Page 89 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

ARIANA: Hey

ARIANA: So about yesterday...

ARIANA: Can we talk?

ARIANA: Somewhere private?

My pulse kicks hard.

ME: My office?

ME: The real one, not the public one

ARIANA: Actually

ARIANA: Could we meet at Madame Rousseau's?

ARIANA: She gave me a key for extra practice before the wedding

The words hit like a physical thing. In the weeks since our first lesson, I've watched her transform from "caffeinated penguin" (Madame's words) to someone who moves with surprising grace. Someone who's learned to trust her partner. To let go.

Just like I've learned to let go with her.

ME: The studio will be closed

ME: Madame has a performance tonight

ARIANA: I know

ARIANA: That's why I thought...

ARIANA: I need to tell you something

My stomach drops.

Because this is it. Whatever she's been hiding, whatever's been making her run...

My father's words echo in my head: You're making a mistake.

Maybe I am.

Maybe caring this much, wanting this much, risking this much—maybe it's all a terrible mistake.

But as I stare at the protein powder research I definitely shouldn't have done, at the contingency plans I shouldn't have made, at all the evidence of how much I already care...

I realize it's too late.

I'm already in too deep.

My phone buzzes one final time:

YASMIN: Your mother's here

YASMIN: With more crystals

YASMIN: And something called a "love attraction grid"

I look at my office, at the life I've built, at all the careful control I'm about to risk.

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