"I did not know what to say to you," he told her. "I did not know how to explain we could not be together. To say why seemed…"

"Arrogant? Stuck up? Presumptuous?"

He shrugged. "All of those. So I took the easy way out. I said nothing. I let you walk away."

"Why are we having this conversation?" she asked, wishing the damn play would start or someone would come sit by them so he would stop talking.

"Because I want to apologize for that. I behaved badly."

He sounded sincere. She would swear that she could see the truth in his eyes. And she hated that. Hated that after everything they'd been through, she still wanted him to be one of the good guys.

"You can't honestly believe I'm going to trust you," she snapped. "You're an expert at playing my emotions. You came here with the express purpose of seducing me in order to steal Danny. Why is this any different?"

"Because it is. I do not know how else to explain myself to you."

"Then stop trying, because I'm done listening."

"Mia— "

But whatever he'd been about to say was cut off when a family moved into the row in front of them. Mia breathed a sigh of relief. It was a testament to his charm that even knowing what she knew, she still had trouble resisting him. The man was the devil.

Maybe that was problem. Women had been losing their souls to the devil's brand of temptation since the very beginning of time. Who was she to buck tradition?

* * *

Francesca hesitated outside the bedroom door. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Mia squeezed her hand. "You love her. That's what matters."

Francesca nodded, then knocked once and pushed open the door. "Hi, sweetie, how are you?"

Mia followed her sister into Kelly's room. Kelly lay on the bed reading a fashion magazine. She barely glanced at them.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Francesca said. "Just to talk about how things are going."

Kelly threw down the magazine and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her gaze narrowed. "So why is Mia here? And why is your face all scrunchy? You're not just here to talk. What's going on?"

Francesca glanced at Mia. "She was always really bright."

"Beats the alternative," Mia told her. "Want the chair?"

Francesca nodded and pulled out the desk chair. Mia settled in the window seat. Kelly folded her arms over her chest in a position even a layperson like Mia recognized as defensive.

"What?" she demanded.

Francesca drew in a breath. "Kelly, your dad and I love you so much. I hope you know that. We only want you to be happy."

"I am happy. Perfectly happy. I have a great life. I'm a dancer with the San Francisco Ballet. It's a fabulous company and I'm working really hard. Everything is fine."

"I don't think so."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Because you're going to believe Rafael's bullshit? Isn't he the liar prince?"

Mia admired her sister's patience. Francesca didn't lose her composure. She kept eye contact and spoke in a low voice. Obviously she wasn't a real Marcelli— she must have been spawned by aliens from a galaxy far, far away.

"I think what you do is amazing," Francesca said. "When you dance, you move with such grace and beauty, it's as if you're one with the music. You're right. You are working really hard. You've given up so much for your dance. Maybe it's too much. We were all so caught up in the dream of you being a ballerina, maybe we never considered the reality."

Kelly opened her mouth, then closed it. "This is stupid."

Francesca continued as if she hadn't heard. "So many women your age are in college. They're going to classes and frat parties and changing their minds about their majors. Sometimes their biggest problem is how to fit all the dirty laundry in the trunk of their car. But not you. You're living in the real world. You have an apartment, you pay your bills. You're a working woman. I can't imagine that at your age. Of course I was a student at twenty-eight."

Francesca smiled as she spoke. Kelly's lower lip quivered a little.

"We want you to be happy," Francesca told her. "Sometimes you have to try something to know if it's what you want. Sometimes you have to stumble and fall before you can fly."

Mia shifted on the window seat. "Francesca, you would try the patience of a saint. I swear, if you have any more analogies, I'm going to have to scream. Jeez. Just spit it out. Tell the kid you don't care if she doesn't want to be a dancer anymore. That it's fine. She can move home or go to college or whatever."

Francesca shot her a very clear "would you please shut up" look.

"I'm not a kid," Kelly said, then burst into tears.

Francesca moved onto the bed and pulled Kelly into her arms. Kelly clung to her.

"I'm s-sorry," she breathed between sobs. "I hate being a dancer. I know you guys g-gave up so much for me. I know it c-cost a lot. But I hate it." She raised her head and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I hurt all the time. The physical work is grueling. I'm tired and I'm hungry. I don't have what it takes. I don't. Even if I do, I don't want to anymore."

Francesca hugged her close. "Then you can stop right now." She smiled at Mia over Kelly's curly red hair and mouthed "Thank you."

Mia didn't bother to point out that she wasn't the one to be thanking. Rafael had figured out the truth none of them had been able to see. She wouldn't have thought he had the sensitivity or awareness, but she'd been wrong.

Kelly continued to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," Francesca said. "You're only twenty. How can you know what you want to do with your life? You're allowed to change your mind."

Kelly raised her head and wiped at her tears. "Really?"

Francesca nodded. "Of course."

"Then I want to go to college. Maybe community college at first. I want to be a physical therapist, get married, and have kids. I could teach ballet on the side or something. I don't want to let it go, but I can't make it my life anymore."

"Then you won't."

Kelly smiled. "Thanks for making me talk about this."

"Not a problem. I want you to know you can always come to me or your dad if you need to."

"I know, I just felt so stupid. I finally had what I'd always wanted and suddenly I didn't want it anymore. And…" She ducked her head. "I'm really sorry about Etienne. He was another mistake."

"You were trying to get our attention."

Kelly grinned at her. "Did it work?"

"Big-time."

Kelly hugged her, then slid off the bed. She crossed to Mia and caught her in a hug. "Thank Rafael for me, okay? Maybe he's not such a big butthead."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Kelly straightened. "I'm gonna go call Dad, then ask the Grands for some leftovers."

"Good. He'll want to talk to you, and you know how the Grands feel about feeding you. You'll make their day."

Kelly raced from the room. Francesca watched her go. "I'm so relieved," she said with a sigh. "I feel so much better about things. I know Kelly does, too. It's just… how could we not have figured it out before? She's been crying for help and no one noticed."

"We noticed," Mia told her. "We just weren't sure what was wrong. To quote your daughter, it took the butthead to see it."

"Which means he isn't as completely self-centered as we thought."

"Actually he is. He told me with the idea of getting points in return."

Francesca shrugged. "Still, it took a little emotional awareness for him to figure it out."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It's not bad. Mia, we're talking about Danny's father. You can't ignore him forever."

"Watch me try."

"Oh, that's mature."

Mia shook her head. "I know what you're saying, but I'm not prepared to be mature right now. I'm still angry and I don't trust him."

She thought about all they'd discussed while waiting for Danny's play to start. What bugged her wasn't what he said— it was her desire to believe it.

"Maybe he's learned his lesson," Francesca said.

"People don't change."

"Of course they do. Look at you. You're not the same person you were six years ago."

"We're talking about days, not years," Mia reminded her. "People change if motivated. Do you really think Rafael is? Right now he's pissed because he didn't win. He'll get tired and go home."

"Do you really believe he's going to walk away from Danny?"

Mia drew in a deep breath. "No," she said slowly, knowing anything else was wishful thinking on her part. "He'll come up with another plan. Maybe he already has. Whatever happens, I refuse to trust him."

Francesca winced. "Be careful about drawing a line in the sand. You don't want to get trapped by your own words."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. There is nothing Rafael can say or do to make me ever believe him again. He knows it and I know it."

* * *

"I'm riding, I'm riding," Danny cried as he circled the lawn behind the house.

"You look great," Mia called to the boy.

"Excellent," Rafael said. "Just like that. Very good."

Mia watched her son on the pony and realized that with the trip to Calandria off, she was going to have to find a place for Gaspare. She couldn't keep him tied up by the garage under Joe's makeshift tent/stable.

"I need to find a stable," she murmured. "Are they listed in the phone book?"

Rafael stiffened, but didn't protest that Danny and his pony would soon be leaving.

"You have land here," he said instead. "You could build a small stable."

"In theory, but unless the plans came with a way to build a little someone to care for Gaspare then we'd still have a problem. Danny's too young to care for the pony and I'll be busy with school. Even if you're still here, you don't strike me as the type to muck out a stall." She glanced at him. "It is 'muck out,' isn't it?"

"That is the term."

His expression was tight, his eyes narrowed.

"You're all pinchy," she said, feeling suddenly cheerful. "Is it the thought of being forced to stay here or the knowledge that the little prince won't be returning with you?"

"I am enjoying my time here with you," he said, avoiding the question. "Daniel has an excellent seat."

Not exactly a smooth change of subject, but that was okay. She glanced at Danny and saw he really did seem to have an instinctive understanding of how to ride.

"He must get that from you," she said. "I don't think a Marcelli has been on a horse in eighty or ninety years."

"Then perhaps it is time. I could arrange for the three of us to go riding."

"No, thanks. I think the pony is dangerous enough. I don't want to see a real horse."

"You are afraid?" he asked, his voice taunting her.

She refused to be trapped by threat of being called chicken. "Sensible. Very sensible."

"I see. How is Kelly?"

She groaned. "You love that you were right, don't you?"

"I'm glad she was able to tell her parents the truth and now she's happy."

"Oh, please. You're desperate to do the happy dance," Mia said. "You think you're Mr. Sensitivity."