His eyes gleamed as he smoothed his hand over mine, pulling it to his lips and kissing my palm. “I hope you know how beautiful you look,” he said softly, lowering our hands.
“I’m beginning to,” I couldn’t help the blush. I’d always felt I had decent self-esteem when it came to how I looked, how I let myself be seen in the world, but hearing him tell me I looked beautiful was a whole other level. “I like when you wear your button downs,” I offered back.
“Dom complains that it’s too casual,” he lifted a shoulder, smile lighting his face.
“It’s perfect,” I picked up the three small bouquets of flowers we’d purchased earlier and slipped them into my bag before stepping into my sandals and following Finn out the door.
I plugged my phone into my car as I started the engine, “Highway Tune” filling the space between us. I felt my cheeks warm as Finn’s eyebrows shot up, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Seriously?” He turned up the volume slightly. “I had you pegged for indie coffee shop music.”
“Shows what you know,” I pulled out of my driveway, the familiar opening riff settling my nerves. “I’ve been listening to rock since high school. Pop-punk too. Helps me focus.”
He drummed his fingers against his thigh in time with the bass line. “Dom thinks my music taste is ‘aggressively masculine and emotionally stunted.’”
“Dom listens to show tunes and indie dad music and calls it sophisticated,” I shrugged, “or Taylor Swift.”
“Don’t knock T. Swift,” he teased, settling back in his seat. “She’s my girl.”
“I thought I was your girl,” I feigned shock.
“I think last night proved you’re a woman,” he winked, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat as I pulled onto the busy highway.
“What’s your favorite song byyour girl?”
He grew quiet a moment and I glanced over at him, worried. “Right Where You Left Me.”
I swallowed. “Good answer,” I reached over and squeezed his thigh gently.
He covered my hand briefly, returning the gesture before hitching a smile. “Greta Van Fleet’s pretty good though too.”
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into Roosevelt Middle School, my stomach starting its own dance party. The parking lot buzzed with families heading toward the building, kids in leotards and ballet shoes, parents carrying flowers and cameras.
I spotted Mom and Tony near the entrance with Marcus and Holly. The twins bounced around them in matching pink tutus, their hair slicked back into perfect buns. Carter clung to Holly’s leg, stuffed panda in his other arm, while Madison held Tony’s hand.
“You okay?” Finn’s voice was quiet.
My chest felt tight. Last night replayed in flashes. His mouth on my skin, the way I’d completely lost control, how natural the morning had felt. How real it felt. Except it wasn’t. We had a part to perform.
“Not in the slightest,” I managed, hoping it sounded more like humor than the truth. Finn squeezed my arm before getting out and walking around to open my door and help me out.
We moved toward my family as my mind raced.Don’t be weird about touching him. Don’t overthink every interaction. Don’t make it obvious that something happened. Don’t…
Finn’s hand found mine, his touch grounding and safe.
“Steady,” he murmured in my ear, so low only I could hear it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. “There she is,” he squeezed my hand.
“Aunt Sasha! Uncle Finn!” Sadie spotted us first and launched herself toward us, Rose close behind. They wrapped their arms around my waist, then immediately transferred their enthusiasm to Finn, hugging his legs furiously.
“Look at you two,” I crouched down to their level. “You look like real ballerinas.”
“Wearereal ballerinas,” Sadie corrected me. “Miss Ashley says we have natural grace.”
Madison appeared, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I’m in the older kids’ group. We’re doing jazz, not ballet. It’s way cooler.”
“Do you dance, Uncle Finn?” Rose studied his face.
“Only when no one’s watching,” he said solemnly. “And I never get to wear a tutu.”
