After a few minutes, he stood up on shaky legs and kissed her lips, then rinsed himself under the water.
“We should probably turn it off,” she said, her voice still breathy. “Isn’t there a drought?”
He turned back to her, grin back in place. It did something to her, that grin. Lit up the darkest, hardest to find places in her chest.
“I don’t know about a drought,” he said, kissing her jaw, then her neck. “Far as I can tell, things around here areverywet.”
Carly gave him a playful shove, then remembered they were in a shower and put her hand on his waist to steady him in case he slipped. He laughed, turned off the water, then stepped out and passed her a towel. She thanked him with a kiss and watched him walk out of the room, wondering if she could follow on legs that had almost given out in the shower.
“Marcus said they’re picking up Heather’s mum at the airport this morning,” he said, heading to the wardrobe. “What do I need to know about Mrs. Hays before I meet her?”
“Heather didn’t write you a one-page briefing memo?”
“No, I think she’s counting on you to brief me.”
“Well, first of all, it’sMs.Hays. Linda. Heather’s dad left before she was even born, and Linda never remarried. She’s … she’s nice enough. She worked all the time when Heather was little, because he only paid child support sometimes, so she wasn’t around a lot. Heather moved into the dorms when she was fourteen, and she spent a lot of time at my place. Kind of like you and Marcus’s family. But Linda loved Jack.Lovedhim. Or the idea of him.”
“Why?”
Carly worked her fingers through her hair and sighed.
“He looked stable. He was from a wealthy family, and he was always going to have a job in the ballet world, because of who he was and who his parents were. I think Linda thought he was finally going to give Heather the kind of life she wished she could have given her. He put on a good show of being loving and attentive when the right people were watching, and he fooled her, just like he fooled everyone else.”
Nick returned to the bathroom, wearing a pale blue short-sleeve button shirt and a pair of chino shorts. He stepped behind her and met her eyes in the mirror.
“But he didn’t fool you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No. I’ve known Jack since I was five and he was seven. He was an asshole of a kid. Entitled, manipulative. As we got older, he only got worse.”
“How does Linda feel about Marcus? They’ve met, right?”
“We all went out to dinner when Heather was guesting with NYB last year,” Carly nodded, reaching for her sunscreen. “I think Linda was skeptical, but Marcus did okay. I was there as a buffer, and I think that helped, too. Linda likes me fine, even if she’s always thought I’m a bit of a bad influence on Heather.”
“Are you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“You’re damn right I am,” she said quickly, but then she paused. “Heather was such a serious kid, from the very first day she arrived at the NYB school. So obedient and determined and focused. I mean, you’ve seen the spreadsheets and the to-do lists. A bit of that rubbed off on me, I think, but a bit of my rebellion rubbed off on her, too, which I’m sure Linda didn’t appreciate. She really just wants Heather to be settled already, and the last few years have been a bit unsettled. It was the first time Heather ever deviated from her grand plan. It worked out okay, though.”
“Better than okay, I’d say. They’re great together,” he said, and she could feel him watching her as she walked into the bedroom to retrieve her clothes.
So are we, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind, and she stopped dead in the middle of pulling on her bra. She glanced over her shoulder, as if Nick could have heard the thought, but he was busy fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror. Ridiculous, she told herself. That voice wasn’t real. It was the orgasm talking, that was all. Next week this—this fling, this whatever it was—would be over, before Nick could tire of her. She’d go back to New York, back to work and the real world. She pulled her dress over her head, ignoring the hollow feeling in her stomach at the thought.
Carly and Nick had arranged to meet Ivy Page at a café on the Freshwater main drag. In the twenty-four hours since she’d asked to interview them, their follower counts had both jumped again. The photo Carly had posted this morning from a session they’d done in one of the old shopping arcades in the heart of the city, with shoppers bustling and blurring past her as she posed on pointe on the tiled floor, had amassed thousands of likes already.
Still, Carly was nervous. She didn’t have a lot of experience talking to the press. Heather and Nick had done plenty of it, but no one cared much what a corps dancer had to say about anything. She needed to get through this interview without fucking up.
They’d been waiting at a table for about ten minutes, and Carly had already finished her lamington, when a woman entered the café, looked around, and strode over to them. Ivy Page was petite and curvy, with shoulder-length light brown hair tucked behind her ears. She wore glossy black plastic glasses, a snug black dress that reached her shins, and a pair of strappy, block-heeled sandals, without which Carly suspected Ivy would be several inches shorter than her.
“You must be Nick and Carly,” she smiled down at them when she reached their table. “I’m Ivy. Thanks for making time for me.” They both stood to shake her hand, and Carly’s suspicions were confirmed; even with the heels, Nick towered over her.
“I’ll just go order a coffee and then we can get started,” Ivy said, and Carly nodded silently. As Ivy turned away and walked to the counter at the front of the café, Carly realized how sweaty her hand was and wiped it surreptitiously on her dress. Nick noticed, of course.
“Are you nervous?” he asked as they sat back down.
“A little,” she admitted. “I know this isn’t a big deal for you, Mr. Big Shot, but I really need this to work.”
Nick’s gaze dropped to the table, but then he reached down and squeezed her clammy hand. “Itisworking. That’s why we’re here.”
“I know, but …”
