Page 81 of Pretty Little Lies

“Why?” Clara asks, her innocence shining through.

“Because, Clara, I think you’re very special, and I would love to become your friend. Would you like that?” Nicolo’s tone is so tender. Filled with a sense of wonder, it’s the closest I’ve ever heard him come to being emotional.

“Do you like dance parties?” Clara asks gravely, as though her decision hinges entirely on how he answers her.

Nicolo releases a deep chuckle. “I love dance parties,” he assures her.

“Wanna have one right now?” she offers as her usual outgoing self comes out in full force.

“Definitely,” Nicolo agrees.

“I’ll put on the music,” I offer, heading to the stereo and inserting Clara’s favorite CD.

Clara springs into action as the music starts, and my heart melts as Nicolo joins her. She giggles every time he mimics her dance moves, and that only encourages him to try more of them. Soon, the two of them are twirling and jumping, not so much dancing as rolling around the room.

“You’re alright?” Aunt Patritsiya asks quietly as she steps up beside me to watch their dance party.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Aunt Patritsiya. I’m sure I scared the living daylights out of you. I just panicked. But we talked it out, and I think everything is going to be fine.” I smile as Clara releases another bout of contagious giggles. “More than fine.”

“Mama, come join us!” Clara demands as she jumps in place, looking impressively like a bunny.

“I’m coming!” I call, striding forward to meet them.

Clara grips my fingers with one hand and wraps her other hand around Nicolo’s pinky and ring finger–the most she can grip in her tiny fist. She starts to turn us in circles, skipping along as she does. When my eyes meet Nico’s, I’m astounded by the intense love and joy pouring from his hazel gaze.

All at once, it’s like my life has fallen into place, each stray puzzle piece coming together to form a beautiful picture. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, and suddenly I’m filled with hope at what our future together will bring.

EPILOGUE

ANYA

Six weeks later

I take a deep breath,settling into my pose in the utter silence of the auditorium. The classical sound of a violin starts, announcing the beginning of my choreographed number for the winter showcase, and I feel Robbie come to life behind me. Then the contemporary beat strikes, and I spring into action, transforming from a statue into a living, breathing piece of art.

The hush of the audience registers in the back of my mind. Still, I stay focused, rising up onto my toes as I dance across the stage, twirling around Robbie as he leaps into the air at just the right time. After months of grueling practice and long hours in the studio, we’re ready for this moment.

I’m so proud of how far my young dance partner has come, in strength, balance, and movement. Where once, he was somewhat of an awkward teen, not quite sure of his body and how it might work with mine, we now feel as effortlessly as one, as I once did with Fin. And as I sprint toward Robby for our first lift, leaping into the air, his arm catches me, using my inertia to push me high over his head.

For a moment, I hang there, suspended like a statue on its marble stand. Then Robbie releases me, letting me fall a split second before transitioning into our second lift. My feet touch down as if onto a cloud, and I spin away from him, my arms arching up around my head.

The music starts to crescendo, and I shift into my chaînés as I find Robbie as my spot. Every time I reach this point in the song, I think of Nicolo and that electrifying moment in the studio where I danced for him alone. The memory fills my motion with poignancy, and when I come to a halt in front of Robbie, my leg extends back in a deep split. My heart flutters in the sudden absence of music.

And then, as the beat comes to life once again, so do I, weaving my way through the choreographed piece as though it were a part of my very speech. I could do this in my sleep. In fact, over the past week, I think I have practiced the routine several times in my dreams. Nicolo tells me I’ve even started doing ballet moves beneath the covers in the middle of the night. Though I’m not sure, I’m inclined to believe that.

It’s bittersweet as the music slowly draws to a close. I arch backward over Robbie’s arm as I’m suspended lifelessly once again, a doll unable to dance without my music. The auditorium bursts to life with applause, and after holding our pose for one last second, Robbie brings me back to a stand.

When we take our bow, my eyes skim the crowd that lies in shadow before me. It’s so dim compared to the brilliant stage lights that I can barely make out Nicolo’s beaming face, and next to him, Clara and my aunt. Each cheers louder than the next, warming my heart with their approval.

Robbie and I take one last bow and exit stage right, making room for the next performance.

“We did it!” Robbie bursts as soon as we duck behind the curtain.

I can’t help smiling from ear to ear. “We did.”

“Oh, man. That was amazing!” Bouncing with enthusiasm, Robbie leads the way backstage.

“Beautiful, you two,” Whitney compliments with a warm smile.

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