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“Follow me.” He takes my hand and leads me down the narrow alley to the back of the studio. “Balor, Miss Theresa’s Dance Oasis on Mayfair. Why is it closed? Okay, call me back. Oh wait, there’s an electronic lock on the back door, can you—” He’s interrupted by a click as the knob turns.
“We can’t break in!” I look around. “Miss Theresa lives here in Astoria. She might come by and see us.”
“It’s not breaking in. It opened on its own.” Lachlan winks.
Curiosity itches under my skin that maybe there’s a clue inside to why she closed down. I follow Lachlan as if I have a choice, because he’s holding my hand. He’s always holding my hand.
The smell of the varnished floors hits me, reminding me how much I miss coming here. AfterMamanbrought me to Papa’s, this was the only place I didn’t feel so alone. Stasia was a moody teenage girl who didn’t have time for me in the early years. We got closer later on. For a long time, this studio was the only place I felt happy, and where I could be myself. And now it’s gone. I double over with emotion, struggling to breathe.
“Katya?” Lachlan soothes my back with a meaty hand.
“I’m all right. This studio closing feels like such a loss. Like someone died.”
Lachlan’s phone rings. “Yeah, Bale. Uh huh. Thanks. Any cameras still hooked up in here? They’re turned off? Okay. Talk later.” He puts his phone away. “Miss Theresa’s husband retired, and they moved to the Hamptons.”
“Really?” I scratch my head and wonder why she didn’t mention it to me when I saw her last month. “That means she’s okay?”
“Apparently.”
“I’d like to go see her. I’ve been to the Hamptons with Papa and Stasia. You can give me a driver, or I can take the train to get out there.”
Ringed and tattooed, Lachlan’s middle finger rests at the base of my throat. “You don’t take a train by yourself. I’ll take you. My sister lives in East Hampton.”
“Oh! Maybe we can spend weekends there visiting her.”
He frowns. “Actually… We don’thang outthere. We don’t want to draw attention to her. But we can visit Miss Theresa if you want.”
“I’d like that.” I look down at the blonde-wood floorboards.
“When you’re healed, we’ll go see her.” He strokes my ponytail.
“Right.” I consider my bruises and what she’d think.
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Sure.” I let him lead me out the back door but stop. “No. Actually, can I…”
“Can you what?” When I don’t respond, he cups my chin. “Never be afraid to ask me for something. I’m your husband.”
“When I would stop by, Miss Theresa let me do a routine for the class.” My gaze cuts across the room and a memory dissolves of me in a line of other pre-teens. Many whose mamas forced lessons on them. Lessons I adored, lessons that became my salvation.
Much like Lachlan is now.
At times, I felt I was the only student who wanted to be here. Miss Theresa saw that and gave me the most complicated parts for solos. It helped me. My heart swells at how she shaped me. I don’t think I ever really thanked her.
“Can I do a short routine I showed the little girls when I came here?”
“Of course.” He squeezes my shoulder and steps away to lean against the mirrored wall.
The light coming in from Mayfair Street stills me. “Oh, we’re still trespassing.”
“No one will bother you. Even if a cop shows up, I’ll—”
“Lachlan! You can’t hurt a police officer!”
He barks a laugh. “We own the police in this city. Dance for me, little wife.”
“Okay.” I place my shoulder bag on the floor, but Lachlan picks it up and holds it against his chest. It’s one of the few purses I had and found it packed in one of my suitcases. Nadia had collected my wallet and passport earlier that day. She must have dropped them off after dealing with Rahil’s body. They ended up in one of the bags. All my credit cards and the little bit of cash I had in my wallet were gone, though.
