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joking.”
    “You two ready?” Trevor stepped to the side of the gate that was holding Graham and Molly on the platform. His hand rested on the gate’s latch.
    Graham thought he felt Molly shiver against him and he leaned his head forward. “You ready?” he asked, and she nodded. He looked at Trevor. “Okay,” he said, “Let her rip!”
    Trevor lifted the latch and the gate swung open. Graham let out a whoop as he and Molly sailed through the air. He’d forgotten the sense of freedom that came with riding the zip line, and yet the sensation was fleeting. His mind wasn’t on the blanket of emerald green treetops spread out below him or the rich scent of the air that blew through his hair. Instead, he saw the top of his daughter’s head where it rested on his chest and her one good small untethered hand where it clutched his arm. From this angle, her little pink sneakers appeared to be resting on his own shoes and he smiled to himself and hugged her tighter.
    “We’re dancing, Molly,” he whispered to her, although he knew the wind stole his words and she couldn’t possibly hear them. It didn’t matter. They were dancing, and it was better than a dream.

 
    Read on for an excerpt from
Diane Chamberlain ’s new novel,
Pretending to Dance,
available October 2015

    Excerpt from Pretending to Dance copyright © 2015 by Diane Chamberlain .
     
    2014
    1.
    San Diego
    I’m a good liar.
    I take comfort in that fact as Aidan and I sit next to each other on our leather sectional, so close together that our thighs touch. I wonder if that’s too close. Patti, the social worker sitting on the other wing of our sectional, writes something in her notes, and with every scribble of her pen, I worry her words will cost us our baby. I imagine she’s writing The couple appears to be codependent to an unhealthy degree . As if picking up on my nervousness, Aidan takes my hand, squeezing it against his warm palm. How can he be so calm?
    “You’re both thirty-eight, is that right?” Patti asks.
    We nod in unison.
    Patti isn’t at all what I expected. In my mind I’ve dubbed her “Perky Patti.” I’d expected someone dour, older, judgmental. She’s a licensed social worker, but she can’t be any older than twenty-five. Her blond hair is in a ponytail, her blue eyes are huge, and her eyelashes look like something out of an advertisement in Vogue. She has a quick smile and bubbly enthusiasm. Yet, still, Perky Patti holds our future in her hands, and despite her youth and bubbly charm, she intimidates me.
    Patti looks up from her notes. “How did you meet?” she asks.
    “At a law conference,” I say. “In 2003.”
    “It was love at first sight for me,” Aidan says. I know he means it. He’s told me often enough. It was your freckles, he’d say, touching his finger to the bridge of my nose. Right now, I feel the warmth of his gaze on me.
    “We hit it off right away.” I smile at Aidan, remembering the first time I saw him. The workshop was on immigration law, which would later become Aidan’s specialization. He’d come in late, backpack slung over one shoulder, bicycle helmet dangling from his hand, blond hair jutting up in all directions. His gray T-shirt was damp with sweat and he was out of breath. Our workshop leader, a humorless woman with a stiff-looking black bob, glared at him but he gave her that endearing smile of his, his big brown eyes apologetic behind his glasses. His smile said, I know I’m late and I’m sorry, but I’ll make you happy that I’m in your workshop. I watched her melt, her features softening as she nodded toward an empty chair in the center of the room. I’d been a wounded soul back then. I’d sworn off men a couple of years earlier after a soul-searing broken engagement to my longtime boyfriend Jordan, but I knew in that moment that I wanted to get to know this particular man, Aidan James, and I introduced myself to him during the break. I was smitten. Aidan was playful, sexy,