“I gathered,” he said. “Felix Bennet. Nice to meet you.”
Felix Bennet.
FelixBennet. Ididrecognize him. I knew that name. He was a principle dancer for one of the big companies. My favorite person in the whole world was obsessed with ballet. I’d heard—or read—his name a hundred times.
I’d also heard he’d been injured. The kind of injury ballet dancers didn’t come back from, according to the online article I’d glimpsed the headline of but not actually read.
What did you say about that kind of thing? Did you say anything at all? Would it be weird if I let him know I knew?
That explained the limp, at least.
“Your son is very dedicated,” Felix continued. “You must be proud.”
“Oh, uh. He’s my nephew, actually,” I said, putting a hand on Benji’s shoulder so he’d know I didn’t mean that made him less important to me than a son. I’d never planned to have kids, but I had one now, and no one was ever going to make him feel less than completely, wholly, unconditionally loved from the tips of his toenails to the ends of his hair. “I’m proud of anything he does.”
Felix’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched a fraction of a degree. Something about the way he looked at me this time was different, though I couldn’t have said exactly how.
“Nephew,” Felix repeated, as though he was testing out the word for the first time. He looked at Benji, who beamed up at him again. “Well, he’s obviously working hard.”
“He does,” I agreed. Benjilovedballet. Other kids watched Disney movies, Benji watched any production of any ballet he could find—or get me or his grandma to—on YouTube. It was all he ever talked about.
I loved him, and I wanted him to be happy, so I’d also watched more ballet in the past eight months than I thought most people did in their entire lives. I was even starting to get what Benji liked about it. I’d never be able to move like that—I was a big guy, and I’d always been on the clumsy side—but I could see the magic of watching other people do it. I could see the magic of it sparkling in Benji’s eyes as he watched.
If I regularly caught myself humming theNutcrackersuite or one of the themes fromSwan Lakewhile I worked in the shop, that was a small price to pay for his happiness.
“So I’ll see him next class…?” Felix asked.
“Right, yeah!” I shook myself out of my distraction. “Uh. See you round, I guess?”
See you round, I guess?
What was wrong with me?
Felix nodded, lips twitching into an expression that might have aspired to be a smile when it grew up. “I guess you will.”
I took Benji’s hand before I could embarrass myself any further and guided him out of the studio.
“Burger time?” I asked once we were out in the street, the sun sinking over the bay and casting everything in orange light. It’d been a beautiful day, at least. Spring was definitely well on the way.
“Burger time!” Benji enthused, squeezing my hand.
Who needed to know how to talk to unbelievably beautiful men when I had him?
“Felix wasthe prince in Swan Lake,” Benji said, making one of his fries do what I thought was maybe a pirouette.
Swan Lakewas his favorite ballet. I’d seen it so many times that I almost could have danced it myself, lack of coordination aside. Benji wanted to play Prince Siegfried one day, too.
“For awholeseason. He says if I keep working hard, I could be, too.”
“Gotta eat your fries first,” I said, pointing at the one in his hand. “So you’ll be tall enough.”
Not that he’d have to worry about that, if he took after me and dad in height as well as looks. If anything, he might end uptootall for ballet, which my research had told me was a thing. There was a sweet spot, apparently, between five-nine and six feet even.
Felix must’ve been five-ten, five-eleven or so. Five or six inches shorter than me. Tall under any other circumstances but standing next to me.
Benji shoved the fry in his mouth obediently. He was a good kid. I wasn’t surprised Felix liked him—as far as I was concerned, it was impossible not to. I hadn’t really understood what love was supposed to be like until he’d come into my life full time. Until he was my first thought every morning and my last one at night—what I could do to make his tiny life easier, how I could be there for him, what he needed.
“He hurt his leg,” Benji continued between fries. “So now he’s taking a break.”
