Chapter 6
Nick
JULY | Tarot: Six of Cups
Annie’s hand was in mine as we scurried to the dance floor of someone else’s wedding. I could have died from the unbridled joy in her expression: two dimples popping, her nose wrinkling and drawing up her upper lip, those green eyes sparkling.
I’d taken the girl from hollow eyes and crying to radiating joy. That’s the best kind of magic I could think of.
We got there in time to get a little bit softer now, and a littlebit softer now, laughing our heads off at our little heist. Stealing someone else’s good time. It was worth every second.
Annie boogied down with somebody’s uncle behind her, who seemed all too thrilled to be dancing with the pretty woman.
Pretty’s an understatement. She was beautiful when she was sad. She was out of this world gorgeous when she was carefree like that.
I had to cut in when the next song started, a slow dance. “May I have this dance?”
“Of course,” she said, swinging into my arms and looping hers around my neck. She felt nothing short of perfect, the magnet perfectly coordinated with my body. Her breasts wedged below my pecs, her hips slotting in with mine and my hands wrapping around the curve of her waist. Annie giggled when she met my eyes, the slight awkwardness of what we didn’t know about each other meeting the quiet comfort I felt with her. She broke our glance by looking over at the bride and groom, completely smitten with one another. Longing settled over her expression.
“Never would have guessed you’d have been the person to say ‘fuck love’ just a few hours ago,” I said.
“Yousaid ‘fuck love.’ I just didn’t disagree,” she said. “The truth is that I really want all of this. I want the big wedding. I want to get a dog as a warmup for having kids. I want the fights and the commitment and the sick days and traveling the world and reading until we fall asleep together. I want to stick it out with somebody.”
If I were being more of a jokester, I’d have mimed stabbing myself in the chest and blood gushing out. But her statement was too vulnerable for jokes. She was opening up to me. I could do to give a little of myself to someone else.
“I have a dog,” I smirked.
“Instead of kids?”
I looked to the top of the tent. “For now.”
She sighed. “If only you lived in Nashville.”
“Or you lived in L.A.” I pulled her closer, training my gaze on her eyes. “Do you believe in signs, Annabelle?”
Her brow furrowed and her eyes searched my face. “I used to.”
“I did too,” I said. “But I think maybe it’s time we started believing in them again.”
She laughed softly. “I don’t know. I think life is just life at this point.”
“What about for tonight? Will you believe for tonight?” I gestured out past the dance floor. “None of that exists. Everything real is right here. The future has infinite possibilities. There are no geographic or personal limitations. We could be that couple considering eloping. Will you make-believe with me, Annie?”
She seemed captivated, entranced, waiting for more.
“Just for tonight, Annie.”
“What will we do?” she asked.
“No questions. Just trust the process.”
I dipped her back as the song ended, holding her eyes.
“I’ll make-believe.”
I beamed, taking her hand in mine. “Come with me.”
Annie trailed behind me, tethered by our joined hands. I plucked a half-empty champagne bottle off the bar. The bartender yelled after us as we took off for the golf course, but I just waved a thank you.
