Page 17 of Worth the Fight

“It’s a tiny apartment, tucked above a bakery in the 9th arrondissement. An easy walk to the opera house for me. Our breakup helped me realize a lot of things, actually. The most important being that I was too dependent on other people.”

My brows twist at that. “I never saw you that way, Mags. Hell, you moved from the States to Paris without knowing a soul. You forged your career yourself; no one handed it to you on a silver platter. That takes guts. Determination.”

“Maybe. But the ballet set me up in a furnished apartment with another dancer. I didn’t have to search for my own place or find a roommate. Being in the ballet, the other dancers became my friends. I had never lived alone, ever. I mean,” she chuckles, “Lukas, I didn’t even get my driver’s license at sixteen because I had you to drive me around. What sixteen-year-old isn’t dreaming of that day to have their freedom?”

I smile at that. “I loved driving you around.”

“It worked for us, but I needed to grow up.”

“Did our relationship hold you back? Did I?” I didn’t ever feel like I was holding her back. We argued a bit when she first said she wanted to move to France, but any bitterness I felt was short-lived. I always thought we communicated well, for the most part. To think now that I was keeping her down or holding her back in any way is new.

“No, not directly. I think to have a good relationship people have to depend on one another, but there has to be some independence, too. I didn’t know who I was outside of us. When we broke up, I realized that without you, without our life together, ballet was all I had.”

When she puts it that way, I guess it makes sense. Without her, without our group of friends, my only other focus was the Marines. Before that, it was baseball. But we started dating so young, and yeah, we spent every minute we could together, but we were in love. I guess, I thought that’s how it was.

“Anyways, when we broke up, I lived with Raymond and Ronaldo for the first few months, when things were the most rough. But I wanted—needed, maybe—to show myself that I had more to offer than just being your girlfriend.”

“But you did, Mags. You do. You always have.”

“It didn’t feel like that, not in the end, anyways. Even though I had my career, I realized that I hadn’t been giving it my all. I think my mind was always distracted, always worried about you, about us, that the breakup was the push I needed to focus on me.”

“Well, you’re welcome?” I tease, and she giggles.

“None of this is meant to make you feel bad. I don’t even know how I started babbling about this.” She takes another sip of coffee. “But I guess my entire point is that Ivy will turn out great. She will know what real love is like, and she will know heartbreak and loss because unfortunately, that’s life, but hopefully the love outweighs that.”

I press my lips to the top of Ivy’s head again, silently wishing that Mags’s words are true. “Are you ready for tonight’s performance?” I ask, opting for a change in conversation. “I have my laptop charged and ready.”

She hesitates. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” I tuck the phone between my cheek and shoulder, wrapping one arm around Ivy so I can stand. The blanket falls to the floor, and I carefully kick it to the side, toeing my way to her bassinet. She’s been passed out the entire phone call, so if I play my cards right, I might get to sleep an hour or so before she wakes to be fed. “You’re talking to a season ticket holder for the Paris Opera.”

“You said you watched some old performances, but not that you bought tickets.”

“Yup.” The phone starts to slide from my shoulder. “Crap, hey, can you hang on a second?” I toss the phone on my bed and turn toward the bassinet, lying Ivy down on her back, slowly sliding my hands out and pressing one to her chest when she stirs. I pause, making sure her arms go limp, and she’s fast asleep before stepping back.

I watch her for a few seconds, soaking in her sweet face, those puffy, pump cheeks. God, she’s perfect.

My hand reaches out, padding along the bedding to find my phone. “Sorry about that, had to lay the little princess down.” It takes me a minute to remember what I was telling her. “Oh, yeah, I’m a season ticket holder, which means I have access to all live performances now. Tomorrow, I’m going to drop Ivy back at her mom’s. I’ll spend the morning on the farm, come inside for lunch, and watch your performance. Maybe I’ll see if my brothers want to take a break. Have a little viewing party.”

“Are you really going to do that?” Her voice is soft, tentative, as if she’s not sure if I’m messing around with her.

“I’m really going to do that, Mags. I don’t always have time to watch them live, especially if I’m out in the fields. On those days, I catch the recorded version. But tonight, it’ll be live, and I’m excited.”

“That’s really sweet, Lukas.”

My heart thuds in my chest as I turn on the sound machine. The soft white noise used to keep me awake at night, but now, I think I rely on it just as much as Ivy does.

“You’ve really done something with yourself, Mags. I know I’ve said it before, but I can tell how much you’ve grown.”

“Thank you. I’m excited for tonight, for this performance. It’s my first time as Lady Camille.” She’s quiet for a beat. “I’m nervous for tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve felt nerves like this.”

“What’s making you nervous?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me.”

She exhales heavily. “It’s my first time in this role. It’s a performance that I love, that I think is really beautiful. It’s a popular ballet here, and … well, I guess, I don’t want to let anyone down.”