"I haven't taught dance in—" I could tell the truth here and admit I'd stopped teaching after my parents informed me I'd be going to college in California and not Barnard in New York City as planned. That they'd dropped me into an emotional wasteland and I proceeded to spend a decade not caring whether I lived or died, let alone danced. Or I could do what I usually did and smooth down the sharp edges to keep everyone comfortable. "It's been awhile. I haven't had much time for it."
"You're going to have to do better than that, Saunders, because your entire life was ballet."
A shake of his head sent those unruly waves spilling down to his eyes, and I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from reaching out. He didn't want that from me. And nothing good would come of it anyway.
"I did live for ballet," I agreed. I'd lost a lot over the years but there wasn't much that hurt like losing dance. "And I loved teaching the little kids. But things changed. I changed."
He stared at me like he could reach across the table and wipe the lies off my face.
"I didn't go too far though," I said. "I worked at the San Diego Ballet after college. In development. Fundraising."
A whip-hard laugh cracked out of him. "How long did that last?"
"Long enough," I said, suddenly indignant up to my elbows.
"You're telling me your entire job was asking people for money, and you, the same person who allowed most teachers to get away with calling youAubreyfor the duration of your high school career, were successful at that? Apologies, but I have some questions."
"It wasn't like I was asking for money face-to-face," I argued. "There were galas for that. Silent auctions. Annual campaigns. And I can go on about dancers—their backstories, their talent, all of it—to anyone. They'd throw money at me just to get me to shut up."
He scooped up some animal crackers, tossed them in his mouth. "But you hated it."
"I loved the company. The shows were amazing. The directors were great."
"Youhatedit."
"I mean—" I held up my hands, hoping he'd let me off the hook. He went on crunching those crackers. "It wasn't the best job I've ever had. Okay? Happy now?"
"Delighted." The sharp arch of his brow said otherwise. "Elementary school, do you like that?"
"It's exhausting and infuriating and micromanaged to death but I can't even explain how much I love it." I reached for my mason jar, slicked my palms on the condensation. "My school loops in fourth and fifth grade so I'm with the same kids for two years. I wasn't sure about that part at first but now I wouldn't dream of anything else. I'm sending my kiddos off to sixth gradeat the end of this week and I'm very ready for summer break but not at all ready to say good-bye to them."
"This is your last week of school?"
I nodded as I took a sip of my tea. "Yeah, wild week ahead. Field day, portfolio share day, art showcase day, stepping up ceremony."
His eyes brightened. "You do love it."
Another nod. "I do. I could write a hundred pages on the big and small problems gridlocking education right now, but every September is a fresh start for everyone, and that's what I love the most."
"That's—" He held up a finger as a chime sounded. He pulled a phone from his pocket, saying, "Give me a minute to check on this."
I split the halved morning glory muffin in two and ate small, slow bites while he scowled down at his screen. I pretended I wasn't watching or trying to read upside down. At last, a quiet laugh huffed out of him and he glanced at me, his eyes warm.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
He shrugged in a way that saidyesandnoandit's a pain but I'll deal with it later. Then, "Percy needed me to know that the toaster waffles at his grandmother's house are inferior and he'd like a care package sent immediately."
"Percy?"
Jude unlocked his phone, revealing a photo of a small, dark-haired boy with espresso eyes hidden behind round glasses. Eyes just like the ones watching me from the other side of the table.
"My son," he said.
chapter six
Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: litigate
