"Only if you are." My response seemed to take her by surprise, her mouth falling partially open.
"I do plan to return. I don't want to embarrass my daughter at her wedding."
"I don't want to embarrass my son, but that won't be the reason for my return on Thursday."
"What will be the reason?" Her eyebrows came together.
"My dance partner. So I'll see you on Thursday."
"Yes, you will."
She bit her bottom lip like she had done when we were upstairs dancing and she was concentrating really hard. But this time it wasn't because she was concentrating. She was trying to hide the smile creeping into the corners of her mouth.
"Good night, Jamison."
"Good night, Tallulah." It was the first time I had said her first name out loud, and a spark lit in her eyes. I have to admit, I liked the way her name sounded on my lips.
After she climbed into the car, I backed away and walked to my own vehicle, lighter and more alive than when I had arrived. Rather than pessimistic dread, optimism flooded my veins.
Because despite knowing Tallulah was the opposite of the kind of woman I believed I needed in my life, I looked forward to seeing her again. I looked forward to holding her again.
I looked forward to what was happening between us.
Chapter 17
Tallulah
"Well done!" Carmen clapped, beaming proudly as the music came to an end. "You are ready."
Jamison and I smiled at each other. We, along with the rest of the class, had danced the waltz one final time. Every time he spun me around and I stepped back into his arms, it was like tiptoeing across clouds.
As we said good night to our instructor and the rest of the students, a quiet sadness settled inside me. In a short time, I had come to enjoy our routine and become friendly with my fellow classmates.
Jamison and I were better dancers than when we began, but after tonight, I would no longer be spending time with him.
We filed out of the studio and slowly walked through the parking lot.
"Good night!" everyone called.
We waved, and they waved back.
As he had done three other times before, Jamison escorted me to my vehicle.
"Well, here you are," he announced, stopping beside my car door.
"Yes, here we are," I said, gazing up at him.
Somewhere between missed steps and shared laughs, it dawned on me that he and I weren't as different as I had originally believed. We came in different packaging but shared the same priorities regarding our families, and we were stubbornly devoted to the children we adored. We both had marital scars and carried the invisible weight of marriages that hadn't lasted, making us more careful as a result.
"I hope my son appreciates all the work I put in to make him look good," Jamison said.
"I hope my daughter appreciates all the work I put in too."
An awkward pause rested between us, and we both looked around the parking lot, searching for a topic we could pluck out of the air.
My chest became unbearably heavy, as if someone had set a stone on my sternum. I didn't expect such intense emotions on the last night, as if we were leaving something unfinished. In a way, we were. The night of our first class, he had hinted at his interest, and though he had continued being flirty and friendly, he hadn't made a move on me in the past week.
I wanted him to, and I wanted to spend more time with him.
