Esmeralda frowned when Natasha showed her around Dimitri’s house, but she didn’t say anything.

It was the best reaction Natasha could have hoped for, if she was being honest with herself. On some level, she’d hoped her mother would admit she was impressed, but this shouldn’t have surprised her. If anything, it showed her the truth: if her mother couldn’t be surprised by Dimitri’s Beverly Hills home with the three-car garage, swimming pool, and private dance studio—now complete with a pole—then how would she ever have been impressed by Natasha’s little Hollywood apartment?

Good thing she wasn’t trying for her mother’s validation anymore. The woman had to be impressed, but she was as tight-lipped with her praise as ever.

Since Esmeralda’s friend hadn’t been able to make it, she’d threatened to cancel the trip, but Dimitri paid for her flight and hotel so she had no excuse not to come.

In the living room, Natasha let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Dimitri’s SUV rolling up the driveway.

“Dimitri está aquí,” Natasha said, grabbing her clutch from the chair. “We’re meeting his parents at the studio.”

Her mother shrugged and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Vamanos.”

Natasha offered her mother the passenger seat, but Esmeralda refused and sat in the back.

When Natasha met Dimitri’s eye, a measure of tension eased. He was here. She wasn’t in this alone.

The ride to the studio was mostly silent. Natasha spoke to Dimitri about logistics—his parents’ hotel room, dinner plans for later at Kras—but her mother didn’t say a word.

The punishing silence had been a big part of Natasha’s childhood. When Esmeralda was pissed, she didn’t speak, and often acted like Natasha wasn’t even in the room. For an active child who thrived on company, it had been the worst kind of punishment, and Esmeralda knew it. That she was doing it now meant she was trying to punish Natasha for something.

And for the first time in her life, Natasha didn’t give a shit.

Not caring what her mother thought of her, or why she was in a snit, was the most liberating feeling in the world. She should have tried it a lot earlier.

It was weird attending the premiere as a guest. She and Dimitri had seats right at one of the VIP dinner-club-style tables on the edge of the dance floor, with the other celebrities in attendance, but their families had to sit further back. They’d planned to introduce everyone before arriving at the studio, but Dimitri’s parents’ flight had been delayed.

Even stranger was how similar it felt to visiting Babe Planet. Maybe it was always weird when you visited a former job after quitting. It might feel the same if she visited Corazón restaurant in the Bronx, where she waitressed when she was a teenager.

Dimitri leaned in and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you again for arranging everything.”

“Of course. Nothing makes me happier than taking care of our family.”

Our family. He’d accepted that Esmeralda was difficult, and had approached her with impersonal good cheer that bordered on dismissive. He didn’t try to charm her, but he also didn’t stoop to her bad mood. It was probably the best approach to take with her mother. If only she’d figured that out years ago.

Natasha slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Openly touching him at work was also weird, but in a good way. And neither of them worked here anymore. For years, they’d held back, hiding their attraction and affection for each other. But they were consenting adults who—okay, they still worked together, but in a different capacity. They could certainly hold hands in broad daylight.

They found Dimitri’s parents standing near their table. When Oksana set eyes on Natasha, she rushed forward to kiss her on both cheeks.

“Beautiful girl!” she trilled, pulling Natasha in for another hug. “How is your ankle, Natka? Done with physical therapy?”

“Good as new.” Natasha couldn’t help but grin. Oksana was warm, giving, and effusive with praise. The opposite of Esmeralda.

Natasha made introductions. Oksana dialed back the enthusiasm, and Misha, Dimitri’s father, was quiet but sweet. Esmeralda was polite, but kept her lips pressed together, as if letting something resembling a smile slip out would bring about the end of the world. Oksana peppered Esmeralda with questions about being a hairstylist, and Esmeralda opened up a bit.

Dimitri kept his arm around Natasha’s waist while he spoke with his father in Russian. It was a beautiful language, but so different from Spanish. She’d mentioned she might like to learn it, and he’d surprised her by ordering a whole language-learning program for the computer. When she commented on the purchase, he’d said simply, “You wanted it.”

Oksana turned to her new favorite topic—praising Natasha. Natasha’s cheeks grew hot, and Esmeralda’s lips flattened even further. Shit. She was pissed.

Before Natasha could interrupt, Esmeralda opened her mouth and said in a curt tone, “I know. She is my daughter.”

Oksana blinked, and they were all saved from responding when Kevin bounced over, dressed in a sparkly costume tux for the opening number.

“Hey, hey, party people!” He threw an arm over Natasha’s shoulder, earning him a dark look from Dimitri. “Y’all ready for a good time?”

“Kevin, I’d like you to meet my . . .” Natasha trailed off when she caught sight of her mother’s face.

Esmeralda’s lips parted, her jaw fell slack, and her eyes rounded, as if transfixed. “Kevin Ray,” she whispered.

Natasha blinked. Her mother knew Kevin?

Esmeralda shuffled forward and took the hand Kevin offered her, clasping it between both of her own. “Kevin, you are just amazing. I vote for you every season.”

Natasha stared at her mother. Everyone stared at her mother.

Kevin spoke first. “You don’t vote for Natasha?”

“I vote for both of you. And Gina.”

“Mami, you watch the show?” Natasha couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. All these years, her mother had bitched about The Dance Off, claiming she didn’t have the time or inclination to watch a bunch of so-called celebrities tottering around the dance floor.

“Of course I watch the show,” Esmeralda scoffed.

Well, that was news.

Oksana pulled Dimitri away, and Natasha listened with half an ear while Kevin charmed Esmeralda. They took selfies and videos together, and he pulled her into a quick salsa step. Natasha heard her mother say, “You’re my favorite guy on the show. Not like that judge. He grades too harshly.”

Oh, lord. No wonder she was acting cold toward Dimitri. She’d fallen for his TV persona as the cranky judge.

“Who, Dimitri?” Kevin leaned in close and whispered, “Dimitri’s not so bad. I mean, I don’t like him much either, but he loves Tash, so . . . I guess he’s not terrible.”

He gave Esmeralda a kiss on the cheek and one last goodbye, then slipped backstage.

When Reggie Kong, one of the show’s hosts, stopped by to greet them, Oksana and Esmeralda bonded over their love of Reggie’s blue-streaked hair and edgy gowns.

Natasha slipped an arm around Dimitri and bumped him with her hip.

“It’s nice being here as guests,” she said. “We get to watch Lori make history.”

“The first two-woman pairing on The Dance Off—it’s a huge deal. I almost wish I were still judging, so I could give them a hundred.”

“Pssh. Like you would ever give someone a perfect score on the first episode.”

He grinned. “I guess we’ll never know.”

She nudged him and pointed to their mothers, who had pulled out their phones and were looking up videos of their favorite dance routines from past seasons of the show. “Maybe this Ukrainian-Puerto Rican mix will work out after all.”

He kissed her forehead. “We’ll make it work. No matter what comes our way, we’ll make it work. Together.”

She nodded. “Sí. Juntos.”

“Vmeste.”

“Yup. That’s what I said.” Then she grabbed his lapels because she could, and demanded, “Now give me the kind of kiss that’ll end up all over the gossip sites.”