comes to greet me. “Hey, baby.” He brushes a kiss across my cheek as he continues to the fridge.

“Where were you just now?” I ask.

He frowns faintly, obviously caught off guard by the question. “I stopped at the club, and then I went to see someone.”

“Who?”

“My friend Steadman.” He eyes me as he goes to the fridge. “Why?”

I finish my wine, folding my arms across my chest. “You weren’t with Manon?”

A flicker of surprise passes over his face, so fast I would’ve missed it had I not been watching for it, and he shuts the fridge without getting anything. “What?”

“Manon,” I say crisply. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t be crazy, Mae.”

“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. “I literally just saw you talking to her near Michel’s!”

Suddenly he titters, like my questions are so silly he can’t keep a straight face. “Really?”

Snatching an orange from the bowl on the island, I hurl it at him. “Yes, Callum. Really!”

Our relationship has been disintegrating for so long that I thought I was ready to end things. But this hurts. And it really, really pisses me off.

“Oh, we’re throwing shit now?” he asks, the smile wiped from his face.

“Because you’re lying to me!” I hiss.

“Don’t be paranoid, Maeve,” he shoots back, sneering. “That’s not you. Come on.”

“Paranoid?” I choke out a bitter laugh, my hands trembling as I reach for another orange. “How am I being paranoid when Ijust saw youwith her! You think I’m making it up?”

“You better not throw that shit,” he warns.

“Or what?”

I go to beam it at his face, but he moves fast, wrapping his fingers so tightly around my wrist that the small bones inside shift. Wincing, I drop the orange.

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