Page 107 of One Last Encore

They settled into a cozy corner booth near the bar, the flickering candlelight casting golden shadows across his face.

Conversation flowed easily. Too easily. Being with him felt like muscle memory, like slipping into a ballet combination she hadn’t practiced in years but still lived in her bones. Her body responded before her mind could catch up. She leaned in without thinking, drawn to him like warmth in the dead of winter.

Beck caught her up on Finn and Reef’s latest misadventures.

"Thailand?" she repeated, raising a brow.

"For a month," Beck confirmed, chuckling. "They decided to rehabilitate elephants. Which, lovely, but let’s be honest, in two weeks they’re either going to be banned from the sanctuary or riding the elephants through the streets."

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. "Wow. They haven’t changed a bit."

"Nope, still absolutely crazy," Beck agreed. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady on her. "What about you?"

"Me?" she asked, caught off guard.

"Catch me up. Last five years. Start from when I last saw you."

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. That was... a minefield of a question.

She looked at him carefully, searching for any flicker of hesitation, some sign that digging into the past might sting for him the way it still did for her. But he was steady, open. Like he really meant it. Like he actually wanted to know.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I left for the winter intensive," she began, her voice even despite the emotions twisting inside her. "But I ended up spending a year in France."

Beck leaned in slightly, listening closely as she continued.

"They offered me a spot in the company," she said. "So, I dropped out of Juilliard. It was... complicated, but it felt like the right move at the time. I came back to New York... once you graduated."

"Me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed immediately. God, that sounded worse out loud. Itwastrue but he didn’t need to know she’d basically fled the country to avoid him.

"I mean–just... when the timing made sense," she said quickly, her voice pitching slightly as panic set in. "Not because of you. Obviously."

“Obviously."

She gave him a look, sipping her wine like it might save her from the hole she’d just dug.

"Did you stay with your mom the whole time you were in France?" he asked, casually enough but gently.

"No," Ingrid said softly, shaking her head. "That trip… I ended up cutting all contact with her."

Beck didn’t say anything. Just let the silence stretch comfortably between them. He was good at that. Giving her space without pressing, never tugging words out before they were ready.

"And I haven't heard from her since." She shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. Like it didn’t still hurt.

Her mother not even attempting to reach out told her everything she needed to know. It was silence as clarity. It confirmed what Ingrid had suspected for a long time. She used to twist herself in knots wondering what she’d done wrong, if she wasn’t enough. But now? She got it. It wasn’t about her. It never had been. And she wasn’t going to keep blaming herself for someone else’s failure to show up.

She let out a dry laugh, swirling her wine with a flick of her wrist. "I spent years bending over backwards, trying to be someone she’d approve of. The second I stopped chasing her validation, she was just... done. Like I only ever mattered when I was useful to her version of me."

Beck’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

Ingrid’s voice softened. "It’s probably for the best. Our relationship... it wasn’t healthy. She was controlling, judgmental. And she never saw it. Never thought she was the problem." She paused, exhaling slowly. "How was I supposed to keep living like that?"

Beck nodded once, his expression unreadable, but there was something solid in the way he looked at her.

"Believe me," he said, voice quiet. "I get it."

The weight of those three words cut her like a knife to the heart. Her mind went immediately to his family. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but before she could, someone stumbled into her chair.

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