“Marvelous!” I nod. “But yes, I’m fine.”
I push off the sand and turn to Caleb. “I appreciate the chat.”
“Anytime.”
If it’s his brother behind the blackmail, he’ll only want enough to further his career. I’m sure I can find something to pacify him.
“I should go.” I stand up, brushing sand from my legs as our eyes meet. “The others are waiting.”
6
Caleb
I tap my fingersagainst the steering wheel, waiting for Dom’s driveway gates to open.
Amara walks out, her dance bag slung over one shoulder. The morning sun catches her hair, making the sun-kissed strands of her brunette hair glow gold.
“Morning!” Poppy sing-songs in the back seat as Amara slides into the front. Poppy is always happy. Amara, not so much.
“Dad, tell Amara about my audition.”
“What audition?” Amara turns to face my daughter.
“Juilliard.” I grip the wheel tighter.
“New York,” Amara gasps. “You’re leaving me?”
“Yes. She wants to study dance in New York. Which is completely unnecessary when there are perfectly good schools here.”
“But Dad, I want to be seen. Australian schools are great but Juilliard...” Poppy leans forward between the seats. “It’s where dreams come true.”
“It’s where eighteen-year-olds get eaten alive,” I mutter.
“I can come with you,” Amara says, like she’s just realized something nobody else knows.
“Yeah!” Poppy jumps on the seat behind us. “I just have to do well in the audition.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I tell Poppy. It’s not that I don’t believe in her, I do. But she already mentioned this morning about the limited spaces for contemporary dancers.
Amara’s hand brushes my arm. “She’s talented enough.”
“That’s not the point.” I start the engine and move away, not wanting to listen anymore.
“Then what is?” Poppy crosses her arms as I turn a corner. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
I don’t answer. I stare at the road ahead.
Poppy doesn’t realize that after losing her mother, that’s exactly what I want. To keep her protected from the world forever.
The rest of the drive passes with Poppy chattering about New York, choreography, and costumes.
I sigh as I catch her gaze in the rearview mirror. She knows I’m being overprotective, and I suspect she is trying to get on my nerves.
“We’re here,” I grumble as I park at the rear of the parking lot and out of the glare of the sun.
“Thanks, Caleb,” Amara says as the two girls climb out of the car and walk to the back.
Amara’s leotard rides up as she grabs her bag from the trunk. I force myself to look away.
