Dani made an offended sound. I accepted the sign.
“Thank you.”
After Gloria and Lola left, Dani remained unusually quiet.
“You could have declined.”
“Yes. You don’t have to perform with them. We can tell Gloria the challenge is complicated.”
“Can we?”
If Gloria knew, the disclosure circle widened. If she did not, we would lie through dinner.
“We should discuss it before Sunday.”
“Scheduled deception review?”
“Yes.”
She smiled faintly. Then her gaze moved to the dinosaur sign in my hands.
“You really like ankylosaurus?”
“They are structurally efficient.”
Dani laughed. The sound filled the emptying studio. I had not kissed her again. We had not violated the amendment. Nothing had changed. And yet, as she walked beside me toward the lobby, I understood something had shifted. I had made her lose her balance. She had invited me into her family. Neither event was part of the agreement. Both felt more real than anything we had rehearsed.
Chapter Ten
Six Miles and Pancakes
Dani
Amy’s first six-mile run began at eight on Saturday, June twenty-first, and ended at eleven forty-three that night. The distance took less time than everything after it. At seven forty-five, I waited beside the lakeside trail with water, first aid, and the knowledge that Amy had packed for a small expedition. Her running belt held two gels, blister patches, tissues, identification, cash, a transit card, a hair tie, and a printed hourly weather report.
“We can look up,” I said.
“Phones can fail.”
“Satellites?”
“Do not mock infrastructure concerns.”
I made her hand me one backup gel. The rest could stay. The belt had enough structural integrity to qualify as equipment. The lake reflected a pale spring sky. Runners moved around us in both directions. Amy checked her silver watch.
“We should begin.”
“You’re nervous.”
“I am prepared.”
“Not the same.”
She touched the watch. “Six miles is longer than I have run.”
“You have covered almost five with intervals. Today is the same method, longer time.”
“What pace?”
