Doubted others.
He refused to turn uncertainty into certainty just because a child wanted comfort.
So he said what he always said.
“I don’t know.”
Lily pressed her head against his chest.
Duke added:
“But if she could have seen you, she would’ve been proud.”
“Even when I stopped?”
“Especially when you started again.”
Lily became quiet.
A knock sounded.
Mara entered.
She had removed her headset.
Mascara smudged beneath one eye.
“Am I interrupting?”
Duke shook his head.
Mara crouched.
“Lily?”
Lily looked.
“You did something very hard tonight.”
“I forgot.”
“I know.”
“Are you mad?”
Mara’s face softened.
“No.”
“Did I mess everybody up?”
“A little.”
Duke glanced at her.
Mara smiled.
“Honesty.”
Lily looked worried.
Mara continued.
“And everybody adjusted.”
“That’s part of dancing too.”
“What if I do it next time?”
“Then we adjust next time.”
Lily studied her teacher.
“Can Daddy dance next time?”
Duke said immediately:
“No.”
Lily giggled.
Mara laughed.
“Maybe only emergencies.”
“Good.”
Duke looked down at the tutu.
“We need an emergency definition.”
Mara stood.
“I think tonight qualifies.”
Then she became serious.
“Bear, there are reporters outside.”
Duke stared.
“What?”
“Not reporters exactly.”
“People are posting the video.”
“Somebody sent it to a local parent group.”
“It’s spreading.”
Duke looked at Lily.
“No.”
Mara understood immediately.
“You want it taken down?”
“I don’t want her face everywhere.”
Mara nodded.
“Let me see who posted first.”
Duke had no social-media accounts except an old profile he used to message relatives.
He hated the idea of strangers turning Lily’s panic into entertainment.
Mara found the parent.
Caroline Bishop.
The woman who helped sew the tutu.
The woman who had laughed when Duke first stood.
She came backstage looking guilty before Duke said a word.
“I posted it.”
Duke stood.
At six-foot-six, standing while angry had consequences.
Caroline immediately lifted both hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“I didn't think.”
“Take it down.”
“Yes.”
“Now.”
She opened her phone.
Then hesitated.
“Bear…”
His expression hardened.
“Take it down.”
“I will.”
“I already am.”
“But it’s been shared.”
“How many?”
Caroline swallowed.
“Maybe four thousand times.”
Duke stared.
“What?”
“In twenty minutes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish.”
She deleted her original.
It did not matter.