My heart is aching so bad by the time they come close enough for me to hear what Kimberly’s saying. They’re not exactly next to my table, but Kimberly’s voice is just so...bright that it easily carries over the crowd.
"We've been spending a lot of time together," she's saying, and that sentence is performing Olympic-level gymnastics. "He's been showing me around. Teaching me about racing. It's been—" She laughs. Touches his arm for the 22nd time. "It's been wonderful."
The woman from the bank looks between them with interest. "Oh, how lovely! And will you be staying in Jackson Hole long, Mr. Aleotti?"
“It hasn’t been decided yet.”
Kimberly’s the one who says this, and the fact that he’s letting her answer on his behalf...
I just don’t understand what’s happening, God.
Please.
Please help me understand.
The woman from the bank smiles at Santino. "I hope you’ve been enjoying our little town while you’re here.”
“Oh, he is.” And for some reason, Kimberly looks at me while she says this. “I’m making sure of it.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I see him again.
He's walking back toward my table. Alone this time. No Kimberly attached to his arm. Just him in that dark jacket with snow starting to fall again, dusting his shoulders.
He's coming straight toward me.
No, no, no.
He reaches the table. Stops. Doesn't say anything at first. Just looks at me with an expression I can't read.
"Hot cider?" I ask, because apparently when faced with emotional complexity, my brain defaults to customer service.
"No. Thank you." His voice is quiet. Formal. "I would like to speak with you."
"I'm—”
“No, actually, forget that.”
Okaaaay.
“What I’d like instead is for you to dance with me.”
Uh...what?
"Dance with me, Thea.”
I square my shoulders, intending to turn him down, but Jolie suddenly shows up—
This is bad.
“I’ll take over,” my friend offers with a beam. “Go ahead and have fun.”
Why is she siding with him all the time? Like, seriously. Can’t she see how much I’m hurting?
I still intend to put my foot down...but it’s no use. These two are unstoppable as a team, and the next thing I know, Jolie already has my apron inherhand while Santino is takingmyhand and...it’s suddenly so, so hard to breathe, with his warm fingers closing around mine.
I can feel people watching—and Kimberlyhasto be one of them since I can also feel someone shooting visual daggers at my back—as Santino’s other hand finds my waist. I should probably pull away or worry about all the attention we’re attracting.
But...here’s the thing.
