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“Do you have a boyfriend?” she blurts out.
I’m taken aback by her question. Blushing, I shake my head.
“No. I did for a little while. But mostly, I’ve been really focused on dance. It takes a lot to be a ballerina.”
“Like what?” She is looking down at her drawing, scribbling blue and purple over the planet. But I can tell that she’s listening very closely.
“Well… you have to practice. I danced all day, almost every day. In fact, when I was only a little older than you, I went to a special school that allowed me to study for two hours and dance for six. There was no life outside of dancing. No going out. No meeting people.”
Isla frowns. “That sounds boring.”
“Yeah.” A chuckle escapes my lips. “I really loved dancing, though.”
“More than a boyfriend?”
I slide her a grin. “Definitely more. Besides, I don’t like checking in with someone or feeling like my boyfriend is going to be jealous if I go out alone.” I roll my eyes. “Basically, boys are stupid. Don’t ever grow up if you don’t have to.”
That’s actually only touching the surface of my reasons why I’m not dating anybody. But it all boils down to distrust and money. I don’t want to be anyone’s sugar mama. But damn if I’ll be anyone’s sugar baby, either.
That limits my dating choices to people that have the same job as me. And I haven’t ever found a single one of my fellow dancers the slightest bit attractive,
Isla twitches her nose. “You could date my Daddy. He needs a nice girlfriend. And you seem okay.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, judging my reaction. I give her a lopsided grin.
“What makes you say that?”
She shrugs, looking intently at her coloring book. “I think my Daddy is sad. Mommy went away a long time ago. Daddy says she loves me, but I don’t really know. Now you’re here…”
“Well, I’m not the only woman here. What about Natasha?”
“Duh. Have you even been around Natasha? She acts like she’s nice, but she isn’t. She gives me little pinches like this…” She reaches over and pinches me, hard and fast, right on the thigh.
“Ow!” I say, rubbing the spot. I scrunch my face up. “She does that to you? Why?”
“She pinches me all the time when Daddy isn’t looking. She’s mean. Almost as mean as Mommy when she left.”
My heartbeat picks up, pounding against my chest. “Your mother was mean?”
Isla nods, her expression hardening. “They fought before she left. She said she didn’t love me and that was why she had to go. Daddy thinks I didn’t hear her, but I did.”
I stop coloring and reach out a hand, touching her shoulder briefly. She looks up at me, her eyes troubled. I want to hug her, but I barely know her. I settle for squeezing her arm instead.
“I’m sorry you heard her say that. You’re a very lovable girl.”
Isla’s expression turns spiteful. “You don’t know anything about anything, Ella. My daddy said so.”
I make a face. “He might be right. But you know what I’m right about?” I point at her, trying to ease the tension. “You are a very likable and lovable person. Trust me, I have great taste in people.”
“Yeah?” she asks after a few seconds.
I nod emphatically. “Absolutely. Ask anybody.”
She screws up her mouth to the side. “Daddy says that you’re not a ballerina anymore. You used to be, but you hurt your leg.”
“That’s true.”
She looks down, clearly working through her own thoughts. When she speaks, her voice is very quiet. “Does that mean that you’ll stay for a while?”
