“How is Sawyer?” he asked gently.
I curled up on my loveseat, making myself into a ball. “Not good. He’s fighting for custody of Olivia and I’m scared he’s not going to win.”
“God, that’s awful. And what about you two?”
“There isn’t much to say,” I said. “I don’t want to add to his problems.”
“Darlene…”
“No, I mean that honestly. He has so much to contend with right now. I don’t want to pressure him and I told him if he needed me, I’d be there.”
“Sawyer the Lawyer, in the brief moments of our acquaintance, didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who goes around asking for help or comfort when he needs it.”
“Maybe not,” I said softly. “And he definitely doesn’t want it from me.”
The week felt as slow as the weekend, and yet was rushing up to meet me at the same time. Saturday was opening night. On Thursday, we rehearsed in the actual theater space for the first time. My heart sank a little at the shabby little place—the Brown Bag Theatre—with black walls and floors that needed paint, and fifty seats facing a tiny stage.
But my fellow dance troupers were getting excited. Anne-Marie was bringing a bunch of people, apparently.
“Who’s coming to see you?” Paula asked as we cleared out after dress rehearsal.
“Oh, it’s bad timing for me all around,” I said with a small laugh. “My family is in New York and can’t get over here, and my best friend upped and moved to Seattle on me, the bastard.”
I realized then, that my other best friends, Zelda and Beckett, would’ve dropped everything to fly out and see me, but I never asked. It had felt like too much. Now that I had begun to grow some semblance of a backbone, it was too late.
Paula gave me a gentle smile. “That’s too bad,” she said, and leaned in to whisper, “You’re the best part of this thing.”
I watched her go and stood in the black box, alone.
“If a dancer dances for the first time in four years and no one sees it, did she actually dance?” I murmured under my breath.
I wiped a tear away. I should’ve called Zelda and Becks, but I was too scared of coming off as weak and needy. Again. But I did need them, and I realized—too late—that being with the people who love you isn’t weak. It’s how you stay strong.
“See, Max?” I sniffed. “I still have a long way to go.”
Back home, I showered, changed, and set about to make another tuna casserole. It was the only thing I could think to do and I had to do something. Sawyer’s hearing was tomorrow, and Max’s words about him never asking for help wouldn’t leave my head. I could drop off the casserole and let him decide if he wanted my company.
A knock came at the door just as I was pulling the finished casserole from the oven. My pulse fluttered, and I took the oven mitts off my shaking hands.
But it was Jackson at my door, looking casually elegant as usual, in slacks and a dark sweater over a blue dress shirt. His handsome features were drawn together with worry and his dark eyes were heavy.
“What happened?” I blurted, my pulse hammering in my chest.
“Nothing yet,” Jackson said. “Can I come in? I told him I was stepping out to make a phone call.”
I blinked, shook my head. “Sorry, yes. Come in.”
Jackson was at least six-feet-three and seemed like a towering presence in my small space. I was suddenly glad Sawyer had this imposing and charismatic guy on his side.
“Would you like anything? Something to drink?”
Jackson shook his head.
I braced myself. “The paternity test…?”
“He and Olivia took it on Monday. The results are sealed until tomorrow at the hearing. Unless there’s been a miracle of science since he took the first test, it’s not going to go well.”
I sagged against the counter. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.” I waved a hand at the pan. “I made a casserole…”