Page 22 of Wounded Dance
“He was always pretty troubled,” I say. “But he didn’t do any of that stuff when I knew him.”
“Tough life, looks like,” Blitz says. “But the lawyer says even if he does find a way to challenge the adoption, which would be a significant expense just in getting a judge to order the DNA test, lover boy would have to do all sorts of service plans to convince anybody he could be a fit father.”
“I don’t want them to take Gabriella from Gwen.” I realize I’ve said her name out loud and glance around us in a panic. Fortunately, only Aurora’s toddler class is running, and the parents tend to sit inside the studio for that. The hall is quiet.
“We will do everything we can to prevent that,” Blitz says. “Jeff says we can do all sorts of delays and changes of venue to make hiring a lawyer too expensive for him.”
“Did you send him my shots of the adoption papers?” I ask.
“Yes, he’s got them.”
One of the jazz instructors, Jacob, pops out of Studio 2. “Hey, Blitz, I’ve got a kid here who’s showing some serious potential in contemporary. Can you take a look at his moves and give us some pointers?”
“Sure,” Blitz says. “You okay, Livia? You want to come in with us?”
“No,” I say. I really want to just sit and think. Dreamcatcher is my happy place. “Maybe I’ll dance a bit in an empty room.”
“Sounds good.” Blitz pops up and heads into the studio.
But I don’t go into a room to practice, even though I should. I’ve only had mypointeshoes for a month, and I really need to work.
Instead, I think about Denham. I knew he had a criminal history, but I told Blitz the truth. He was fine when he was with us. But he did tell me about his life before us and the things he’d had to do.
When we had that conversation, nothing had happened between us yet. He’d ogled me in a bathing suit, and I’d obsessed over sweat trickling down his back. We’d had a lot of meals together and recently Mom had taken us both shopping for school supplies.
I found myself wanting to be around Denham all the time. So when Mom took Andy to the park for a playdate, I stayed home in hopes of talking to him.
He stayed put in his room, though, and didn’t answer when I knocked.
I gave up. None of my friends were available to come over, so to pass the time, I put on my bathing suit to get some sun.
But looking at myself in the mirror, thinking of Denham watching me, gave me a hot feeling that made me feel more alive than I had ever been. I experimented with the tankini, rolling the top up until it exposed my pale belly. It could use a little color, I reasoned, even though I could picture Denham staring. Another thrill zipped through me.
I picked up a beach towel and a pair of sunglasses and opened the door to my bedroom with as much noise as I could, hoping Denham would come out of his room.
Except he was already out. He was in the kitchen, pouring water in a glass. He wore shorts, and had been doing so more and more since the day he worked in the yard. He was facing away, so I passed behind him silently and reached for the back doorknob.
When he turned and saw me, his eyes locked on my body. I froze, my hand on the cool metal, trying to stay nonchalant as his gaze traveled along my legs, belly, and rested on the top of my suit. Something happened and I glanced down, seeing my nipples puckered like it was cold, even though it wasn’t at all. Without thinking, I pressed my hand to one, and Denham let out a little strangled sound.
When I looked up at him, he had forgotten the glass, and water was overflowing into the sink from the faucet.
“Your glass is full,” I said, and he didn’t respond for a moment. Then he realized his hand was wet and he reached to shut off the flow.
I managed to open the door. “I’m going outside,” I said.
He nodded and brought the glass to his lips. But he forgot how full it was and splashed water on his chin. I laughed a little and headed to the yard.
When I glanced back at the house, I saw he was standing by the window over the sink. My body felt on fire. There was this drumbeat inside me now and I needed him to look at me. I felt desperate for it.
Even as I sat in the chair and adjusted the back so I was angled to the sun, I imagined him sitting next to me, his eyes devouring my skin. Then he wouldn’t be able to resist and would lean over, his lips gently kissing mine. It would be the most incredible thing in the world.
Every kiss I’d ever seen in any movie had looked fantastic. There was more, but the steps to sliding into a bed together were fuzzy to me. That didn’t matter. If Denham kissing me felt as incredible as I knew it would, that would be enough.
I arranged myself in the sun, leaning back, dropping the sunglasses over my eyes. I couldn’t tell anymore if he was watching me, but I imagined that he was, leaning against the kitchen counter, desperately wishing to kiss me.
Then the back door slammed.
He was here.
