Page 65 of A Sinful Gravity

I was just channeling all the chaos in my head through my body.

Cassian's words from that night, that brutal kiss—they'd been lodged in my chest ever since.

Laila matched my schedule, with Chloe or Amy watching her. When I got home at night, she'd pull me close and tell me about her day. Those were the only moments I could really breathe.

"Mommy!"

Laila's voice rang out from the apartment entrance. I checked my watch—ten-thirty already. Chloe stood at the door with her,Laila fighting to keep her eyes open but determined to wait for me.

"Baby, why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Waiting for you." She rubbed her eyes and threw herself at my legs. "Did you dance well today?"

"Not bad."

"Will you dance again tomorrow?"

"Yes."

She nodded, then looked up at me. "But Mommy's time is mine now."

I smoothed her hair. "Yes. I will tell you a story, okay?"

I scooped Laila up and turned to Chloe. "Sweetie, I've been so swamped lately—"

"Don't give me that." Chloe cut me off. "Being with Laila is pure joy. She's an angel."

Laila giggled in my arms. "I like Aunt Chloe, too."

I smiled. Around them, I could always be myself.

"After opening night, things will calm down. Then we'll all go out together."

"Deal." Chloe nodded briskly, then waved at Laila. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart."

After Chloe left, I lay down next to Laila, ready for bedtime stories.

Laila spoke up suddenly. "Mommy, that man we met at the restaurant, does he know Aunt Chloe?"

My heart lurched.

"What?"

"The man with blonde hair." Laila played with her fingers. "I accidentally went into Aunt Chloe's study today and saw their photo together on the shelf."

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Yes, they know each other. That's why there's a photo."

"But Mommy knows him, too, right?" She looked up at me, eyes innocent. "Do you have a photo together?"

"Baby, it was so long ago, Mommy can't remember." I forced a smile, my voice tight. "Okay, now, let's hear a story, shall we?"

"Once upon a time..."

Laila's attention shifted to the fairy tale. Within minutes, she'd drifted off.

I kissed her forehead gently, my heart a tangled mess.

The next day after rehearsal, I sat in the backstage dressing room with an ice pack on my ankle. I'd landed wrong from a grand jeté—twisted it. Nothing serious, but it had swollen.