Page 102 of In Step

He disappeared through the departure doors with one final wave, while I fell into the driver’s seat and watched and waited until his flight left the runway and hurtled into the sky, taking Abe and my heart with it.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

New York, 10 weeks later

Abe

“Areyou joining us for a drink tonight, maybe even dust off your dancing shoes?” Markus called from the stage where he and a group of dancers were seated on the boards going through their stretches. Markus was a gorgeous, upbeat, twenty-four-year-old, up-and-coming star of the New York City Ballet. He’d also made no bones about his interest in me. Not pushy, but not shy about flirting when we weren’t working, either. He was... cute, I guessed.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” I shot him a warm smile because he was a nice kid. “This old body needs a lot more rest this week than going out with you lot is gonna allow.”

Most of the group laughed or made some joking comment about how I could still cut the boards pretty good for a middle-aged guy, but Markus just looked... disappointed. He held my gaze and I sighed, figuring the time had maybe come for a private chat, just so he was clear that nothing wasevergoing to happen between us. Marcus was too young, too bubbly, too eager, too... everything—and about as far away from a certain blond-haired, world-wise, slightly beaten-up-by-life beauty as you could get.

“Why don’t you ask, Henri?” I suggested. “He needs some of the grump ironed out of him after today’s rehearsal. You lot are turning him grey.”

More laughter, accompanied by taunting shouts of, “Henri, Henri, Henri.”

Henri poked his head out from the wings, wearing a grin from ear to ear, and shook his head. “Like hell. I have a husband I’ve hardly seen for two weeks waiting at home with catch-up on his mind, a bottle of red, and a Christmas tree to decorate after. You guys got nothing to beat that.”

His words poked at that tender place in my chest that had been growing for weeks and I mentally slapped myself, my gaze sweeping the beautiful theatre.Thisis what you’ve been working for, remember. New York. A career game-changer. And in so many ways, that was true.

I’d loved the last two and a half months, at least as far as the work went. The elite company didn’t hold back on quality or expense when it came to their major productions, and I’d relished every moment working with its talented dancers. Contracts like this were the epitome of freelance choreography and they didn’t come easily. Reputation, word of mouth, and experience were crucial to landing the sought-after jobs, and I’d worked my butt off to get there. But there was no denying that parts of the lifestyle were getting increasingly harder to deal with.

I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my thick coat and pushed through the theatre doors and out into the freezing New York winter, a flurry of seasonal snow making me blink. Just what I needed. I turned my collar up against the bitter easterly rollicking up the street and made a sharp right, heading for the tiny studio apartment the company kept on their books for visiting ballet staff.

A Santa-suited busker crooning a pretty good rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “Silver Bells” pushed his hat toward me and I filled it with the small change from my pocket, as I did every day. He smiled and I kept walking, eager to leave the sentimentalities of the season in my wake. I didn’t need to be reminded just how far I was from home, a fact which had never played on my emotions until, oh, about two and a half months ago—go figure.

Five minutes later I put the key in the lock of my temporary and very un-Christmassy home. Vietnamese ordered, I cracked a beer and switched the television to CNN in the hope of getting something other than seasonal sappiness. Then I collapsed on the couch to check my emails. My work life might fire my creativity on all cylinders, but my social and downtime sucked big time, although I had at least scored an invite to Christmas lunch with Henri and his husband, as bittersweet as they would surely be for my lovesick heart.

An email from the Berlin State Ballet with my next contract attached—timed to start a week after I finished in New York—sat at the top of my inbox, but I went with the one from my brother first.

It felt good that Con and I were approaching things like a team now, that I was a part of what was going on with our mother and the decisions around that. She was still managing fine with the extra assistance and there’d been no notable worsening in her dementia since I’d left. We’d talked about me returning to help when things got sticky, as they inevitably would, and Con had jumped at the offer. I had no idea how that would look in terms of my work, but I’d deal with that when the time came. I’d left Painted Bay with an oddly refreshed view on family, amongst other things.

This latest email was full of gossip and family updates, photos of Mum and some of Fiona’s thirteenth birthday party, a few of their Christmas tree and decorations—like I needed more of those depressing reminders—plus a ton of Fiona’s end of year school production ofPinocchio. Those brought a huge smile to my face and took me right back to the kids in Painted Bay.

Then again, it seemed every fucking thing led me back to Painted Bay.

I closed Con’s email and opened the one from Berlin, going straight to the amended contract that extended my time by a second term. Berlin was a great company, and it would be good for my resume, but it meant halving the amount of vacation I’d planned to spend in New Zealand. With only two weeks to visit Con and my mother, I’d have little more than a weekend to visit Painted Bay.

My stomach clenched at the thought. To be back in New Zealand and not spend most of it with Kane fucked with my head in ways I couldn’t deal with. Time apart hadn’t lessened any of my feelings toward him. I just didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

Kane and I talked a lot that first month after I left, but since I’d told him of the second Berlin offer, he’d begged off our last two video calls, citing various reasons that did a poor job of covering the real one. And I totally understood. This back and forth between us, without any clear understanding of what we were to each other, was killing me too, protecting our hearts by a moratorium on saying how we really felt, and steering clear of any conversation around what the other’s social life entailed, not wanting to know. My answer to any question about my spare time would’ve been simple. No dates. No hook-ups. A big fat zero. But I didn’t dare ask Kane about his, and I guessed he felt the same. Which left us in a kind of no man’s land that was hard to navigate.

Like he’d read my mind, a video call request popped up on my screen and the profile pic of Bossy brought a smile to my face, as always. I pushed accept and lay back on the couch, putting the laptop on my chest. “Hey, you.”

His smile and bed-mussed hair brought the sunshine of Painted Bay with it, washing my poky little apartment in unseasonable summer warmth. Or maybe that was just my heart.

“Not working today?” I asked, noting the time.

“Nah. I’m heading to Auckland for my specialist appointment.”

My heart rate shot up.Why hadn’t he told me about that?“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just the usual HIV check-up. But I’m going to visit the vet tech school before I leave. I thought I might apply next year.”

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “That’s great. Then you still like the job after a month.”

“Love it. And this new guy, Adam, seems to be working well for Leroy, so I don’t feel guilty anymore about leaving him short-handed.”

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