A flood of emotions kept Natasha’s feet rooted to the floor.

Surprise, for sure. Gina was supposed to be in Alaska or New York, not Los Angeles.

Shock, since she’d expected Manny.

Shame, because everything in her life had fallen apart since Gina had left, and she didn’t want Gina to know how messed up everything had become.

Fear, that Gina would judge her.

But overwhelming them all was joy.

Her friend was back.

And then Natasha’s feet were moving, crossing the threshold over the apartment, and she and Gina were crushing each other in a tight bear hug.

It wasn’t until her breath hitched that Natasha let herself feel how much she’d missed her friend.

Gina’s familiar embrace, the scent of her shampoo, the way she squeezed before letting go, grounded Natasha in a way nothing else had in the past few months.

When they eased back, they were both wiping the corners of their eyes.

“So, what’s been going on?” Gina asked, dragging her rolling suitcase into the apartment.

“Ha!” From the kitchen, Kevin barked out a laugh, echoed by Lori. “What hasn’t been going on?”

At Gina’s curious look, Natasha beckoned her further inside. “I guess I should fill you in.”

“You guess?” The further Gina moved into the apartment, the more her eyes widened, taking in the boxes and remaining tarp. “Did you repaint the walls?”

And then some. “It’s . . . kind of a long story.”

“Give me a minute, and then I want to hear all of it. You’ve been tight-lipped since I left.” Gina took off her shoes by the door, then went into the kitchen to hug Lori and Kevin. After scooping a bit of each salad onto a plate, Gina gave Natasha an expectant look. “Well?”

“Let’s talk in my room.” Natasha led the way into her bedroom.

Gina stopped just inside the door, gazing around and chewing. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“It’s part of the story.”

They sat on the edge of Natasha’s bed. Natasha’s stomach fluttered with nerves.

“I need a minute.”

Gina shrugged and tucked into the food. “Take your time.”

Natasha didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to admit how much she’d fucked up since Gina had left. How incapable she was of handling her life on her own. It was different with Lori and Kevin. They still didn’t know the full story—Lori didn’t know about her credit, and neither of them knew about Babe Planet.

And while no one needed to know every bit of her life, she was holding back out of fear of judgment. She didn’t trust Gina not to judge her. And that was kind of shitty way to think about your best friend. Of anyone, Gina deserved to know.

All along, Dimitri had pushed her to open up to Gina. To reach out to her. He’d seen how she was struggling, unmoored, and while he’d tried to help her himself, he’d also understood the need to connect with the one person who knew you better than anyone else, and who still loved you.

Her mother didn’t accept her life choices, but Gina always had, even when she didn’t agree with them. Despite the evidence, Natasha still hadn’t seen fit to open up to her.

Now or never.

It was hard, but Natasha told her everything. From closing out her credit cards and buying a new car, the extra jobs and leak in the ceiling, the sprained ankle and Dimitri’s confession of love, Babe Planet and Donna’s threat, all the way to breaking up with Dimitri and moving back into the apartment. She even included the most recent developments—Donna’s revenge through Rocky Lim, and Penelope’s call.

When Natasha finished, the relief of having spilled everything left her weak, but she anxiously awaited Gina’s response.

Gina was quiet. She’d set her empty plate aside on the floor, and she sat now leaning back on her elbows. Finally, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Natasha could have asked, “About what?” She’d spilled so much tonight. But she knew what Gina meant. Why hadn’t she told her . . . all of it. Any of it. Why hadn’t she asked for help.

“I’d been leaning on you for so long, I figured it was time I stood on my own two feet.” She lifted her right foot, a simple bandage pulled over the ankle like a sock. “Guess that didn’t turn out so well.”

Gina hugged her around the neck, and Natasha’s breath hitched again. It was what Abuela would have done. Maybe that was why they were friends. Maybe that’s why she loved Gina so much.

“You’re doing great,” Gina said. “Get your mom’s voice out of your head.”

That did it. To have someone know her so well and still love her . . . The tears came, and Gina rubbed her back. Again, just like Abuela would have.

“I missed the hell out of you,” Natasha admitted.

“I was worried about you. But I figured if things were bad, you’d tell me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Now Gina gave her a punch in the arm. “You’re my best friend. You’re never a bother. That’s part of the best friend pact. Didn’t you know?”

“Now I do.”

“You were there for me when all the shit went down at the end of the last season.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, but you also tried to hide your relationship with Stone from me.”

“Well, I didn’t want to think it was a relationship. If it was just a hookup, why did I need to tell?” She sighed. “I get it, though. Sometimes things feel too raw to share. And if I’d known you were struggling when you first moved here, I would have come out sooner. I wouldn’t have left you alone for that. And I would have made you take rent money this summer.”

“I know you would have. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m not your responsibility, Gina. I’ve made mistakes, but . . . I’m learning.”

Gina was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy, or overbearing, in any way. It’s just—you’re my friend, you know? I don’t want to see you struggle if I can help. But I hear you. And you’re right, we have to make mistakes so we can learn from them.”

They lapsed into companionable silence. Natasha looked around her room, the bed and dresser the only items in it. The walls were bare. She’d put the curtains back up, only so she didn’t have to worry about the people in the neighboring building looking in on her. The closet was empty, aside from a few items that would wrinkle if folded into the drawers. Most of it had been sold, and the rest was already packed. Turned out, clothes didn’t make the woman, and she didn’t need that much after all. Living out of suitcases while at Dimitri’s had shown her that.

This wasn’t her home anymore. This apartment, this symbol of her independence, her success, no longer held any meaning to her. She had been so determined to come back here, to prove to herself to her mother, and hell, even to the producers, that she could make it as a dancer.

Who was she kidding? Paying rent on a basic-ass apartment in Hollywood wasn’t a measure of success. Lots of people managed to do it. Yeah, it was great to be able to pay your own bills, but now it seemed like such a silly thing to stake her identity on. The apartment didn’t define her. The stuff she’d filled it with didn’t say anything about her skill as a dancer or choreographer.

She glanced at her ankle. Being a dancer didn’t even define her anymore. Who are you if you’re not a dancer?

Who was she, if she wasn’t a dancer? Who was she, if she couldn’t pay her own bills, pay rent on her own apartment, and support herself from her craft?

She was Natasha. Still, now, and always.

Compulsive spending and the need for external markers of success had held her back and kept her locked into a lifestyle and a job that didn’t respect her. She didn’t owe Fucking Donna any loyalty. And Donna had said it herself, Natasha could use her ankle as an out.

“I think I’m going to quit The Dance Off,” Natasha said out loud, mostly to hear how it sounded. It sounded good.

Gina raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s just a job.”

And if she got a different one, a better one, she could explore more of who she was without it.

And maybe she and Dimitri could explore who they were together.

Gina patted her leg. “Glad you see the light.”

And for once, the future looked bright.