Blossom shoved her hand in my face, her finger weighted down by a rock the size of Gibraltar. A gorgeous diamond was set in a platinum band, clear and princess-cut. He had more than made up for not buying her a ring in the first place.
I squinted, pretending to shield my eyes from the glare. "Where are my sunglasses?"
Blossom laughed, happier than I had ever seen her. Slowly, the smile faded from her face. "I need to talk to you about something," she said.
"Uh-oh. Sounds serious."
"It's not a big deal, but you're probably not going to like what I have to say."
"Okay," I said, definitely worried now.
"Manuel and I have a few dances planned for our day. The wedding party has agreed to do a short dance number going into the reception, so they're working with a choreographer for the routine."
I wrinkled my nose.
"Mom, I don't care if you like the idea or not. It's my wedding."
I shrugged. I had no desire to talk her out of her plans since dancing into the reception was common practice nowadays.
"Then, of course, Manuel and I have our first dance, which will be to a salsa tune. He wants to pay homage to his Hispanic side, and we'll work with a private instructor to make sure we get the moves right."
"I'm not hearing the part where I should be worried," I said.
She clasped her hands together and looked me directly in the eyes. "We want you and Mr. Harris to take a class too."
I burst out laughing. "There is no way I'm dancing into the reception, my love. There are a lot of things I would do for you, butthatis not one of them."
"Believe me, I know you won't and that you hate the whole idea of a choreographed dance at a reception. But this is more about... skills."
I frowned. "I don't understand."
"Manuel is going to dance with his mother and then you. I'm going to dance with Dad and then Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris is not the best dancer, so we wanted him to take a class."
"What does that have to do with me?" I asked, completely confused.
"You can't dance, Mom."
My mouth fell open. "What are you talking about? I'm a great dancer."
She bit her bottom lip. "No, you're not. So we want you to take lessons too."
"Tell me you're kidding."
"It's only four nights, and?—"
"I know how to dance!" I exclaimed.
Blossom inhaled deeply and let out her breath slowly, as if trying to contain her temper. "No, you don't. Everyone in the family calls you Rhythmless Nation."
"Excuse me? Who calls me Rhythmless Nation?"
"Everybody."
"Who is everybody, Blossom?" I demanded, my voice raised.
"Now you're mad."
"I am not mad!" I yelled. I was mad. "I simply want to know who the hell in the family has been calling me Rhythmless Nation behind my back?"
