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“Goodness gracious,” she says with a chuckle as Ivy finally steps back. “Somebody's excited.”

“I've been practicing,” Ivy announces proudly.

“I know you have.” Miss Hannah smooths a hand over Ivy's hair before looking up at Alexei and me. “Mr. Agapov. Maggie. It's good to see both of you.”

“It's good to see you too,” I tell her.

Miss Hannah's expression grows gentler as she glances down at Ivy. “I have to tell you, she's had a wonderful week. After everything that happened, I wasn't entirely sure how she'd do coming back.”

Alexei's arm immediately circles my waist.

Miss Hannah smiles warmly at Ivy. “But she's been wonderful. Happy. Focused. The old Ivy is finally coming back.”

Emotion swells so quickly inside my chest that I have to blink several times.

Ivy notices none of it. She's already talking again.

“I showed everybody pictures of Winston,” she says proudly. “Sophie says he's ugly, but I think she's wrong.”

Miss Hannah wisely declines to involve herself in elementary school politics.

“I think all my dancers need to head backstage,” she says instead, clapping her hands loudly. “Come on children. Let's get ready.”

A chorus of groans and protests erupts around us as children reluctantly begin saying goodbye to their parents.

I crouch in front of Ivy and straighten the sleeve of her sweater. “Listen to Miss Hannah.”

“I will,” Ivy promises, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No runnin’,” I continue.

“I know,” she says, drawing the words out.

“No cartwheels indoors.”

Ivy gasps and stares at me as though I've suggested canceling Christmas. “Maggie.”

I fight a smile. “I'm just checkin’.”

Beside me, Alexei lowers himself into a crouch and adjusts the sparkly headband perched on Ivy's head. The huge man handling pink sequins with such care still makes my heart do funny little things.

“You stay with your class,” he says, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

“I will, Papa.”

“At all times.”

“I know.”

His hand remains against her cheek for an extra breath before he finally lowers it. The gesture tugs at something inside me because he's been doing it all afternoon. A hand at her back. Fingers brushing her hair out of her face. Pulling her closer whenever she wanders more than a few feet away. It's subtle enough that Ivy doesn't notice, but I do.

I glance up at him, and he catches me watching. Neither of us says a word, yet somehow the silence says everything. Then Ivy hugs both of us fiercely before racing toward the backstage doors with the other dancers.

As soon as she disappears, the auditorium suddenly feels much too quiet.

“Well,” I say, slipping my hand into Alexei's as we walk toward the seating area, “look at us. Empty nesters.”

“We’ve been alone for approximately eight seconds,” he replies dryly.