Page 89 of A Sinful Gravity

In the living room, Cassian sat on the floor with Laila across from him. Between them was a pile of blocks, scattered everywhere. Laila held a long rectangular piece, balancing it on top.

"See? This way it won't fall!"

Cassian studied it seriously, nodding. "So that's how it works."

"Of course! Pay attention and stop knocking it over!"

"Okay, I'm learning."

Sunlight poured through the windows, bathing them both. Laila's golden curls gleamed, and so did Cassian's hair. They bent their heads together over the blocks, glancing up at each other now and then, laughing.

I leaned against the banister, watching. Something bumped softly against my chest.

Moving in here over a week ago—the days had been unexpectedly full. Rehearsals during the day, home at night. Sometimes I got back early enough to eat dinner with Laila. On days off, Chloe and I would take Laila out.

Cassian was always there.

Maybe cooking in the kitchen, maybe playing with Laila, or just sitting on the couch reading. When I came home, he'd look up and say, "You're back?" Then he'd go on with whatever he was doing.

Not too warm, not cold. Keeping a distance that felt comfortable.

Every few days, we'd eat dinner together. His cooking had gotten damn good.

And then... those nights. Sometimes he'd come to my bedroom.

He'd kiss me gently, every touch careful, like I might break. And I'd get so wet under his hands. I knew my body had been craving him all along.

This arrangement satisfied me. It also made me uneasy. Late at night when I couldn't sleep, I'd watch Cassian's sleeping profile and feel a nameless dread rising—was I falling back in? Was I making the same mistake again?

That fear was a thorn, stuck in my heart. During the day I could ignore it, but in the quiet dark it would surface, sharp and hurting.

But I stayed. For Laila. And for... myself.

I took a breath and walked over.

Laila rushed at me. "Mommy's up! Let's eat together!"

Cassian looked up, his eyes warm. "Breakfast is ready. On the table."

I ruffled Laila's hair and nodded without saying much. She dragged me to the dining table where the nutritionist's spread waited—scrambled eggs, bacon, blueberry pancakes, and hot milk. She climbed into her chair and attacked the pancakes, getting cream all over her mouth.

After breakfast, I kissed Laila goodbye. Then I headed out for today's rehearsal and performance.

The show was tonight. I changed into my practice clothes and started warming up. Stretching, spinning, leaping. By the end of the routine my body was hot and my mind was quiet. I loved these dancing hours.

Darkness fell quickly. Soon it was showtime.

When the curtain rose, I stood at the edge of the stage, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

Tonight I was on fire. I danced with total focus, every turn solid, every expression precise. I channeled all my tangled emotions into stage presence. Until the lights dimmed and the music faded and I collapsed on the stage, eyes closed.

Silence.

Then applause exploded.

I stood, walked to the front. Bowed, bowed again. Flowers came up and I smiled, reaching out.

During curtain call, I saw Amy on her feet clapping wildly, her face radiating that "she's mine" kind of pride.