That’s it, girls, lift your arms, long necks,” Elle said, placing one hand above her head. “Imagine a string going from your heels through your legs.” She pulled her hand higher. “Into your belly, through your shoulders and up your neck.” She felt her own body lengthen and smiled at the exercise Ms. Payne had taught her years ago. “The string going through the tippy tops of your fingers.” She raised her other hand and wiggled her fingers high above her head as she lengthened her entire body.

The free classes she’d offered over the last two weeks had done what she’d hoped. She had a full roster of students and was teaching classes four days a week at the studio.

Elle studied the group of young girls and marveled at how far her life had come in the last five years. This studio, these girls, were truly her calling. Yes, she missed dancing, but the stage wasn’t for her. Devlin’s photo of her backstage before the performance had proved that to Elle.

Devlin hadn’t been wrong in capturing the fear. She was always afraid before going on stage, but the thrill after had been like a drug. Until she’d had cancer. Then everything had changed. She found her thrills in other ways; watching her family succeed, watching Emmett write his first book in months, seeing the girls learn a new move. Her challenges weren’t as terrifying any more, but somehow, they were all the more rewarding to her.

Even in the midst of her new-found joy, Elle had a horrible knot in her gut. She’d received a confirmation call from her oncologist in New York. Her scans were scheduled, as were the fertility tests she’d asked for. Although she was looking forward to seeing her friends in New York, this trip was filled with more anxiety than most. She had much more to lose this time.

Elle still hadn’t told Emmett about the fertility testing, despite her sense that he knew she was holding back. Emmett’s eyes had a way of seeing through to her heart, past all the bullshit and walls she kept up for most. They were connected on more than just a physical level and she’d been foolish to think he didn’t sense her fears.

Elle had justified her silence by assuring herself that Emmett would worry for nothing if she told him now. That there was no point in having him nervous and scared alongside her. What really frightened her the most though wasn’t the results of the tests. It was the look she feared she would see on his face the moment he realized she might not be able to give him a family. She didn’t want to see that look until it was a reality.

“Ms. Noble,” one of the girls called out. “Ms. Noble!”

Good, Lord, where had her mind been? Elle shook her head clear and smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry, Clare. What is it?”

Clare nodded toward the clock on the wall. “It’s six-thirty. Are we finished?”

“Oh, yes, girls, I’m sorry. Please, pack up your things, we’re done for the day.” Elle laughed to herself. She could get lost for hours in the dance studio, but not some of the girls. Many of them were here because their parents wanted them enrolled in classes, not because they shared her joy for dance. If Elle were truly on her game, she’d be able to impart some sense of joy into each of them, no matter why they were in her class. She would help them find something they enjoyed, even if it wasn’t dance.

Elle helped the girls pack and said hello to their mothers and fathers as they made their way into the studio from the viewing balcony upstairs.

“It’s so wonderful to have you back, and teaching,” one person said.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well,” another said, with the look that said they were relieved they hadn’t been the one with cancer.

Elle felt a hollow pang inside her. If her cancer came back and she had to face even more of this…

“Are we done for the day, boss?” Elle’s receptionist, Shanna Madden, asked as she twirled a pencil in her hand. Obviously, she was bored. Elle would have to find her more to do around the office after she’d checked the kids in for their classes.

“Yes, we’re done.”

“Oh, good, I’ve got a date.” Shanna reached under the counter and grabbed her huge bag stuffed full of dance equipment.

Shanna was a great dancer. Elle had given her the job so Shanna could use the studio for practice. Shanna didn’t have the drive and motivation to make a career out of dance. Elle knew from experience that Shanna would have to be pushed if she really wanted to make it competitively in the dance world. But Elle would never force her to work harder if dance wasn’t Shanna’s passion. She knew the hardships many girls faced when forced by their parents or instructors. For now, Elle would mentor the girl and see where Shanna’s heart lay.

“You coming in the morning, for practice, I mean?” Elle asked. She’d developed a fondness for Shanna, mentoring her.

“Yeah, uh, about that…” Shanna skidded to a stop at the front door, slinging her huge bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to be out kind of late tonight. Can we make it like ten instead of eight?”

“Absolutely not.” Elle stood with her hands on her hips as most of her instructors had done. Wow, this was it. She was a real instructor. “I expect you at seven-thirty.”

“What?” Shanna practically shrieked.

“We begin practice at eight but you know you need time to warm up and stretch.”

“Ugggh, but it’s Saturday.” Shanna moaned, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Elle didn’t respond. Had she given her teachers this much grief? Probably.

“Fine.” Shanna gave her the pout only a teenager could manage and walked out.

“Seven-thirty,” Elle shouted as the door slammed shut. Through the window she saw Shanna wave and Elle laughed to herself. Maybe she should rethink the early morning rehearsal.

Elle walked around the counter, taking in the stacks of paper Shanna had obviously not gotten around to filing. She glanced down the hall to the staircase that led to the studio apartment where Emmett had holed up, working while she taught. She hadn’t heard from him in hours. He must be really engrossed in his book.

Her stomach rumbled but she didn’t want to disturb him. She knew this latest novel hadn’t been easy to write and decided to let him be.

She looked to the open studio, wanting to put on her toe shoes and lose herself in the peace that dancing brought. Before she could move though, her eyes landed on the paperwork. She loved owning the new dance studio, but abhorred all the paperwork. Dance would have to wait.

She reached for the first stack of papers, shuffling through them and pulling out things that needed her immediate attention from those that could wait.

When her cell phone rang, she glanced around the room and found it laying on the counter top above her. A glance at the screen told her it was Sabine Bonnay, her dance instructor at Tisch. The woman who had saved her life by taking her to the doctor when Elle hadn’t recognized her symptoms.

“Sabine?” Elle tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear and continued sorting the papers.

“Bonjour, sunshine,” Sabine’s French accent flowed through the line.

“Bonjour?” Elle questioned. “It’s not morning where I am.”

“Ahh, oui, oui, I forgot, it is not the morning in America.”

“Where are you?”

“Why my home, of course. Paris.” The way she said Paris with her thick French accent made Elle smile.

“You’re so lucky. Is it a visit?” Elle wondered if Sabine had left Tisch then dismissed the thought. Sabine lived and breathed for the school of performing arts.

“Oui. A short one before the semester resumes. I tell you to come here with me all the time, ma chérie, is this not true?”

Elle smiled. “Oui, it is true. Maybe one day soon.”

“No, maybe, d’accord?”

“Okay,” Elle repeated. “Definitely.” This time she meant it. She would make the time for a trip to Paris. Maybe Emmett would join her.

“Ahh, so much better, mon ami.”

“Why are you calling me at,” Elle glanced up at the wall clock, “good gracious, Sabine, it’s almost three in the morning in Paris.”

“Oui, it is true, my life as a world traveler does not track time.” Sabine laughed and even her laughter sounded French, like champagne freshly uncorked. “My body is immune to clocks. I can sleep anywhere, anytime.”

“You’re very lucky,” Elle said again.

“I am, I am. I cannot lie.” Elle could hear the smile in Sabine’s voice, but when she spoke next, the tone was more serious. “Were you able to add the fertility testing to your scan? Did they get you in to see a specialist when you come to New York?”

Sabine had, of course, been well aware of the fertility issues facing a cancer survivor. Elle had called her weeks ago to ask her advice now that things were getting serious between her and Emmett. It came as no surprise when her former mentor told her there was nothing to do but get testing. Sabine believed in facing any problem head on, and not flinching when you did it.

Sadly, Sabine had been one of the women whose option to have children had been affected by her cancer treatments. While Sabine said she’d been upset at first, she admitted it was a small sacrifice if it meant she could survive the cancer.

Elle glanced at the staircase to the apartment. She needed to end this call before Emmett came down. With a lowered voice, she said, “Yes. I’ll be seeing the specialists after the original testing is all finished.”

“Good, good. That’s for the best. Once you know, well, then we deal with the answers, no?” Sabine said this breezily, but Elle knew she didn't take Elle’s feelings lightly.

“Yes, I guess,” Elle said on a choked sob. “I really want to be able to have children though.”

“Oh, mon amie, don’t cry. Does your love know?”

“No, Emmett doesn’t know. I can’t tell him, not yet.”

“Oh, amoureux, you know there is always a way to bring the love of a child into your home. And we don’t know what the answers will be yet. Get the testing. Then, you’ll talk to your Emmett about them. Something tells me, this young man will be with you no matter what. No?”

The statement cut right to the heart of Elle’s fears. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered. “I really do.”

“I will see you soon, oui?” Sabine said.

“Oui,” Elle said quietly.

“Call me when you know something for sure. Au revoir, my love.”

“Yes, I’ll call you when I know. Good bye, Sabine.” Elle ended the call and sat quietly, trying to wrangle her emotions into check.

In the past she’d believed what she’d told Emmett, that there are no tomorrows. Things were different, now. Emmett had returned. She’d allowed herself to fall in love with him again. It changed everything. She wanted a tomorrow, with him. A tomorrow and a family.