1
MATTIE
Seven months ago, Sydney
The bass pounding through the loudspeakers reverberated through Mattie's bones, rattling every organ in her body.
She groaned. "Remind me again why we are in a nightclub instead of having dinner at Esteban's?"
"Because celebrating a girl's twenty-third birthday in a restaurant is boring." Gwyneth raised her glass. "To Adele! The one, the only, the fabulous!" she shouted over the music.
"Fabulous!" Mattie echoed, clinking her whiskey sour against her friends' drinks.
Adele shook her head, her dark, artfully styled curls bouncing. "I can't believe you dragged me here, but I'm glad you did. I needed bad drinks and loud music after breaking up with him, he who shall not be named."
Gwyneth wrapped her arm around Adele's shoulders. "You said you're feeling old, and that's not how you should feel tonight. Twenty-three means dancing until your feet hurt and making questionable decisions."
"I make plenty of those." Adele laughed. "Just look at my list of exes."
Her last ex had a restaurant at the Westfield Sydney, where the three of them worked. If Adele wanted to avoid bumping into him, she would need to find a job somewhere else, which was unthinkable.
The highlight of their workdays was meeting for lunch at the food court.
Gwyneth motioned at the nearly full glass in Mattie's hand. "Drink up. You're too sober and too quiet."
"You are making enough noise for the three of us." Mattie took another sip.
The whiskey sour was sweet, tart, and warming, loosening the tension she carried in her shoulders. Crowds made her nervous, and a packed club was an absolute nightmare, but despite the crowd and despite the excruciating noise level, she was going to do her best to at least appear as if she was having fun at her friend's birthday celebration.
As the music changed to something softer and more melodic, easing the assault on her eardrums, Mattie sighed in relief and turned to watch several couples gravitate toward the dance floor.
She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the carefree ease with which their bodies moved. She used to love dancing, but that wasbefore her legs had become a map of scar tissue and damaged muscle.
Now her dance moves would be awkward at best.
The fire that had claimed the lives of her parents had miraculously spared her, and she often wondered whether it was so she could do something great, something meaningful, something that would save many lives or at least improve them.
A small voice in the back of her head whispered that she was just looking for a way out from under the devastating guilt. That she rationalized having been spared by convincing herself she was meant to do something important. That God, or the universe, or whatever higher power was in charge, had a mission for her.
"Hello, ladies." The voice coming from her left was smooth and confident.
Mattie turned to find a man standing beside her, tall and dark-haired, with the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover. High cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that were somewhere between green and gold in the shifting club lights.
"Would you like to dance?" He flashed her a charming smile and offered her his hand as if she had already said yes.
Mattie hesitated. Ever since her injury, dancing with any measure of grace was impossible. This handsome guy saw her pretty face, her long blond hair, and her blue eyes, and thought that she was sitting alone with her friends and waiting for Prince Charming to arrive and sweep her off her feet. But when her uneven gait betrayed her and she limped, he would be disappointed with his choice, regretting that he hadn't asked Gwyneth or Adele to dance with him instead.
It wouldn't be the first time that a guy changed his mind after realizing that only half of her was beautiful.
She should politely decline, say something about tired feet or too much alcohol making her unsteady, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. The whiskey sour dulled her inhibitions, and she hadn't danced with a guy in forever, and this one was so incredibly good-looking.
Mattie smiled at him. "I'm not a good dancer," she warned him.
"Neither am I." He took her hand. "We can be terrible together and stomp on everyone's toes."
She laughed. "Alright. One dance, and please try to steer away from unsuspecting feet."
"Can't make any promises." He helped her up.
