Page 36 of Dancing in the Rain

“I’m good. Thanks, sweetie.”

She disappeared with a hop and skip.

Drew rubbed his forehead then sipped his coffee. “She’s beautiful,” he said quietly.

Sara nodded. “Yes. She is.”

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about Chloe. He wasn’t sure how he actually did feel…terrifiedwould probably be the most accurate word.

He knew nothing about tween girls. About what they learned in school, how they dressed, what they were interested in. Maybe if he’d had a twelve-year-old son, he’d feel more at ease. They’d talk about sports and…and…Okay maybe that wouldn’t be much better.

Chloe shot back into the room with a burst of energy, holding a glass of orange juice. She set it on the table and bounced herself into the chair again.

“I hear you like to dance,” Drew said, pouncing on an idea for conversation.

Her face closed up. “It’s okay.”

“Chloe.” Sara spoke gently. “You love dancing.”

“I don’t want to go this year.”

“Why not, sweetie?”

Chloe looked away. “It takes up too much time.”

An uncomfortable tension materialized. Drew bent his head and said, “You want to be with your mom, right?”

Chloe bit her lip and met his eyes. And he saw the fear there. Then she looked away again. “I have a lot more homework this year, and I want to try out for jazz band.”

Drew clenched his jaw. It wasn’t his business. Which was fucking weird because she was his daughter, but he wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking that walking in here and meeting her for the first time gave him any rights whatsoever. He looked back and forth between Sara and Peyton, the atmosphere in the room heavy. “I think your mom wants you to do something you enjoy,” he ventured.

“Are you worried about how you’re going to get there, Chloe?” Peyton asked. “Because I’m here and I’ll take you to dance classes.”

“You’re going back to New York,” Chloe burst out. “But it doesn’t matter becauseI don’t want to go.” She leaped up and hurtled out of the room.

Drew watched her fly up the stairs, then turned back to the two women. “Well, that went well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s overwhelmed,” Peyton said quietly. “This is all a lot for her to process.”

Sara closed her eyes, her lips in a sad curve. “Let’s not argue about it with her anymore. If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go. I just don’t want her spending all her time sitting here watching me die. I want her to have a normal routine.”

Drew swallowed. “Could I go talk to her?”

Sara’s eyes opened and met his. She nodded. “You can try. Good luck.”

“I’ll show you her room.” Peyton rose to her feet. She climbed the stairs in front of him and walked to the second door on the left, which was closed. She gestured at it, then turned and squeezed past him in the hall to go back downstairs.

Drew pulled in a breath through his nose, head tipped back, and knocked on the door.

“Go away.”

He smiled. “It’s me, Chloe. Can I come in?”

After a short pause, she said, “Okay.”

He opened the door and entered the room, a generous bedroom with a twin bed against the far wall where Chloe sat cross-legged holding a cushion. The yellow walls were covered with multiple framed pictures and posters, the furniture all white. The cover on the bed was a large floral print in bright yellow, red, blue, and green, and the rug on the hardwood floor had similar colors.

He looked around, nodding. For some reason he’d expected pink. “I like your room.”

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