I’d told Arlene that I’d take a few days off in September to go back to Slovenia—with Seth, I hoped. I’d also reminded her that I needed a week off in December when I’d be heading to Chicago to work on rehearsals for the new
Slave
tour, but that was still months away. I’d planned on staying in Chicago after that, but Arlene had offered me more money to stay longer, taking on some of the Dance Captain role, to take the load off of Kathryn. I could give her January as well, but that was all.
I didn’t know what plans Sarah had. She’d been pretty vague in her emails for the last few weeks, so all I knew was that she’d probably be home soon—I just didn’t know when exactly. Ash had emailed me to ask if I’d heard from her because she hadn’t replied to his messages, but there wasn’t much I could tell him. Although it wasn’t that unusual—we communicated better with our bodies than with words. I’d seen her photos on IG—it looked as though she was having fun. There were a few of her ex-boyfriend James, as well. Maybe they’d gotten back together and she was having second thoughts about coming home to London. Maybe she’d stay in Australia until rehearsals started.
Seth said he’d had a couple of emails from her and she’d tagged him in some pictures on Facebook. I didn’t do social media—too many weirdos.
But as of tomorrow, I was moving in with Seth, and I was looking forward to it. I’d been pretty much living with him anyway, taking care of Michael when Seth was away with work. We hadn’t discussed what was going to happen next year. I’d be touring in the U.S. for at least six months, and there was a possibility that Seth would be sent back to Hong Kong. Both scenarios meant we’d be a world apart.
But right now, things were really good with us. I was almost afraid to look too far ahead—some stupid superstition that I couldn’t shake, that expecting good fortune would chase it away. Probably my Bosnian grandmother and her grisly nighttime stories that definitely weren’t for children.
I smiled at the thought of my
babica
, who still dressed in the traditional folklore costumes on holidays.
I hoped that Seth might take a vacation before I headed back to the States. I still wanted to take him to Slovenia with me to meet her, but so far, he hadn’t been able to commit to a date. I didn’t care about the rest of my family, but
moja babica
was special. She was also the only person in my family who wouldn’t care that the significant person in my life was another man. Well, my little sister, Lea, would be cool about it, but she was wrapped up in her Freshman year at college and we weren’t that close.
I stared up at the flat blue sky, placid and still, completely smooth without a single cloud. A swim at the outdoor pool in Holborn and lounging around in St. James’ Park working on my tan sounded like a perfect way to spend the day until I had to be at the theater.
Seth was planning to meet me after the show so we could have a late supper together at
The Yard
. He hadn’t been kidding about the long hours he worked. Michael saw more of me than Seth, and liked to curl up next to me on the sofa. We’d gotten close.
I jumped off of the bus at my stop and walked the last quarter of a mile to the apartment.
As I was about to push my door key into the lock, I paused. The living room window was open. I
knew
I hadn’t left it unlocked. I’d lived in cities long enough to know that open windows are an invitation to a burglar.
I fisted the key in my hand to use as a weapon, and pushed open the front door as quietly as I could.
When I walked into the living room, I saw a bulky shape on the couch that squeaked when it saw me.
“Sarah! Shit! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
She sat up, pressing her hand to her chest and gave me a weak smile.
“Nice to see you, too, Luka!”
“Sorry,” I laughed, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. “I missed you,
buča
.”
Her arms wrapped around my neck and she snuggled into my chest, the familiar scent of her perfume heavy in the summer heat.
We held each other for several seconds, until I remembered why this could be awkward. I wondered when we should have the whole
I’m-sleeping-with-your-brother
conversation.
But then I noticed she seemed as tense and uncomfortable as I was. Had Seth said something to her already? I thought we’d agreed that we’d tell her about us together.
“I wasn’t expecting you for another week.”
“I got back yesterday,” she said, moving away to fill the kettle. “I waited up but, well, you didn’t come home last night.”
“Yeah, I stayed with a friend.”
“Girlfriend?” she asked casually.
But the stiffness in her shoulders gave her away. I could see the tension in her body, radiating out of her.
“No. A guy friend.”
She spun around and flung herself at me.
“Oh, thank god! I was going mad imagining you with some trollop.”
She nuzzled against my throat as her hands wrapped around my neck again.
I laughed and hugged her back.
“I missed you, too,” she whispered.
But then I felt her hands drag down my back and start to wander around my waist to my crotch.
My body responded automatically even as I tried to disentangle myself from her.
“Sarah, what . . . ?”
“I’m so horny,” she muttered, nipping at my throat. “And we’ve missed each other. I’ve been thinking about that night. It was so fucking hot.”
I made a grab for her hands before they went further south. This had gone way beyond awkward.
“Oh, come on, Luka! I’ve been waiting for this for three months!” she laughed.
I pushed away from her, noticing an irritated expression shimmer across her face before it was replaced with a fake smile.
She looked different. More tanned than before and definitely rounder. Her tits were bigger, too. Someone had been eating all the pies. But a lot of dancers go through body morphs when they’re between shows. I preferred to stay in shape, but it’s a lot of work. If it was easy always taking dance classes or working out in a gym for two hours every day, everyone would do it. But it’s hard. You have to drag yourself there when you’re tired, hungover, fed up, or just feeling lazy.
But it wasn’t only the pounds she’d piled on, there was something in her eyes, in her expression—a hardness or determination. I wasn’t sure. But she was definitely acting weird.
“How was Australia?” I asked cautiously.
She didn’t reply right away, but kept her back to me while she made two cups of tea.
“Yeah, it was fun. But I was ready to come home.”
I scratched my neck while I watched her avoiding my eyes. I wasn’t used to things being weird between us.
“Look, I can pack up my shit and be out of your hair. It’s no problem—I can stay with a friend.”
Her shoulders were tense again and her expression was stiff as she sat on the couch next to me, pushing a cup of tea in my direction.
She took a sip, then set her cup on the coffee table.
“Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about, Luka.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, not really. Maybe, I don’t know yet.”
Her intense stare and random answer was beginning to freak me out.
“The thing is,” she said, dropping her eyes to her hands and fiddling with the bangles she wore. “The thing is, I’m pregnant.”
I winced in sympathy. I knew that James, her ex, was a penniless sax player. Pretty much on the same level as a transient ballroom dancer.
“That explains why you’re being so weird. Have you told James?”
Her expression hardened, then met my worried gaze.
“No. It’s you, Luka. You’re the father.”
My hand froze inches from the handle of my cup.
Had I heard her right?
“What? How?”
Her eyebrows rose in a sarcastic arch. “How? Well, when we had sex. I would imagine that’s how it happened.”
“
Sranje!
”
I leapt off the couch and started pacing up and down, my hands rubbing over my face.
“Are you sure it’s mine?”
Her face went red. “Yes, you arsehole! I’m sure! You’re the only person I’ve had sex with in the last five months.”
As I processed that information, another question surfaced.
“Are you going to keep it?”
She stood up and slapped my face. Hard.
“You are such a bastard! Yes, you’re the father! Yes, I’m keeping it!”
And then she burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she covered her face with her hands.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Sarah. It’s a shock. I’m sorry. Come here,
buča
.”
I pulled her into my arms, holding her against me as she cried and cried, like the world was ending. Which it kind of was. Her world. Our world.
Blood was pounding through my veins and I wanted to run.
Fight or flight?
But there was no one to fight, and I couldn’t run.
I could dance for hours non-stop, leap more than four feet in the air, cross a 12 meter stage in four jetés, but understanding relationships? I was useless at that. I could fuck. I was great at fucking, but something real, something important? I didn’t have a clue. I had no chance of making the right choices—even if the wrong ones meant being miserable for the rest of my life.
I held her, kissing her hair, letting her cry, but all the time I was thinking,
What am I going to tell Seth?
And alongside the sheer fucking panic, the certainty that my life was changing forever, there was the faint flutter of something else:
my child
.
I’d never thought of myself as getting married or having kids. Hell, the idea of being with the same person for the rest of my life didn’t even compute, but looking at Sarah, one of my closest friends, I felt that flutter again. It whispered, teasing me, tempting me. It was a voice, my conscience, maybe my real self, I don’t know.
And it said,
maybe . . .
When her tears finally began to ease, I brought her back to the couch and she sat down, her head resting on my chest as I stroked her hair. The familiarity was soothing to both of us. We’d spent many hours on the tour bus, just like this. With her, with Yveta, with Gary, with Oliver, with Ash and Laney. My dance family.
Family.
Sarah shifted in my arms and looked up at me.
“I’m so sorry,” she sniffled. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was on the pill, but I was so sick that night. And you didn’t even want to have sex with me. It’s humiliating.”
She was right, but I couldn’t say that to her. I wasn’t that much of a bastard.
I carried on stroking her hair soothingly.
My friend was hurting and it was my fault. I blurted out the only words that meant anything.
“We’re in this together, Sarah. I promise.”
Her body sagged against me and she pressed her cheek to my chest.
“Oh, thank God! Thank you so much! Oh God, I love you, Luka. It’s going to work, I promise you won’t regret it. You’ll be a great father, I know you will. I’m not saying we have to get married or anything, at least not yet, so . . .”
“Woah, wait, slow down!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been dreading telling you for weeks. So hearing you say that we’re in this together, you don’t know what that means to me. I’m so relieved! You wouldn’t believe the mess I’ve been.”
I realized that I’d just made things so much worse, and I had to put her straight.
“Sarah, we need to talk about this. I don’t think you understand . . .”
Her phone rang and she grabbed it from her purse.
“It’s my brother!” she smiled. “I have to take this.”
I was too late to stop Sarah from answering her cell.
“Seth!” she yelled into the phone. “Did Mum tell you I’m home? I know, I know . . . a week early . . . because there was something I had to do . . . no, no! Shut up, will you? I’ve got something to tell you! It’s important . . . you’re going to be an uncle! Yes! Yes! I know! It’s so exciting! No, not James, silly! It’s someone from the last tour. You don’t know him—his name is Luka.”
And she smiled at me as every drop of blood drained from my face.
“Yes, Luka, that’s right.” She frowned. “No, there was only one dancer called Luka on the tour. What an odd question! Look, don’t tell Mum yet. She has to meet him first. She won’t be happy that I’m knocked up without a ring on my finger, but once she meets him, it’ll be fine. He can charm anyone.”
She smiled, sparkling with happiness as everything inside me shriveled and died.
“Let’s go out for lunch to celebrate and you can meet Luka then.”
She was silent for a moment and her eyes widened as she stared at me.
“You’ve already met him?”
She held the phone away from her ear, and I could hear Seth’s tinny voice calling her name.
“When did you meet my brother?”
“At a party.”
“You never said anything.”
“I haven’t had a chance,” I mumbled.
“Well, that’s great,” she said, giving me a puzzled look. Then she put the cell back to her ear. “Yes, you bloody well can take a lunchbreak!” she said into the phone, sounding annoyed. “This is important, Seth. You are not allowed to work through lunch! Just be there—at one. The usual place.”
She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the table, snuggling into my chest again. Then she looked up at me with those blue-gray eyes, so much like her brother’s.
“I think I might go and lie down for a nap before lunch. All this emotion is exhausting. Want to come with me?”
Her hand stroked across my chest suggestively.
I stood up quickly.
“I’ve got a ton of stuff to do,” I lied. “I’m in a show,
The Bodyguard
, just as a backup dancer. I have to go in for a couple of hours this morning.”
She sat up, enthusiasm and happiness lighting her voice.
“Oh really? Wow, that’s pretty cool. I auditioned for that show once, but I only made it to second call-backs,” and she pulled a face. “Now we have two things to celebrate. I’ll get a table at Moro’s. It’s in Exmouth Market, so we’ll have to cab it. Buggered if I’m waiting for buses in this heat. You’ll love it—Seth and I go there all the time. You’ll be back for lunch, won’t you?”