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time? My tongue ran around the rim of my mouth to ensure the sauce was gone. Baxter watched, his own lips partially open. “All gone?” I asked quietly.
    He nodded, his eyes never leaving my mouth. I bit my bottom lip, and Baxter sucked in a sharp breath. He leaned in and whispered softly, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about biting that lip?”
    I shook my head slowly, a slight smile creeping onto my face.
    I knew I’d never gotten over Baxter. He was my first and only. The man I had given myself to completely, the man I’d trusted in every way, whether it was in his arms while we danced together, or in his arms as he moved inside me, his labored breath heating my skin as his face burrowed my neck.
    After he’d left, I’d thrown myself into classes, counting down the days until I would graduate and could make my way to New York to be with him. But things didn’t always work out the way you planned, and two months before I was due to leave Boston, my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer.
    I’d stayed; how could I not? I was an only child, and there was no way I could leave my parents when they’d needed me the most. My parents had been childhood sweethearts and my mom had just been told that the love of her life was going to die. Dad had put on a brave face, forever positive until the bitter, crushing end. He’d never complained, mainly because he didn’t want to worry Mom or me. But I knew better. I knew the pain was severe; I’d seen the agony on his face when he thought no one was watching.
    Dad’s prognosis had been grim. Six months was the time he had been given, so I had bided my time. I’d packed everything already and was reluctant to unpack, so lived out of a suitcase and boxes … and waited. Waited for something I never wanted to happen, but waited for it to happen so I could get on with my life with Baxter.
    Boston Ballet Company sought me out. Apparently they’d heard good things from the instructors at the conservatory. When I’d explained my situation, they offered me a place to dance, a sanctuary to forget my troubles and just let go. I’d jumped at the chance to continue honing my craft … and I’d waited.
    Dad fought for three years. When Mom and I sat by his bed on that final evening and held his hands, I could see that he was slipping away. There was nothing more the doctors could do for him, so we had all agreed to discharge Dad from hospital so he could be at home with us.
    “Let go, honey,” Mom had told him through her tears. “We’ll be fine; you don’t have to fight anymore. Let yourself find some peace.”
    I’d squeezed Dad’s hand so hard. “I love you, Daddy.”
    “I love you too, Jazzy. I’m so proud of you. You’ve followed your dreams and you are a remarkable woman,” he had croaked as tears had welled in his eyes.
    I’d kissed Dad’s hand, then leaned over and kissed his clammy cheek.
    He’d smiled one last time for me, then turned to Mom. They’d nodded to each other, both knowing that this was the end. Mom had kissed Dad one last lingering time on the lips. The last kiss for the man that she had loved since she was a teenager.
    Then he’d closed his eyes. He was gone.
    “Hey, where did you just go?” Baxter asked with a nudge of his elbow.
    “Hmm? Oh, just thinking about my dad. He always wanted me to make a career from dancing.”
    “So what happened with your dad? Is he okay now? You started to tell me on the train but I figured it wasn’t the right time or place.”
    “He passed a few years ago.” I dropped my gaze to the abundance of food still on the table, untouched.
    “Oh, Jaz.” Baxter squeezed my hand, the sadness in his eyes making my own mist over. “I know you were so close to your dad.”
    I nodded as I tried to compose myself. “That’s why I didn’t come.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t leave when …”
    “I’m so sorry, Jaz, I had no idea. Like I said, I thought BBC had called –”
    “And