Page 39 of Shadow Dance

That wink hits me right between the ribs, kickstarting my heart. Shaking my head, I open the door and step out onto the sidewalk. “Of course not. But you have to keep giving me intel.”

“We’ll see,” he says with an amused grin. “Bye, Maeve. Have fun twirling around.”

“Have fun brooding around the city,” I shoot back, shutting the door.

“I love salted caramel,”I whisper, stopping cold in the middle of the aisle.

“Mm, me too.” Jaime chucks a pack of salted caramel cookies into the shopping cart, lips quirking into a smile when our eyes meet. I’ve come to realize that when it comes to the munchies, he’s just as bad as I am.

It’s almost Halloween, so there’s candy everywhere. I grab a bag of chocolate and point for Jaime to get marshmallows. “We should make s'mores,” I say. “On the grill outside.”

“I haven’t had s’mores since I was a kid,” he says, adding the marshmallows to the mountain of crap in the cart.

“What? I have them every summer.”

“Did you have them this summer?” He pauses, pulling his phone from his pocket to read what I’m guessing is a text.

“No, which is why it’s even more imperative that we make them now.”

We smoked during our walk today and then again on our way to Trader Joe’s. May not have been the best idea, seeing that my munchies are out of control and everything, and I do meaneverything, appeals to me right now. I justify it by reminding myself that I took an advanced ballet class today before wandering the hills of Tilden Park with Jaime. A little sugar won’t hurt.

We go for walks every day, sometimes for hours. The longer the walks, the more we talk, and I come home from our outings feeling both exhausted and refreshed.

By this point, he knows about the dogs I had growing up and how I wish I had one or two now. My summers in Nantucket and Belfast, my preference for autumn, and my penchant for K-dramas. I tell him all about growing up in Boston and going to boarding school at Edenbrook, how my love for ballet started when my grandparents took me to seeCoppéliawhen I was three. I tell him how I met my best friend, and how she’s married to my brother now, how much I miss being in their lives.

In turn, Jaime tells me about Brooklyn, how he and his mom moved around a lot, all the different schools he went to. His summers in Puerto Rico, visiting family. He talks about squeaking through community college and moving out west for a job with a friend that turned into the type of stuff he does now. He doesn’t give me too many details beyond that, but I don’t expect him to. Discretion is, after all, the name of the game in this life. He’s like my brothers and my dad in that way.

Jaime is the best part of my day. I’ll miss him when I finally leave this place.

I angle the heavy shopping cart around the corner and into the bread aisle. Jaime nudges me aside, taking over the cart. “Such a gentleman,” I tease, relinquishing the cumbersome task with gratitude. I might’ve gotten a little carried away during today’s shopping trip.

“Of course,” he says. “My mom raised me right.”

“She sure did.” My words come out a little flirtier than I intended, and I cringe. We spend so much time together that it’s easy for me to slip, even when I really shouldn’t.

He looks down at me with a sly smile, making my heart skip. A current of something—mutual attraction probably—passes between us. That happens a lot these days. Reaching up, I straighten the collar of his jacket. It’s an unnecessary, slightly intimate gesture, an excuse to touch him on purpose, and my hand shakes.

A shopping cart with a wailing toddler passes right by, jostling me out of the moment. I stand back as Jaime averts his eyes and nods toward the front of the store.

“Let’s go before you buy out this joint.”

Yeah, we should go, even though my heart yearns to explore this unspoken thing between us, consequences be damned!Or maybe I’m just stoned.

At home, Callum is drunk and rowdy, arguing with Griffin about God knows what. As is our custom, Jaime wisely slips into the living room while I put groceries away. Mac walks through the front door a few minutes later, going straight to the fridge for a beer.

“Are we still going to the game tonight?” he yells toward the living room.

Callum pauses mid-tirade. “Wait, who’re the Warriors playing?”

“The Clippers.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, let’s get it.” Callum comes into the kitchen, tossing his empties into the recycling bin. “You wanna come?” he asks, giving my butt a pat.

“Not tonight.” I shake my head with an apologetic smile. “I’m pretty tired.”

He doesn’t press it because he doesn’t really want me there anyway, intruding on his man-outing. They go all the time during basketball season. It’s probably the most normal thing they do. Standing behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath, he leaves a wet kiss on my neck. “Jaime’s right next door if you need him, okay?”

I nod, wiping up the small mess left by Callum’s dinner. Yelena, our housekeeper, comes several days a week, but leaving extra work for her feels rude, so I always make a point to clean up.

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