Page 71 of Fake Out Hearts

She turns back to me with a fierce, determined look on her face. “I want to open my own dance school someday,” she says, and before I can get a word in, she charges on. “I know, I know, it’s a pipe dream. And I have the partnership with Curtain Call that’s probably gonna happen, which I’m super excited about, but I really want my own independent school someday.”

“It’s not a pipe dream. I think you could do anything you set your mind to.”

Becca playfully slaps my arm. “You’re just saying that because you’re my husband. You’re obligated.”

“Maybe, but I mean it. You’re way more talented and capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Becca stares at me blankly. “How much haveyouhad to drink tonight?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Not enough to be anything other than clear headed.”

“Hm.” Becca turns away from me again, staring up at the top of the plain office building and blinking away the snow that catches in her beautiful, long eyelashes. “Maybe you’re right.”

Without another word, she wraps her arm through mine again and we continue walking to the next intersection. But she almost slips stepping off the curb to cross the street, and I have to hold her up.

“You ready to call a cab?” I ask when we’re safely on the other side. She’s blushing, but she nods.

“Yeah. Probably not a bad idea. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, princess,” I say and gently tap the tip of her nose. The blush on her cheeks doesn’t fade, but at least her smile returns. I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap around until I get a hit for a driver, then help Becca lower down onto a nearby public bus bench to wait. Technically, we aren’t supposed to get picked up in places like this, but there’s hardly anyone around.

Becca’s fingers snake between mine on the bench, but it seems to be automatic rather than intentional. I don’t know if she’s just feeling embarrassed or what, but I don’t mind. We sit there quietly enjoying the gently falling snow and each other’s company for a few minutes until a black sedan pulls up to the bench and flashes its headlights.

“Time to go,” I say and stand first so I can steady her if she needs it. But she manages to get to her feet just fine, so I escort her to the car and open the rear door for her. She climbs inside a bit clumsily but without incident, and I slide in next to her.

“Thanks for the lift,” I tell the driver, who’s a woman Becca’s age. She takes one look at Becca’s flushed face in the rearview and raises her eyebrows.

“She gonna be okay for the ride?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’ll be fine. Right, Becca?”

“Totally a-okay,” Becca says, making the “okay” symbol with her fingers.

The driver raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Alright. Just let me know if you need me to stop. I don’t feel like cleaning my whole car tonight.”

“I’ll pay for it if you do,” I assure her, closing the door.

The driver puts the car in gear and sets off slowly, still watching us in the rearview. But Becca really is fine. She stares out the window, watching the snow and buildings blur by, and her fingers creep across the seat to find mine again.

The driver stops outside the condo a few minutes later, and I help Becca out before thanking the driver and telling her good night. I don’t know if the champagne is really kicking in now or what, but Becca seems to be getting more and more unsteady, so I’m thankful we have an elevator and don’t have to deal with stairs to get into the unit.

As soon as we step inside, Milo comes bounding from somewhere in the living room, nearly knocking us both over. Becca laughs brightly as she sinks to her knees to hold his face in her hands, talking to him in the baby voice that everyone does with their pets.

“Who’s a good boy? Did you miss us? Aw, we missed you too, sweet boy!” She plants a series of kisses on his head, and he throws himself down on the floor in front of her, exposing hisstomach for tummy rubs. I join her in rubbing his stomach, and she beams at me.

“Are you gonna need any help getting undressed or into bed?” I ask.

She flashes me a playful smile. “Are you trying to get me out of my clothes, Mr. Camden?”

My body tenses at the thought, but I keep it together. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Relax, I’m teasing you. But I’ll be fine. I appreciate you offering though,” she says as she continues rubbing Milo’s stomach.

“Alright. Then I’m gonna take this guy for a quick walk, then get out of this suit and get some sleep. Good night,” I say and kiss the top of her head before I stand.

“Good night.” As I grab Milo’s leash from the hook by the door, she adds, “And thanks for a good time, Theo. I needed it.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming.”

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