Midway through our stroll, we passed a dance studio, West Side Steps. “Is this where Chloe is?” Genevieve had told Graham that Chloe had just started a new session of dance classes not too far from Serendipity 3.
“I don’t know.” We slowed, but the large glass front window was mirrored so no one could see in. After we passed, a woman’s voice called after us.
“Graham.” Turning back, we found Genevieve holding open the door to the dance studio.
“Genevieve.” Graham nodded. “You remember, Soraya.”
She flashed a practiced megawatt smile. “I do. How nice to see you.”
Sure, it is.
“Class doesn’t end for another twenty minutes. But you can watch through the viewing room. It’s one-way glass so she won’t see you watching her practice.” Graham looked to me, and I nodded.
Inside, the viewing room was filled with parents. Most sitting around and chatting, not even looking through the glass at the class on the other side. Graham hesitantly walked to the window. The room was filled with four- and five-year-old girls wearing ballet tutus. I searched for Chloe amongst the sea of pink. She would have stood out even if she weren’t the most adorable little girl in the room. Her outfit was neon green, where the other girls all wore pastels.
“She refuses to conform and wear what the other girls wear to class. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it.”
Graham just kept watching the little girl in fascination. “I’m hoping she doesn’t.”
Genevieve’s eyes narrowed on me. She was wearing a cream pants suit with a navy, silk camisole that was feminine, expensive and stylish, but certainly nothing you wouldn’t find on a dozen women in the Upper West Side at any time.
“This is a new class for her. She used to come on Tuesday nights while her father…” She realized what she had said and corrected herself. “While Liam went to the gym across the street. The last session ended a few weeks ago, and I thought it was best to switch to the weekend so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of the old routine.”
Graham nodded.
A pregnant woman came by. “You’re Chloe’s mom, right?”
“Yes.”
The woman’s hands had been folded on top of her enormous belly before she extended one to Genevieve. “I’m Anna’s mom, Catherine. Anna wouldn’t stop talking about Chloe last week after class. I thought maybe we could get the girls together sometime.”
“Sure. I’m certain Chloe would love that.”
Graham had been riveted to the glass, his eyes following Chloe’s every move, but he turned around to face Catherine.”
The woman smiled. “You must be Chloe’s dad. She’s the spitting image of you, isn’t she?”
Graham froze, staring at Genevieve.
Noncommittal, she introduced him. “Catherine, this is Graham Morgan.”
The woman extended her hand and looked to me since I was now facing her, too. “Are you the nanny?”
That snapped Graham out of it. He wrapped his hand around my waist possessively. “This is Soraya. My girlfriend.”
Graham didn’t notice, but Genevieve caught my eye, and hers sparkled with amusement. Bitch.
We slipped out before the class ended, not wanting Chloe to find us there, and told Genevieve we’d meet her at the restaurant.
Out on the street, the fresh air felt good. I could finally breathe better. “That woman does not like me.”
“She’s jealous of you. She’s always been insecure of her looks.”
“Her? She’s gorgeous.”
Graham stopped on the street. “She’s attractive, of course. But she’s ordinary. Unlike you.” He reached out and held my face with both hands. “You’re extraordinary.”
He was completely serious and the way he looked at me, the doubts that had again risen up inside of me were put to rest.
Chloe literally skipped into Serendipity 3 fifteen minutes later. She hadn’t changed out of her dance outfit, and it was impossible not to smile watching her. After a brief pause where Genevieve pointed to our table, she skipped the rest of the way to where we were seated. Graham stood.
“Chloe,” he nodded and smiled.
“Cracker.” She put all her weight behind her, reached back and slapped her hand into the air for Graham to high five. He was caught off guard, almost missing the hand connection. The exchange was comical. High-fiving was so…not Grahamly.
When he sat back down, I leaned in. “Cracker?”
He whispered back. “As in Graham. Apparently, I have a nickname.”