I’m not fighting anymore. Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them down. From the sniffles and swiping of cheeks around the room, I know I’m not the only one. I’m completely mesmerized by what Christian is saying.
“My mom actually passed quietly in her sleep the day after Christmas. Nobody knew it was going to happen. Sometimes it still feels like a dream. In a way it was a gift. I didn’t have to say a final goodbye. My last memory of her is her last Christmas night as she was watching me while I opened my expected Lego set. I looked up at my dad, eager to thank him. He had done all the work to provide for us that magical Christmas, and he definitely deserved the credit.He wasn’t even watching me.His eyes were locked onMomwatching me. I was only thirteen, but I was not offended that I wasn’t getting his attention. My dad couldn’t take his eyes off my mom as she glowed with joy.” Christian blinks as if remembering he wasn’t alone. “To answer your question, I don’t know much about love, but I’d never settle for anything less than that.”
Tears flood down my face, and my heart pounds in my chest, melting all the previous bad thoughts I’d ever had for Christian. My dad always told me that hurt peoplehurtpeople. He isexactly as Arielle had said. He has a shield, and after hearing that display of his parents’ love, and then losing his mom at such a young age. How could he not?
The room is dead silent, except for almost everyone sniffing behind me. "That's what I want for us," Christian tacks on with his gaze locked on me. It’s so intense a sonic boom explodes in my heart as he places a hand on my hip. This is all going on in front of everyone! All these strangers don't have a clue that Christianisn’tmy real boyfriend. They assume we’re dating. Christian flashes me a heart-stopping smile that is totally not a typical gaze for us. Shoot, that gaze isn’t my usual gaze for anyone. My heart constricts, thumping hard against my ribcage. My chest becomes an echo chamber, expanding each thump to echo in my ears.
I’m swooning!
Flattening my palm against my chest in a feeble attempt to calm the thumping, I’m about to start fanning myself as my cheeks glow so warm I feel like I’m tanning. All eyes are on me, and everyone is waiting.
This feels like one of those cheesy movies where the couple is caught declaring their love, only we’re not even a couple. I open my mouth to say something, but I’m stuck. I’m not an actress! I can’t improvise this stuff. Plus, my heart is still motoring away, and it’s all I can do to stare back at Christian as he fawns back at me.
“That settles it!” Pappi declares, raising his hand. My eyes pull back to him, and even Pappi has tears streaming down his face. “You have my blessing.”
Christian and I crack a smile at the same time. Not a humorous one, but a secret one. I turn back to Pappi. “Thank you, Pappi. I wasn’t sure when I first met him, but now I know he’s one of the good ones.”
“Time for you to take this girl dancing,” Pappi asserts in a celebratory way. His facial expression has morphed from that sullen and dull gaze I had first seen to one that exudes life. “Cue the music. Everybody polka!”
A niggling in the back of my mind says what we’re doing isn’t right. Is it too much to want to add a little joy to his life? Even if it is, I’m not going to take that from him now.
I check back at Christian, hiking an inquiring brow. “Do you want to dance?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he chimes back, his eyes steel on me, as if I’m his whole world. He’s clearly still acting like my boyfriend for Pappi’s sake.
I swallow as a lump buds in my throat, but it’s nothing I can’t ignore. What are we getting into? I don’t have time to ponder as a polka blasts through the ceiling speakers. Christian wraps an arm around my shoulders and whisks me to the dance floor. The cozy little floor fills with couples who are mostly at least double, if not triple, our age. We follow their lead, holding our hands, extending them out. “Ah, problem.” I’m smiling because the music has already lightened the somber mood of the room. “I have no idea what a polka is.”
“It’s basically a hopping two-step. I go to the left, it’s your right.” Christian starts slow, as he waits for me to catch on.
“And you know this how?” I hop twice and stop, forgetting to come back on the return, but Christian adjusts, waiting for me.
“Lots of Saturday nights with my grandma.” He lifts his arm above his head, pulling me. “Let me guide you.”
Chuckling, I traipse over his feet as I complete what I think is supposed to be a twirl. “You better not dip me,” I joke. “Anything that takes me off both feet will cause you great suffering.”
“Trust me, after the fall down the subway, I’ve been babying my back all week.” He pulls my arms up, and I spin again. Werepeat this pattern until the music is over, with me stomping on at least one of his feet at least every other spin.
“Sorry.” I giggle through a wince as the music transitions to another song, and we break apart, heading off the dance floor. “I should have warned you that I don’t polka.”
“Clearly, you should have disclosed that on your job application.”
Enjoying the sarcasm, I run my mouth. “I’m sorry to say, but I had every intention of deceiving you.”
“I knew it all along.” Playfully pointing an accusing finger at me, his voice turns serious. “What else have you been deceiving me about?”
“Oh.” I rack my brain, digging for something witty, as I recall our rough start. Not wanting to lose my comedic timing, I rush to banter back, “Maybe I was only pretending to hate you, because I actually like you.”
What did I just spew out!
Halting my feet, my eyes swell as my words ring back through my ears. My insides ice over, and I beg my mouth to take back my words—or spout off something funny—but nothing comes up my vocal cords.
It was a joke! I beg my mouth to say, but it won’t listen.
In a rush to be funny, I didn’t think how that would sound. Christian tilts his head toward me with an intense gaze thatmelts my feet to the floor!It’s that look couples have at the moment everything changes, and I feel it reverberate all the way to my toes.
Bringing his chin down, he hovers his gaze intensely on mine. “Portia, did you mean that?”
“No,” I spit out, tacking on, “Yes. I mean, maybe. Do you?”
