know.” And she did. Really. For her, ballet wasn’t about the bright lights, the elaborate costumes or the thundering applause. It was about the dancing, pure and simple. Something she’d done each day, every day since she was just a few years older than her niece. And if she didn’t have that...
She pasted on a smile. Things were treading dangerously close to The Turning Point territory. Accentuate the positive, her mother always said. “I’m off the crutches.”
“That’s a good sign, right?”
“So they say. I’m putting weight on it. Even rode the stationary bike today.” She conveniently left out the fact that she’d practically passed out afterward.
“If anyone can come back from this, you can,” Holly insisted. “I’ve never known anyone as fearless as you, especially when it comes to your dancing. Remember how you convinced Mom and Dad to let you take the subway into New York for lessons? Alone? At thirteen?”
“It helped that I was the baby. By the time I was a teenager, you, Gabe and Ivy had already broken them down.”
“Down.” A tiny toddler voice echoed through the computer’s tinny speakers. “Down.”
“Nick,” Holly called, struggling to hold on to her fidgety daughter. “Can you come and take Joy?”
A second later the handsome face of Holly’s movie-star husband appeared over her shoulder. “Hey, Noelle. Fighting the good fight?”
Noelle nodded. “Always.”
“Here.” Holly placed Joy into Nick’s waiting arms, her nose wrinkling. “I think she needs a fresh diaper.”
“I got this.” He hoisted Joy into the crook of one arm and looked straight into the camera. “Hang tough, sis. We’re all rooting for you.”
“Thanks, bro. See you at Thanksgiving?”
“If not before. Enjoy your girl chat.”
He bent to place a quick, tender kiss on Holly’s forehead, and not for the first time Noelle felt a pang of longing for all she’d sacrificed at the altar of ballet. Home. Husband. Kids. She couldn’t even have a pet, for Christopher’s sake. She’d tried once—a Yorkie she named Sous-Sus—and it had been a total disaster. Traveling with a dog, even a small one, had turned out to be a logistical nightmare. How Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift managed it was beyond her. She’d wound up giving Sous-Sus to her hairstylist, who was lucky enough to have a rent-controlled apartment within spitting distance of Central Park.
“Come on, pumpkin.” Nick’s voice brought her back to the present and the computer screen. He had shifted his attention to his daughter, tweaking her button nose. “We’ve got a diaper to change.”
They disappeared from view, leaving Holly alone on the screen. “Now that it’s just us gals over legal age, how about we talk about something more fun. Like boys.”
“You’re trying to take my mind off the fact that I’m basically an unemployed invalid for the next who-knows-how-many months.”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.” Noelle flexed her feet and grimaced, even that tiny motion straining her overtired knee. “Besides, there’s not much in the way of prime man meat around this place.”
“Liar.”
“I am not lying.”
“Are, too.” Holly crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You’ve got a tell.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time you lie, you tilt your head to one side. Usually the right. How do you think Mom knew you were the one who borrowed—” she put the word in air quotes “—her cashmere sweater and put it back with a huge stain on the sleeve?”
“I figured you told her.”
“So who is he?” Holly asked, refusing to be diverted. “Is he hot? I need the dirty deets.”
“You’re married to People’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
“And we have a toddler who doesn’t like to sleep in her own bed. I have to live vicariously through you, at least until we get through the terrible twos.”
Noelle snickered. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but he’s definitely not into me.”
Not after she’d humiliated herself not once but twice by bursting in on him. And then been a total biatch to him on the bike.
“Ah ha!” Holly snapped her fingers. “So there is a he.”
Oops. And people thought Gabe was the master of cross-examination. Poor Joy didn’t stand a chance of getting away with anything as a teenager.
“Don’t get excited. We’re more like squabbling siblings than star-crossed lovers.”
“Who is he?”
“Some hotshot baseball player. Jace something-or-another.”
“Jace Monroe?” Holly squealed. “Oh my God, he’s totally gorgeous, if you go for the whole tatted-up, boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks thing. Which you do.”
“How do you even know who he is?” Noelle rolled her eyes. “You hate baseball.”
“Nick’s a huge Storm fan from his time in California. He watches all their games on the MLB network.” Holly reached out of the frame to grab a Diet Coke. “But this conversation isn’t about me and Nick. It’s about you and Jace. What makes you think he’s not into you?”
Noelle propped up the pillow behind her and leaned back against the headboard, juggling the computer on her lap so she stayed on camera. “You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
While Holly sipped her soda, Noelle spilled the whole, sordid story, from interrupting what she thought was a sexual encounter to the love doll incident, ending with how she’d given him the cold shoulder in the gym that morning. When she finished, Holly clucked her tongue.
“You need a do-over. Apologize to him again. And get it right this time.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“So what are you waiting for? Hang up and say you’re sorry to that beautiful hunk of man.”
“I’m afraid of what I might walk in on.” Noelle laughed a little too loud, trying to hide the fact that her words had conjured images of Jace in all kinds of compromising—and mostly naked—positions. “I don’t exactly have the best track record where he’s concerned.”
“Aha,” Holly nodded and her lips curved knowingly. “Now I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“No, I won’t.” Noelle smacked a palm down on the bedside table. “I can’t afford to get sidetracked by some charmer in a muscle tee and athletic shorts. I’m fighting for my career here, Hols.”
“What good’s a career without someone to come home to?”
“I’m not looking for a life partner. I’ve got all I can handle right now.”
“Okay, then. Who says he has to be Mr. Right? What’s wrong with Mr. Right Now? You’re young. Let loose. Live a little.” A baby’s cry made Holly startle, and she sighed. “I’ve gotta go. Nick’s a magician with his hands, but give him a diaper and he falls apart.”
“TMI, big sis. TMI.”
Holly chuckled. “Think about what I said. And call me when you and Mr. MVP kiss and make up.”
“We’re not going to...”
But Holly’s