Right on cue, the music transitions to an orchestra version of “Wildest Dreams,” and after shoving down my nerves for the millionth time since I’ve arrived and secretly gazed starry-eyed at her from a distance, I lead Lucy in our carefully rehearsed steps that we practiced during the evening hours within a small space in the center back in late September.
Her grip loosens in mine, her movements slowly melting into mine as we waltz in small, rehearsed circles around our dance space. She never takes her eyes off of mine, and not to be dramatic, but, I think I’m falling in love with her all over again.
When did it happen the first time?
Was it when we danced back in February? Was it when she put me in my place time and time again while I led with a boyish pursuit of her? Maybe it was when she slid into my family’s lives like she’s belonged there all along? Or when I found myself spilling my secrets over seafood?
One thing’s for sure—the initial lust I had for her is absolutely nothing compared to this feeling of deep love. And it’s love that commands me to work hard to keep my thoughts pure towards her, keep her protected, and cherish her like the strong, capable woman she is.
I spin her around and pull her in close to me. Her hand moves to gently brace the back of my neck as she tilts her chin to keep her eyes focused on mine. I see a million questions in her gaze, but we don’t dare speak a word as we move in fluid motion while the rest of the crowd disappears into a hushed blur.
It’s me, Lucy, and the music.
Her red hair, styled into perfect waves with two braids crowning her head right above the line of her bangs, flows with each spin I initiate. Somewhere throughout this dance, her shocked expression dissolved not into a smile but into a serious, contemplative look. Like I’m the study guide for a test she’s about to take.
This moment is a test of sorts.
Will she accept me?
Kick me out?
Will I falter in my resolve?
Is it possible fear will freeze me again?
Most importantly, is she in a better place to have me?
It’s something I never told her, but she needed me to walk away as much as I needed to. I could see the pain, the hurt, and the agony in her eyes with every passing day after she told me she loved me. Acting in lust and ignoring love, I took advantage. But she wasn’t going to walk away from me. Not in her anxious state of loneliness.
I spin her out again as the song begins to draw to a close. Though her dress is loose, she does look healthier. Her freckled face is fuller, her skin warmer. She must be doing better; Lorelei most likely wouldn’t have let me come if she wasn’t.
God, don’t let me slip up and break her again. Strengthen me so that I can be the man who loves her for all of her days.
The song closes and fades into an unknown number. Probably Bach or something.
Lucy remains in my arms, one hand placed on my shoulder as her arm presses against my chest at our nearness. My hand is on her waist, burning through her dress in my nervousness. Time continues to pass as we remain as statues staring into each other’s eyes, breaths heavy from the dance. I feel the edges of my consciousness slip into inappropriate memories, so I lift a silent prayer of resolve and gently step away from her.
Dropping my hands to my side, I smile sheepishly and say the most epic “I’ve come to grand-gesture you” line in the history of forever: “Hi.”
Kill me now. How did admitting I was in love with her turn me into an awkward specimen?
Her contemplative stare turns into… Is she hiding a smile right now? Fine. I’ll remain awkward if it’s impressing her.
“Mr. Notorious Playboy Boss has lost his edge, huh?” She crosses her arms and leans to one side.
“A pretty woman will do that to a man. Especially when he loves her.” I smirk, metaphorically patting myself on the back for not having lost all my wits about me.
“Hm. So you love me?” She begins to circle me, carefully avoiding those dancing around us. I have half the mind to pull us away from the dance floor for this conversation, but the way she’s eyeing me up and down like I’m prey is clue number one as to why I’m not going to get away with dragging her off anywhere.
Despite myself, I grin. There’s my sassy, spirited, confident woman that I lassoed into fake dating me back in June.
“I do.”
“And you had to fly to Korsa to tell me that right now?”
I shrug. She finally stops her circling and steps closer to me as if challenging my intentions. “We had an agreement, remember? You needed a date to this event. We even practiced a regency-style dance. How could I possibly leave you hanging out to dry?”
Lucy’s face contorts into a grimace.
