Page 46 of When We Break

“Good timing.” I press a kiss to her lips and release her.

We work together as if we’ve done it for years. She opens cupboards until she finds plates, and I gather the silverware after pouring some food into Riley’s bowl for his dinner.

Before long, we’re at the table, our plates full, candles lit, and I tap my wineglass to hers.

“How were your classes today?” I ask.

“They were great. I think I’m going to start offering a barre class for women, and I might even start a modern dance class for women as well. I’ve had some of the moms tell me that they’d be interested, and I think it would be fun.”

“So it’s not only ballet that you do?”

Skyla shakes her head, then tips it side to side as if contemplating her answer while eating.

“Ballet is the only dance I’ve done professionally,” she says. “But I’ve taken so many classes over the years. Jazz, tap, modern, you name it. It’s all fun. But ballet is rigorous in different ways than the others. That’s not to say that the others aren’t difficult or beautiful.”

“I get it. Explain what you mean by more rigorous.”

She licks her lips and steals a carrot from my plate even though she has plenty on her own plate, and it makes me smile.

She likes to share.

“Well, as a ballerina, I have to contort my body in ways that aren’t natural. When I was young, I had a foot stretcher.”

I lift an eyebrow at that.

“Yep, it’s what it sounds like. You know how we arch our feet and walk on our toes?”

“Sure.” I take a bite of my food and grin when she reaches for a piece of my chicken. From now on, we’ll eat off one plate.

“I need my feet to arch much farther than what comes naturally.”

“That sounds painful.”

“Definitely.” She nods and eats her own rice. “It’s agony, and it never stops. It’s not unusual to always be bruised, sore, hurting. My feet are horrible.”

“You have cute feet.”

“You’ve only seen them in socks,” she reminds me. “And if I have my way, that’s the only way you’ll ever see them.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “No.”

“They bleed, or they did, when I danced every day. The toenails are almost completely gone now. I’ll never be a woman who comfortably wears a cute peep-toe heel. And that’s okay.”

“How does your ankle feel?”

That question has her eyes sobering. “It’s the same. Not normal. But I can dance for fun, and I guess that has to be good enough. As I age, my back will hurt, and my knees will ache. It’s the price a dancer pays. I’m actually lucky that I didn’t get more beat up than I am because of the way Mik would fling me about. He’s not gentle.”

With my plate cleared, I lean back in the chair. “Is it gentle you want, Irish?”

“I’m not fragile,” she says with a chuckle. “And I ate half of your dinner.”

“I don’t mind. Do you want more?”

“No, I’m full, but you might need a second helping to make up for what I took. Some people get cranky about sharing their food.”

I chuckle but shake my head. “I don’t. There are far more important things to get cranky about.”

“Such as?”

---