“It’s called you get misty-eyed every time Celeste does a pirouette.”
“Nothing wrong with that. She’s incredible. Never thought ballet would be my thing.” It’s kind of like when we play hockey, but less violent. The impossible speed, grace, and athleticism of ballet are mind-blowing.
Luna’s smile softens, and I squeeze her hand a little tighter.
After the final curtain call, we wait outside with the crowd. Celeste bounces out of the stage door ten minutes later, face flushed, grinning ear to ear. She’s in her warmups, hair still pulled back in a slick bun, her mother’s scarf around her shoulders.
Luna’s mom is with her. She’s bundled up in a long coat and leaning on a cane, but she looks present, and her eyes are clear. They’d been dulled by the pain for so long.
She got a new doctor a few months back. One that finally searched for the problem. Tried out some new medications until she found the one that worked. That gave her enough relief until her surgery next month.
Tonight, she made it out for Celeste. They all made it out to see her dance her first dance with her new academy.
And watching Luna hug her, that soft, crumpling hug that means everything all at once, I feel something in my chest click into place.
This is a family. The kind I never knew I needed. Hell, I never even knew this kind of love existed growing up.
Later, after the applause and flowers and awkward photos, Luna and I emerge from the subway tunnel into the fresh crisp late winter air.
Snow has started to fall. It’s the light, powdery kind, clinging to her eyelashes. She tucks her hand inside my coat like she always does, fingers finding their spot over my heartbeat.
“Think she knows how proud you are of her?” I ask.
She nods. “I think she finally gets it. Now that she’s reached the wise old age of almost nineteen.” Now she’s wearing my favorite smile. Corners quirked up in the perfect combination of happy and teasing.
Light pours from the big glass doors of our condo building, welcoming us home. But I don’t need to be in this place to be home. Home is anywhere I’ve got her at my side now.
Luna leans into me. “You still good with all of this?” she asks.
I know what she means.
The city. The cats. The chaos. Us. The temporary stint with a minor league team. Very temporary at this point. She doesn’t know it yet. I didn’t want to take away from Celeste’s big moment. But I’ve been called up.
I lift her hand to my lips. “I’ve never been better.”
She grins. “Even with Simon trying to murder you in your sleep?”
“Especially because of that.”
We reach the front door and pause. She turns to look at me, snow catching in the strands of her braid, her cheeks pink, her eyes shining.
“You still with me, Golden Boy?”
I press my forehead to hers.
“Forever.”
Chapter 41
Epilogue 2
Luna
There’sacat’staildraped across my trackpad, and I’m too fried to move it.
Simon is purring like a lawn mower, blissfully unaware that I’m twenty minutes into trying to decode why the forecheck collapsed in Game 5 of the semifinals. JJ sent me the footage last night with a text that said: “Tell me why the left D looks like he’s skating in quicksand?”
So far, I’ve come up with three hypotheses, none of them polite.
