Chapter 14
Sarah
The apartment smelled like fresh paint and someone else’s life. Boxes stacked against walls that weren’t mine, secondhand furniture that didn’t quite fit the space, windows that looked out at a view I didn’t recognize yet.
“This is cozy,” Delia said—her polite way of calling the place a shoebox. She set down another box and looked around with forced optimism. “Very… intimate.”
“You can say it’s tiny. I won’t be offended.”
“Fine, it’s very tiny.” She walked to the window that overlooked a brick wall. “And the view is very… urban.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I can see directly into my neighbor’s kitchen.”
“Look at it this way—free cooking show every night.”
I laughed despite myself and started unpacking dishes. Leaving Hector’s penthouse had been harder than I expected, and not just because I was trading marble floors and city views for cracked linoleum and a radiator that clanked like it was trying to communicate in Morse code.
But because Lily had cried, tears streaming down her face while she’d asked why I had to go.
She’d been texting me pictures since I left this morning, each one a variation of her sad face with increasingly dramatic captions. “The house is too quiet.” “I miss you already.” “Why do you live so far away?”
It wasn’t far. Thirty minutes on the subway. But to an eight-year-old who’d just gotten her voice back and was using it to guilt trip me, it might as well have been another country.
I’d knelt down and taken her small hands in mine, trying to explain that sometimes people needed their own space. That this didn’t mean our sessions were ending, that I’d still see her three times a week.
“But why can’t you just stay forever?” Her voice had been so small, so genuinely confused. “We have lots of rooms. You could have any one you want.”
“I know, sweetheart. But I need to have my own place. Somewhere that’s just mine.”
“But I want you to stay.”
That had nearly broken me. I’d pulled her into a hug and promised her over and over that I wasn’t leaving her, just moving to a different building. That I’d still be there for all our sessions.
She’d made me pinky swear, linking her smallest finger with mine with such seriousness that I’d had to blink back my own tears.
Hector had watched the whole thing from the doorway. He hadn’t said much of anything, and when I’d thanked him for everything, for letting me stay, for helping with the loan sharks, for all of it, he’d only nodded and told me to call if I needed anything.
I’d wanted to say more. Wanted to tell him that the past few weeks in his home had been the safest I’d felt in years. But the words had stuck in my throat, and I’d left with just a simple goodbye.
“Earth to Sarah.” Delia waved a hand in front of my face. “You zoned out again.”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was saying your phone is ringing. Has been for like thirty seconds.”
I grabbed it off the counter. Colin’s name flashed across the screen. We hadn’t exactly left things well the last time we talked, when he’d wanted to come home and I’d pushed him away hard enough that he’d hung up angry.
I answered while trying to locate where I’d packed the can opener. “Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice was cautious, testing the waters. “You answered.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because last time we talked I was kind of a jerk about the whole not-coming-home thing.”
“You weren’t a jerk. You were hurt. There’s a difference.”
“Still. I’m sorry for hanging up on you.”
There was a crash from the other room, followed by Delia’s voice. “I’m fine! Just making contact with the floor!”
I moved toward the bedroom to check what she’d broken, and she was standing in a pile of packing peanuts that had exploded everywhere.
“What happened?”
“The box lied about its structural integrity.” She tried to kick the packing peanuts away but they just stuck to her socks.
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing at her grimace.
“Sarah?” Colin’s voice came through the phone. “You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was talking to Delia.”
“You sound different.” His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hope.
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Lighter, maybe? You’re actually laughing. I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh like that.”
Something in my chest loosened. “Things are better. A lot better, actually.”
“Yeah?” The relief in his voice was clear. “Tell me. What changed?”
“Everything, kind of. How’s London treating you?”
“Wet. It’s been raining for three days straight. I’m starting to think I imagined the sun.” The tension between us completely dissolving. “But my linguistics project is going well. Professor says my thesis might actually be publishable.”
“Colin, that’s amazing. I got a new place now. Delia’s here helping me unpack and being generally chaotic.”
“I can hear you!” Delia called from the other room.
Colin laughed. “Tell her I said hi. And that I appreciate her keeping you functional.”
“He says hi,” I relayed to Delia.
“Tell him I’m trying my best but his sister makes it difficult!”
We talked for another ten minutes, the conversation easy now. When we hung up, Delia was leaning against the doorframe.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just nice to see you smile like that. I don’t know what happened with you lately, but I hope it continues.”
I smiled at her. I was only this free because of Hector—a truth I wasn’t ready to look at too closely. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Would you be willing to come to the penthouse once a week? To work with Lily?” I rushed on before she could answer.
“I know you’re busy with your own studio, and I can’t pay you much right now, but I could figure something out.
I just think it would really help her, having consistent instruction from someone who actually knows what they’re doing. ”
Delia’s face had gone through several expressions during my rambling. Now she just gawked at me.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“You’re asking me to go to Hector Valdez’s penthouse. To teach ballet. In his actual home.”
“Yes?”
“Sarah.” She grabbed my shoulders. “Do you know who Hector Valdez is?”
“My boss?”
“Your boss, who is also one of the best chefs in Manhattan.”
I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “You’re being weird again.”
“You don’t get it—I’m passionate about food!””
She threw a pillow at me, and I caught it laughing.
Three days later, Delia showed up. When Lily spotted her, her whole face lit up.
“Remember Delia from the studio?” I said. “She’s going to teach you here now, at home. Is that okay?”
Lily nodded enthusiastically and did a little spin, showing off without even realizing it.
“Look at you!” Delia grinned. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you? I can tell. Come on, let’s find some space and see what you’ve got.”
We moved to the living room, and Delia started setting up her speaker. Gianna appeared with water bottles like she’d been summoned.
“Can I watch?” she asked.
“You can join,” Delia said. “Sarah too. Everyone’s dancing.”
“Absolutely not.” I backed toward the couch. “I’m here for moral support.”
“Get over here, Tinsley. You move like you’ve got boards strapped to your spine.”
Lily giggled and grabbed my hand, tugging me toward where Delia was stretching. Gianna was already taking off her shoes.
Delia started with basic stretches, building on what Lily had learned at the studio. She was patient, encouraging, praising Lily’s improved form while gently adjusting her positions.
“Sarah, your posture. You’re doing that slouching thing again.”
I straightened my back and tried to follow along.
“Gianna, those toes need to actually point.”
“I am pointing!”
“You’re bending your foot at a weird angle. That’s not the same thing. Try again.”
“This is harder than it looks.”
“Everything worth doing is hard. Again.”
Lily was laughing now, clearly enjoying watching us struggle with movements she was starting to master. We moved through positions, Delia keeping it fun while still teaching proper technique.
“My legs are going to fall off,” Gianna groaned after the tenth plié.
“They’re not. You’re just discovering muscles you forgot existed. Watch Lily. See how she’s doing it? Learn from the eight-year-old.”
“The eight-year-old is naturally graceful. I’m naturally clumsy.”
“Everyone’s clumsy until they practice. Again.”
I caught movement and turned to see Hector standing in the hallway entrance. He was watching us, hands in his pockets, and I wondered how long he’d been standing there in the doorway like a ghost I’d accidentally summoned.
Our eyes met—and held, longer than made sense.
For a second, maybe two, neither of us moved. He stood there in the shadows of the hallway, and I stood in the bright living room attempting ballet in my socks.
My cheeks heated. I waved awkwardly.
He lifted his hand in response, then touched the back of his neck. The gesture looked almost adorable, like he’d been caught observing something private.
“Is that Mr. Valdez?” Delia whispered—loudly enough that it wasn’t a whisper at all.
“Don’t make it weird.”
Gianna’s face lit up with mischief. “You know what would be fun? If Mr. Valdez joined us.”
“Hell will freeze over first,” I muttered, glancing back—but Hector had already vanished down the hallway like he’d sensed danger.
Delia got us back on track.
Lily practiced with more confidence, and watching her move with that much joy made every awkward stretch worth it.
During a water break, I grabbed my water bottle and noticed Delia standing near the window with her phone pressed to her ear. She stood turned away from us, shoulders tight—a posture that was very un-Delia.
I watched as she lowered the phone, stared at the screen for a moment, then lifted it back to her ear. Waited. Lowered it again with a sigh.
“You okay?” I asked, moving closer.
“Yeah. Fine.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, but her usual brightness was dimmed.
“Delia.”
“What?”
“You’re never this quiet unless something’s wrong.”