He felt a little guilty for having just scolded her about not checking the peephole before opening the door for him. He wanted to do something to calm her. “Do you think this person followed me up here?” She asked still staring out of the window. They’d arrived in New York the night before and tonight was Mercedes’ first performance since her apartment was broken into. Raul felt an ache in his chest as he realized just how anxious Mercedes was about performing. His feet moved on their own accord. When he reached her at the window, he stroked her back, needing to touch her, to both reassure her and himself. “We don’t know,” he replied to her question honestly, it’s possible. But nothing is going to happen to you. You’re not in this alone.” She half smiled. “I know. I trust you. It’s just that knowing this person could be in the audience or hell, even one of the dancers is scary. I love dancing and performing.
