My mom comes in and sees the flowers and looks at me suspiciously.

“They’re beautiful, right?” I ask.

“Yes. Who are they from?”

“MB, so it’s either Madison or Memphis.”

“Memphis Black?” She looks at me strangely, and I nod. “Be careful, Tallia. He lives in a much different world, honey.”

A week passes, and the dance tour company hands out the travel schedule as we leave rehearsal. It’s more than seventy-five percent West Coast cities. My knee-jerk reaction is to take a picture of it and text it to Madison, but right now, I have thirteen seven-year-olds who love ballet stretching and waiting for their class to start. They make my day brighter for sure. They actually make three days a week brighter, and they are my absolute favorite class to teach.

The hour flies by and ends with a circle, all holding hands, all smiling, and all ready and excited for the next day.

The last part of my day is my least favorite class, but it pays well. It’s also three days a week, and an adult aerobic-dance class.

Nine hours of dance today, and I am exhausted. Exhaustion is something I welcome with open arms, though.

I walk out and punch the code to lock up for the night.

“Tallia?”

I look back to see where the raspy voice is coming from and see a blonde woman. She’s beautiful, standing in front of a black town car.

“Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so. I’ve been watching you for the past couple days. Two of my dancers take your class. You’re phenomenal.”  She steps forward and extends her hand; I shake it.

“Thank you.”

“One of my dancers fell and fractured her ankle during a practice last week. They mentioned you may be a perfect match to do a gig for a month, more if we mesh.”

“Sounds intriguing, but I am already part of a dance team, and we’re touring for three months.”

“I’m not gonna beat around the bush here, but I do my homework. I know what they pay, and I can double it.”

I look at her skeptically. “Nothing illegal?”

She smiles, which puts me at ease. “This isn’t normal for me. I don’t go looking for the talent, but when they talked you up, I had to make an exception. One month, double pay. Google me: I manage a band. When you see who I am, I know you’ll want in. It’s a good gig.” She hands me a card. “Give Jane a call; I need a decision tomorrow. If you don’t want in, I need to find someone fast.”

I take the card. “Thank you.”

“Double the pay, five hour days, and a fifteen hundred dollar bonus”—she looks down at my beat-up dance shoes hanging from my gym bag —“and I’ll throw in a decent pair of shoes.”

I start to walk away.

“Tallia?”

“Yes,” I say, turning around.

“I don’t need this getting out. There are people who love to talk shit about me, and I require anyone who works for me to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“Understood.”

I finally make it home, thinking how nice it would be to buy a car and avoid the train. I normally don’t mind, but the three days a week that are long days kill me.

Mom is asleep. She has a long weekend planned with her church group. She seems happy now. She is smiling again, spreading sunshine.

I hear a light knock on the door as I smell the flowers. I walk over and look through the peephole.

My heart skips a beat and then another. He looks beautiful … And now he’s running his hands through his hair and turning around.

Quickly, I unlock the chain then the deadbolt, and I open the door.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to act like I am over-the-moon to see him. He turns around.

“Hey, back,” he says, looking down.

“Do you want to come in?” Dear God, he is beautiful even in cargo shorts, a tee shirt and that beanie.

“No.” He shakes his head slowly and then finally looks at me.

“Did you come to tell me you hate me?” My voice betrays me, showing the pain from the thought. He looks at me like I’m crazy, which makes me feel stupid. “’Cause you could have just sent a text.” I step out in the hall.

He sighs. “Did you get the flowers?”

“They are so beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so, so much.” This is a good sign, right?

“They still alive?” His nose scrunches up as he runs his hand over his black beanie.

“Yeah.”

He starts to take a step forward then stops himself. “They smell good, Tales?”

“You can come in and—”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. He looks in my eyes and groans then slowly grazes down my body with his eyes, and I feel my nipples strain against my leotard. “Tales?”

“Yes?” I say as I step back against the wall, seeking its cool comfort on my very warm body.

“I’m gonna be touring for a long time.” He may as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on me.

I open my eyes and look at him as I cross my arms in front of me.

He smirks, noticing the change in my demeanor. “You still gonna be here when I get back?”

“Is this where you want me to be, Memphis?” I feel my lip quiver. “Here?”

“Tales.”

“Have you forgiven me yet?”

“Yeah. Have you forgiven yourself?” I shake my head. “His death wasn’t your fault,” he tries to tell me.

I blow upward, trying to cool my eyes to stop the tears, to keep myself together. I don’t want to push him away by acting too needy.

Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “How is Madison?”

“Busy.” He chuckles. “We put her on travel detail.”

“Travel?”

“Find hotels, and book flights to tour cities. She works about thirty hours.”

“Will she travel with you?” I ask.

“Does she have to?”

I give him a confused look, suddenly feeling insecure, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Will you feel more comfortable if your best friend is hanging out with your … me?”

“Is she still my best friend? I mean—” I am all emotion right now and I don’t like it. I push myself back against the wall, wishing I could sink into it so I don’t reach out to him. All I want to do is hang on to him, any part of him.

“Damn, Tales.”

“I miss her. I miss you. I miss—” I finally admit.

“I miss you, too, but we have another three weeks before—”

“Three weeks?”

“I’m healing.” When I look at him without expression, he says, “The fucking dolphin prince needs to just chill the hell out for—”

“Your penis piercing?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he whispers back mockingly.

“Because of that … thing.”

“The Great and Powerful Oz?”

My jaw drops, and I have to cover my mouth so I don’t wake the entire building with my laughing.

He smirks. “Tales, you don’t laugh when a dude talks about his dick.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I don’t know. I’d like you and me to figure it out together.”

“Together?”

He looks around as if he’s lost something. “Were you not the one I nailed under the stairs? Do you have a fucking doppelganger? If you do, before I make any sort of commitment, I really want the three of us to get together at least once.”

“You still want me?” my voice squeaks with excitement and emotion.

He smiles and nods. “Yeah, Tales.”

I walk up and hug him, taking care not to push against him. “Does it hurt?”

He wraps his arms around me, returning the hug. “What?”

“When you’re hard?” I whisper in his ear.

“Wow. Shit, apparently not. It’s gonna when I can’t be up in you, though.” He grinds against me.

“Why did you do it?” I ask as his nose runs across my hair, and he inhales.

He pulls back to look me in the eye. “I was pissed at you, pissed enough that I was afraid, if I went on tour, I would fuck whatever I could to feel something other than angry for a while.”

“You were going to have sex with the—”

“Gaggle of groupies,” he confirms with a nod, “until I stopped feeling sorry for myself and realized I’m not just Forever Steel. I’m kind of forever Tales, too.”

I look up at him, wishing, hoping. I know I’m pleading with my eyes for him to tell me what I desperately want to hear from him.