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Eventually, I leaned back in the chair and stretched. Every muscle in my shoulders protested. I glanced at the clock.
Shit.
It was later than I thought. For a moment, hope surfaced. Maybe Kinsley was already gone. If she was, then Isabella would be, too. I wasn’t in the mood for questions. Or concerned looks. Or another lecture about my behavior. I shut the laptop and stepped into the hallway.
The dance studio had mostly emptied. Kinsley stood near the front desk, gathering her things. Her bag hung from one shoulder. She was stuffing papers into it with far more force than necessary.
Damn. She spotted me immediately.
“Studio A is ready for tomorrow’s class. I’m going to see if Isabella is ready to go.” Then softer, she asked, “Will you be home for dinner?”
“No.”
“Okay, what time will you be home?”
“Late.”
The answer came out flat. I turned away, hoping she’d take the hint. Home wasn’t the same now. My mind drifted to how absolutely feral my pretty princess had been the last time we fucked.
For the three and a half weeks we’d been home, Isabella and I had found several meeting spots around the house, away from prying eyes. Being there now was sheer torture.
My mind couldn’t see anything but me taking her up against the wall in the bathroom in the pool house. Us fucking hard in the library where Tori almost caught us.
The two of us meeting in the kitchen late after everyone had gone to bed. Hell, her studio. The laundry room. The back stairwell no one used. In the fucking Bentely.
What my ass needed was an escape. A distraction. Instead, I got Kinsley’s voice. It came from somewhere miles away, a muffled sequence of syllables drifting over the studio’s cooling fans until finally I shook my head to clear it.
“I thought maybe… I asked Izzy earlier, but is everything okay between you two?”
Izzy.
The name hit like an ice-water plunge.
Don’t react. Keep it cool.
My hands, which had been loosely hanging at my sides, gripped the edge of the front desk until my knuckles turned white. I blinked, the blurry reflection of the mirrors suddenly snapping into terrifyingly sharp focus.
I forced my eyes up to meet Kinsley’s, my heart hammering against my ribs, praying the raw panic bleeding into my face hadn’t already given everything away.
“Mouse, nothing happened. It’s like I said earlier. I just need some space from…” I palmed the back of my head and let the words drift off.
“That stupid word again. Stop deflecting. I can see you’re hurting. It’s in your eyes. Don’t lie to me, please.”
I panicked. “Look. I’m still processing everything. My best friend was sleeping with my fiancé at one time.”
Wow, that’s where your mind went, huh?
“I thought you were over her?”
“I am. It’s complicated, Mouse. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“So all of this is about Hannah? Not Isabella?”
“It’s the realization of how much time I wasted on Hannah. And as far as Isabella goes, if something is wrong with her, that’s not on me. You should ask her if you’re concerned.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Immediately, I regretted it. Kinsley’s face fell. A tiny fracture. Just enough to drive the guilt home. Then there was a flicker of disappointment.
“I did. She said you two weren’t good for one another.”
