Page 43 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Wow, my babysitter’s a champion ping pong player. I’m impressed.”

“I hate to admit, my tattoo is proof I’m not a champion.”

I twist from Archer’s hold, another bout of laughter hitting me so hard I’m afraid I’ll pee my pants.

Archer stops walking. “You know you didn’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” I swipe the tears from my cheeks, my stomach aching. “Bring you out to tease you?”

“That, too.” He smirks. “Get me out of the apartment just because I had a bad day. I’m sure you’re tired and have school stuff to do.”

Dropping my hands to my side, I look up at his handsome face. “I know I didn’t have to, Arch. I wanted to.”

ChapterFourteen

ARCHER

“So, today’s the performance?”

Willa sets the diaper bag on my kitchen table with Clem on her hip. “It’s just a little dance preview in my class for the parents. Nothing big.”

“And what’s the point?” She swings her head toward me with ahow dare you disparage my joblook. It’s damn cute. Her newfound levity since talking with her doctor makes her extra irresistible. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Chill out, J. Lo.”

“You’re on a roll, Arrow.” Willa hands Clem over, kissing her pudgy cheek.

“Sorry, she was the only dancer I could think of.” Flipping my favorite girl around so we’re face to face, I ask, “Can Clem and I come watch?”

Willa tilts her head. “You want to come to the studio and watch some toddlers fumble through a combo? I mean itiscute, but…”

“I don’t know what all of that means, but yeah. Clem can witness her momma in action.”

Chuckling, Willa shrugs. “Okay, but come to my second class. They are way more disciplined.”

Today’s preview,Willa explained before she left the apartment this morning, is to show what the toddlers have learned over the course of the classes she’s been teaching for the last few weeks. I’ve never been to a dance event in my life. Not one recital, or ballet, or theater production. There was a strip club with some of the guys from my crew after Leah and I split, but I don’t think that counts.

So, here I stand along the back of a pink dance room with butterflies and flowers attached to the walls next to giddy moms, and a few dads, with their phones pulled out about to watch kids that don’t belong to me, and I’m feeling a crazy amount of…pride? Admiration? I can’t pinpoint the exact nature of my feelings toward the woman greeting her dancers with a wide smile and hugs.

I find myself comparing her to Leah, because that’s all I’ve ever known. Leah is brash and bold, flashy. She forces people to look. Willa, though. Willa is soft and fresh. She makes me want to look. Those warm eyes, that gentle blonde hair, the curves highlighted by her dance wardrobe. I force an exhale through my nose to settle the stirring in my gut.

“Okay.” Willa claps her hands. “We’re so happy you’re all here today to see what we’ve been learning.” Her eyes find Clem and I give her a wink, putting a half smile on her mouth as she shoos her toddlers. “Everyone take your letters.”

The tiny girls, and one ‘energetic’ redheaded boy, line up in their light pink skirts and leotards on various circles bearing letters in front of the mirror. Willa adjusts a few to their correct spots, turning one to face the right way, before she moves off to the side. When she turns on the music, each little dancer beams, their faces lighting up.

Watching these toddlers twirl and try so hard to remember the moves they’ve been taught isn’t all that different from watching a bunch of kids playing tee-ball and finding the flowers and bugs in the grass more interesting. Kids are kids, and their short attention span has them fumbling through new things like the rest of us.

The music builds and Willa moves into the front facing the mirror. “Time for our big finish, arms high, get on those tippy toes…reach.” I point her out to Clem as she does the moves with her class, turning on her toes with grace as her students stumble and fall and laugh, before they all finish with a curtsy.

When Willa’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, my chest aches with awareness. I can no longer pretend my feelings aren’t deeper than friendship.

* * *

I helpwith the dishes at Willa’s after dinner, while she feeds Clem who just woke up from another nap. She’s paying me tonight in spaghetti for watching Clem. While I’ll never turn down a home-cooked meal, I keep telling her it’s unnecessary. But as with her incessant need to refuse help, it goes in one ear and out the other, so I accept that she needs to do this to keep from feeling indebted to me. While inside, I fight the feelings gaining strength every day.

A knock echoes throughout her apartment as I’m finishing up at the sink, and our eyes meet, hers muddled in confusion.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No, you’re the only one who comes over besides Ruby and her girls, but she normally calls beforehand.”

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