Page 21 of Every Time We Touch

“I’m just calling it as I see it.” Clancy walks up to me. “Do you want another round or are you done? There’s five minutes left. It’s up to you.”

“Let’s do it,” I say, because I’m not sure what’s going to keep me the sanest. Dancing or chatting with her. Neither, probably, but I’m here now, in her studio, so we might as well dance. Maybe exhausting my body will have an effect on my brain—although my brain doesn’t have a lot to do with how I’m feeling right now. It wouldn’t allow any of this madness. Because the more I dance with Clancy, the more⁠—

Oops. I misstep and we nearly topple over. Her leg hooks around mine and she has to throw her arms around my waist to catch me. As she does, for the first time, I feel how strong she actually is.

Once she’s made sure I’m fine, Clancy says, “Maybe we should call it a day.”

“I have a hard time admitting I’m tired sometimes,” I say, which is true. It’s the workaholic in me—the part of me that doesn’t know how to stop.

“Noted.” Clancy touches her hand gently to my shoulder. “Are you good?”

“Yeah.” It’s more a breath than a word. “Thanks.”

“Same time next week?” Clancy asks.

“Okay.” I suppress the urge to ask her whether she and my dad are exclusive yet. It’s not my business and it also shouldn’t make any difference. And I can ask Dad later. “Is there anything I can do to practice?”

“For tango, do lots of squats.” Oh no. She demonstrates one, her thighs flexing and her ass sticking out. “You need strong legs and a strong core.” She pushes herself up. “Strong arms as well.”

“Everything needs to be strong,” I say, very aware of how silly I sound.

“You’re working on it here, though, with me.” She shoots me a smile. “If you’re not planning on entering any competitions, your two hours a week with me are just fine.”

“No need to tell Marcy to start kicking my ass again.” I run the back of my hand across my forehead. “Phew.”

“Thanks for today. You’re a dream student,” Clancy says.

And you’re too much of a dream of a teacher, I think.

By the time Dad arrives at my place, I’ve cooled down—although I can’t get that damn lesbian song out of my head.

I pour him a whiskey and—what the hell—have one for myself as well.

We chitchat about my siblings for a bit and whereas I usually like being around my father, there’s an unease to me tonight that I can’t shake.

“Do you want to talk business?” Dad asks. “I can tell you’re nervous, Jen. It’s all going to be okay, you know.”

“Can I ask you something else first?” I am nervous. It’s ridiculous, which makes me even more on edge.

“Of course.” He leans back on the sofa, his hand cupped around his glass. I guess, as far as dads in their seventies go, he’s an okay-looking man, but Clancy is positively smoking hot. If I hadn’t seen them together, I would never believe they were an item. Although, wherever you go in LA, you see couples like my dad and Clancy—and the men are hardly ever as handsome as Eric St James.

“Is it serious with you and Clancy?” I ask, then take a quick sip.

“I sure hope so, but… it’s too early to tell, really.” Does he look smitten?

“Are you sure you’re ready for something serious again?”

“I don’t know. I’m just… I’m having fun. Clancy’s—” He puffs up his cheeks. “She’s quite something.”

Tell me about it.

“Are you seeing other people or…” While he’s my father, I honestly don’t believe this is any of my business. I certainly didn’t question my mother like this when she started dating Nora—maybe because I was hoping for that to last.

“I’m not, but I’m not sure I’m the only guy she’s seeing.”

Guy? What about women, I think.

“You don’t talk about that sort of stuff?”