Seamlessly flowing between twists and turns, Frankie let her real leg do most of the anchoring, while spring-boarding off her prosthetic when it made sense. The Mouse King in this part mirrored her like a reflection, backwards but in synch until she finally pushed off into a rapid twirl on the tips of her prosthetic toes, and as the spin ended, she needed to trust-fall for Teddy to catch her.
In previous rehearsals, she’d always hesitated and stumbled away on her good leg. Now she did the move with confidence, and Teddy dipped her low after catching her, before she pulled up and pushed away from him to spin away on both feet in a dramatic flourish.
“Good. Do that in class tonight and you can have all the cake you want. Otherwise, the leftovers belong to me and Finn.”
Frankie pouted again, but he could tell she knew when he was ribbing her in good faith. It was the only reason he pushed her so hard; because he knew she could handle it.
So far, the rest of the class could too.
“Better hurry before anyone finds that cake,” Finn said, leading them out of the workout room. Frankie all but sprinted ahead of him.
“Are we sharing with the whole class or digging in right now?” Teddy asked, leaning in the doorway once they reached the break room and Finn carefully revealed the cake under Frankie’s scrutiny.
It really did say: Congrats on starting off on the right foot.
“Guess I better do theheroicthing,” she said after getting a look at the magenta buttercream, “but I get the biggest piece, right?”
“For saving the world from the Mouse King?” Finn said. “Absolutely.”
They gathered their things—and the cake—and prepared to head to the studio.
“Bye, Betsy! Bye, Meagan!” Finn waved as they passed into the waiting room.
Betsy barely looked up from her computer, but Meagan came out from behind the counter.
“Have fun tonight. Oh, and Finn? Ronnie said to remind you about replacing your windshield wipers?”
“Oh shoot, that’s right. I was supposed to do that tonight. It’ll take five minutes—”
“We’ll have time,” Teddy interrupted.
They didn’t only have Frankie’s final appointment to celebrate, after all, but the anniversary of their first date (after the initial failed one and Finn’s drunken beach fiasco).
Four months and counting.
Finn was also part of Teddy’s class, mostly as his body-double for moves he could no longer demonstrate, and for his skills as a medical professional should anyone have trouble. Up to now, while a few times one or more students had ended up on the floor, no one had suffered any lasting damage, only laughter.
Teddy didn’t need physical therapy that often himself anymore either, only once a week when added to his twice-a-week dance class. Teaching didn’t pay much, but that had never been what he was looking for when debating options for his retirement.
Money he had; now he wanted purpose, direction, fulfillment, and he’d found it in ways he honestly loved, maybe more than he’d ever loved the high-profile stress of ballet in the city.
“You are amazing with them, Teddy. With all of them,” Finn said after class, on their way to Firestorm Garage. “You amaze me. Every day.”
“You must be easily impressed,” Teddy droned.
Finn smacked him in the shoulder.
“Thank you,” Teddy said seriously. “Not only for the compliment, but for the suggestion in the first place. I got so used to expecting perfect, I forgot that sometimes the best things don’t have to be. I mean, you certainly aren’t.”
“Asshole.” Finn laughed.
“Never denied it.”
“No, you didn’t.” As he shifted into Park, still chuckling, Finn looked at Teddy across the car with the same seriousnesswhile never losing his smile. “A year ago, I was the opposite, always settling, always afraid to push for more than I thought I deserved, afraid of losing what I had.
“Sometimes it’s okay to strive for perfect, to believe you’re worth perfect. We just have different ideas of what perfect means.” He reached over and took Teddy’s hand, squeezing it gently.
“I’m not perfect, Finn.”
