If not for her gratitude for him saving her grandmother, Giselle would have been far less patient.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside to make room for Henry.
Henry entered the dance studio, a place typically reserved as Giselle’s personal sanctuary, one he normally wouldn’t dare to intrude upon.
The studio was set up like a compact one-bedroom suite, furnished with all the essentials, including a fridge stocked with Giselle’s favorite snacks and beverages.
Occasionally, she spent the whole day there, and Henry, not wanting to disturb her but concerned she might be hungry, had arranged for a fridge to be installed and stocked it weekly.
Giselle directed him to what she considered the best seat in the house and adjusted a small sofa for him. “Please, sit.”
The table beside him was alr
