I started as I caught the tail end of Cooper’s sentence. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I’d tuned him out.
“I missed that,” I admitted, glancing at him without meeting his eyes.
“I was asking if I could get you anything,” Cooper said. “Water, coffee… we brought juice boxes? They’ve got dinosaurs on ‘em.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “I’m okay.”
I wasn’t, but I would be. Once all this was over.
“You ever get stage fright?” Cooper asked.
In front of us, the first group of kids started their routine. We were the last of six groups, since we’d arrived with just a few minutes to spare.
“Never,” I said.
Cooper turned to me, brows raised in surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” I shrugged. “Not because I love being on stage, exactly, but… I couldn’t see the audience. I mean, usually literally, those lights are bright. But I didn’t… care? I wasn’t doing it for them.”
“You were doing it for you.” Cooper nodded, looking back to the group currently performing. “Makes sense.”
“Have you ever been on stage?”
Cooper scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I did the lighting for a school musical once. NotPhantom of the Opera.Fiddler on the Roof, actually. But no. My dad tried to make me get up and give a speech at my twenty-first birthday and I nearly passed out. I donotdo well on stage.”
That didn’t surprise me.Shywas one of the top five words I’d use to describe Cooper. Ilikedthat about him. I’d spent so much time with so many people who’d never brushed up against the concept of humility.
Cooper was different. He was different from anyone I’d ever known.
Which should have been all the clue I needed that I wouldn’t get to keep him.
Polite applause broke out as the first group finished, Cooper joining in with everyone else.
Silence fell again as the second group took to the little stage at the front of the room. This was exactly what my own company’s studio had looked like except for the color of the curtains framing the high windows above the mirrors—we’d had a deep oxblood red, these were a French navy.
They were good, and their choreography had taken their age into account, simple enough for under-8s but intricate enough to look impressive. I started to doubt the choice I’d made to push my kids into something more complex. They’d risen to the challenge, as far as I was concerned, but they still wobbled here and there. I was relying on them executing a difficult performance perfectly when it counted, rather than giving them something well within their abilities.
When the third group took the stage, I realized I might’ve been the only one who’d done that. What I’d put together wasmuchmore demanding. I’d treated my kids like they were already on a professional track. Had I expected too much of them?
I glanced down at Cooper’s hand. I wanted, more than I ever had, to reach out and take it. Feel the familiar calluses against my fingers, the gentle squeeze I knew he’d give me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the dancer I’d seen Cooper talking to earlier wave as the fourth group came on stage. Cooper must’ve seen it, too, because he looked over as well. The two of them exchanged nods.
I looked at his hand once more, then curled my own around my other arm.
“You okay?” Cooper asked, low enough that I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t so used to the sound of his voice. “Do you need to sit?”
Why did he have to askthat?
I knew why, obviously. It was even sweet of him to think of me.
I just wished he hadn’t. Not like that, not right now.
“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my voice equally low. Even then, one of the mothers standing near us shot me a glare so sharp it made me flinch.
Cooper’s fingers brushed against my hip, fleeting warmth.
It really wasn’t that I didn’t think Cooper liked me. I knew he did, I didn’t doubt his sincerity.
