Page 56 of Because of Her

And Maisie’s laughter still won’t quit. Which is odd because I never hear Mrs Kelly and our living spaces share a wall. I never heard the previous occupant of apartment thirty two. But Maisie, I hear her every time she is here. And right now, her voice is getting louder.

Callum’s is there, too. Gruff and grumpy, broken, cut-off sentences spread across the hall.

“Cassidy!” Maisie’s voice calls to me as a sharp rap sounds.

I shake off the unease that was starting to spread through me. Walking up the hall, I step out of my apartment and collide with Callum. Wearing dark suit pants and a tight white shirt, he has one arm stretched above my doorframe. He hangs his weight in the most infuriatingly sexy way. It’s unfair. That a man this perfect has a daughter. That nothing comes easy for me. For us.

“I need your help.” His voice is low and restrained, as though he is holding back all the tension I heard while I was unintentionally eavesdropping. Although his stance is casual, his fists are clenched and the vein in his pulse point throbs.

“What happened?”

Maisie squishes her way between us. The bright pink bow sits on her head, atop a near perfect ballet bun. Her tutu puffs up as she finds space that doesn’t exist against Callum’s legs.

“Will you take me to dance class?”

Her face is lit up, eyes sparkling and cheeks puffed up in her trademark grin.

“Huh?” I blink a few times, processing what she asked me.

“I was going to take her, but I’m also supposed to be at work. The board called a last minute meeting. They want me there in person.”

“Is everything okay?”

He grunts as he nods, dropping his arm to rest a hand on my shoulder.

“With work, yeah. They pull this all the time and it’s nothing. But it’s Maisie’s first class, it’s not fair if she has to miss it.”

My ears ring. This feels like too much. I hardly know Maisie. She barely knows me. Callum and I aren’t even a couple, no matter how much a part of me might wish we were. It’s not right that I should take her to her first class.

“What about Audrey?”

“She’s at work. She’s too far away to get back on time.”

“Please, Cassidy!” Maisie tugs at the hem of my shirt. “It will be so cool. To have a real life ballerina take me to my first class!”

Clasping her hands under one cheek, she tilts her head to the side and pouts her lips. Blinking vigorously, she looks up at me through her lashes. It’s impossible to resist.

Shaking my hands at my sides, I shift my attention back to Callum. He has taken a step back, and now holds a laptop satchel at his side.

“Please, Rogue?” His voice is tender, lips tight and eyes a little glassy as he looks between his daughter and me.

“Okay, tell me where we have to go.”

If it was anywhere else, I would have said no, but the ballet studio is only two blocks away and we’ll walk past my favourite ice cream shop. Plus, I did have fun dancing with Maisie at the ballet exhibit. Knowing I passed my love of dance onto a child fills my heart more than I care to admit.

Maisie walks the whole way to the studio without complaining. She skips along the sidewalk, singing as she goes. When we step inside, she jumps herself onto a chair and starts pulling off her boots.

The reception area is a long room with plenty of couches and chairs scattered along the side wall. A pair of giant pointe shoes hang from the ceiling. Young girls giggle in excitement, gracefully skipping lengths of the space while their tutus bounce behind them.

“Will you help me, Cassidy?”

Maisie holds out two tiny ballet shoes. Just like the ones I still have tucked into my bottom drawer. To this day, I can’t bear to get rid of them. I’d always imagined passing them to my daughter one day and when I found out that would never happen it was easier to throw them in the drawer and forget about that dream.

Seeing Maisie’s bright new shoes though, I wonder why I thought any child would want my old ones anyway. Where my leather has cracked and the pink has faded to a murky tan, Maisie’s are shiny and clean. Much more fitting for a ballerina in training.

I stretch them onto her feet, careful the elastic doesn’t pinch her skin.

“We’ll need to get you some ballet socks or tights.”

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