The end of our day comes quicker than I expect, but slower than I need.

I'm not supposed to attend the late rehearsal tonight which means supper and time to enjoy the daylight are upon me and, if I can find him, Rafael.

Thankfully, I'm smart enough to go to my bag and throw on my now-dry leg warmers, slipping my phone out of my bag to check for a message from Rafa.

There's three.

But I can't open them while people are still in the room in case the sick was a lie, which I think it must have been, given the time it took for whatever this was to happen.

Finally, the studio clears, and I click on his name.

Some type of anxiety hitting me right now. I'll be fine. Go shine like a star.

A few minutes later, he'd hit me with an, I just didn't want you to worry if they told you I'm sick. I don't need people to see me like this on day two.

Why does this feel like it also isn't the whole truth? I scroll to the third message.

Also, my grandma called.

Oh, no. I race out of the room, stabbing my finger into the phone to call Rafael. It rings and I crash through the studio doors into the hallway.

"Pick up pick up pick up," I whisper to myself, racing down the hallway to the men's dressing rooms. "Rafael, where are you?"

"He left."

I whip around to face the source of the voice. Of course it's Amandine.

"I mean Rafael," she offers, super unhelpfully. "He left. He isn't here. I know because I've been trying to track him down to discuss our partnership since rehearsal let out and one of the guys in there said he'd already gone home."

Just then, the call connects and Rafa greets me with a gruff, "Hey," which I can hear faintly through the door.

"I'm standing outside the dressing rooms with Amandine who says you've already gone home," I say simply. "Should I meet you there?"

"Uhh..." He's quieter this time, as I can't hear it through the door.

"I think I understand," I say into the phone. "Take care of yourself until I see you."

I'm so proud of myself for not letting Amandine know Rafa's still hiding out in the dressing room that I almost don't notice she's staring at me with her eyes narrowed.

"What?" I ask, ending the call and slipping my phone into my bag.

"You'll meet him at his house?"

"He doesn't have a house yet," I answer without answering. "But yeah I'm going to make sure he's okay."

I resist the urge to say 'we're best friends,' as a reason, because that would give her more ammunition than she needs when I finally figure out this whole marriage law situation.

She stands there for a second, hand on her hip and bag in her hand. "Can you give him my number?" she asks, handing me a business card. I didn't know people still did that these days.

"I can." I take it from her with a small nod and an attempted smile that I'm sure looks like a grimace. But I will give it to him. I'm not out to damage Rafael's career.

I'm not going to be happy about it, but I'll make sure he gets it.

"Can you just let him know what's going on? Maybe help him catch up when he's feeling better? Or I can, whatever."

"Yeah." I nod and force out an actual smile this time. "I'll do whatever I can so he's ready."

"Thanks," she says. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

And then she's gone. I still don't like her or anything, and I'm pretty sure she'd gladly rub her success with Rafael in my face, but she's grown up since we knew each other in the academy.

I sit down against the wall and pull out my phone again. Amandine is gone. I'm waiting for you here. If you actually already left, please tell me so I know where to go.

I don't close the conversation, just set my phone down on the floor and begin removing the pointe shoes I've had no time to take off.

I'm here, he sends in reply. And then, I'm not doing great.

I press the green button to dial his cell again, removing the other pointe shoe while it rings.

It's still ringing and both my shoes are off and in my bag.

I zip it up.

Still ringing.

And then, just as I'm about to go bang down the door of the dressing room with no regard for who I might see in what state of undress, his voice greets me. "Hey, Pipes."

"Is he okay?"

"No," he says with a sniffle. And I don't hear anything else, because I push through the doors to the men's dressing room and don't even stop to assess where he might be, I just turn down the first row I see, scanning all of the chairs. He's not there. But when I round the corner at the end I find him, huddled in the corner beside what appears to be his station. It is the exact mirror location to mine, and I kinda like that for us.

I don't say anything at all and he doesn't either. I just pull him into a hug and let him squeeze the happiness out of me until he feels whole. I'm an endless well of happiness these days. I have plenty to spare.

"He's forgetting us, Piper," he says, face still buried in my shirt.

"Do you want to go home?" I ask, not knowing what I'll do if he does.

"No," he answers, drying his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, I'm meant to be here. Nothing would make him more proud than knowing I was following my dream with you by my side. Pops always loved you."

"I'm pretty sure he still does," I joke. "I'm pretty unforgettable."

I mean it as a joke to lighten the mood, but he looks at me with such intensity, our whole lives flashing in his eyes. "You are," he agrees. "You are definitely unforgettable."

He seems a little happier, though, so I break the tension. "What do you say we go get me packed up, grab some groceries, and head over to the new place. I'll make you dinner. We can just relax. And then I'll sneak you in to sleep like I did when we were twelve and you were about to marry what was her name? Suzan?"

"I can't believe you don't remember my third wife's name right now," he jokes. "Do you even know me at all?"

I don't know how to answer that, just looking down at my hands.

"Piper?" He uses his thumb to bring my chin up so my eyes meet his.

"Rafael?" I don't look away, even as his hand retreats.

"Can we just go have some fun and take some pictures and talk about that time Pops smuggled us into the 14A movie when we were about to head to Paris for school?"

"I'd love to," I say, pulling myself to my feet and reaching down to help him up.

"Good, because me too."

"You know what I think?" I ask when he's up on his feet. "I think your pops would want us to make some zany bread."

"You know what?" His eyes glisten with a joyful sparkle. "I think he would."

I thread my arm through his and pick up his long-ago packed bag. "I know he would. Remember when this all started?"

He flinches.

"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I just mean, he used to say to me, 'Piper, you make sure our boy keeps living, even after I'm gone. You make sure he loves his life just as much as I love him.'"

"He said what?"

"He told me, no matter what, you were to dance and be joyful. He told me, when he goes, which hopefully won't be for a really long time, that your parents and aunts and uncles are going to be super dull," I pause for him to stop laughing. "That's a direct quote, by the way."

"I believe it," he says, wrapping me in his arm and pushing the door open so we can step into the hallway.

"And he said, no matter how much anyone hates me or threatens to throw me out, if I don't dance and laugh at his funeral, he is going to ... how did he put it? Oh, right. He's going to haunt me for no less than a thousand years."

Rafael is laughing now, tears rolling down his face from joy or sadness, I'm not sure.

"I promised him then and I promise you now, even if they throw me out doing it, I will be there when it happens. And I will dance. And I will laugh. Because it's what he wanted," I say, wrapping my own arm around Rafa's waist. "Because it's what he wants for you."

"That sounds like pops," he replies, bending down to pick up my bag and then leading me out of the building.

"He's still here, Rafa, no matter what's going on or how much he can tell us. He still loves you."

"I know," he says through a pained smile. "It's just hard not being with him."

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" I ask, because I need to be sure.

"I don't think he'd want me to go home," he says finally.

"I think you're right," I agree.

"You know what I think?" Rafael says as we step onto the metro platform.

"What?"

"I think he'd want me to dance."

I smile as the train doors open and the crowd pushes us onto the train. "I think so, too."

We're silent as the whispered conversations of other commuters continue around us. We get to our stop and make it all the way to the hotel room before reality sinks in.

"I'm leaving," I whisper, staring at my nearly packed bags and my nicely made bed.

"I know," he says, dropping his own bag at the foot of the bed. "But it won't be long before I'm annoying you there, too."

"Yeah," I agree, even though I know it might be a very long time before he's annoying me there. Thirty days is an awfully long time to be without my best friend.

"Well, let's get going," I say, standing up and zipping my bag. "We'll throw all of this into my duffel and head out."

"We can take a second to pack," he laughs.

"No way!" I push his hand out of my way and finish pulling the zipper closed. "I promised someone dinner and..."

I don't have to finish. "It takes you forever to even cut vegetables. If I say I desperately want to have time to take some pictures, will you let me help with the chopping?"

"Snack first. Pictures second. Dinner third." I grab an arm full of my dirty laundry and shove it into my duffel bag. "But you aren't helping me. I'm making you dinner whether you like it or not."

"I do like it," he says with a smile. "I just don't know if I can wait for it."

"Patience is a virtue, my mother likes to say."

"Yes. And you like to tell her it's a virtue you don't possess."

"Doesn't mean you can't." He doesn't move as I make my way over to the door. "Let's go, Rafael. We don't need to make this harder than it will be."

"It's just... Nevermind. Let's go."

It's just what, Rafael? But he's smiling like I haven't seen him in a while, and there's no way I'm wrecking that. I'll ask him later.

"Oh," I say, stopping at the door and pulling Amandine's card out of my purse. "Your partner asked me to give you her number so she can inform you that you're understudying my role with Maxence. She's also asked that I please help you catch up anything you might have missed due to your, umm, illness."

"How kind of you to offer to help me," he says, holding the door open and picking up one of my bags.

"You mean that?"

"I'm not sure. Let's see how well we do first, shall we?"

"You'd never drop me," I say with a smile.

"Never when it matters," he says, pushing me out into the hallway and letting the door close on my old life. Now it's time to move on to the next part.

My own apartment.

We are not going to think about my future status as a wife.

Except now I'm thinking about it.

This is going to be a long night. 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~ 

Hey friends! I'm enjoying this story and these characters so much and I can't wait to keep writing about them. . . but I'm going to have to. All four of my other novellas made it through the second round of ONC which means I'm going to take a couple weeks to polish those up and get all the chaters out and, so I don't overwhelm anyone (including myself), I'm going to take a little break on other things. I anticipate this will be a three or four week break and then I'll be back to regular updates. But who knows? Sometimes I do silly things like write when I'm not supposed to 😅 So, I guess, see you over on my ONC entries or in a few weeks back here. I've written the first draft of the wedding scene already and you guys are gonna love it 😘