He smiled at that, but it was more of I thought so look and less a smile for warmth. He’d slid a folder across the table.
“I’ve been looking into options for your mother,” he’d said gently. “Since the hospital.”
I’d stared at it, stunned. “Why?”
“Because I think there may be better treatments and doctors for her specifically,” he said. “Switzerland. Germany. Different approaches. Different trials.”
I didn’t open it. Not then.
But I took it and filed it away in my home office, just in case.
The music shifts in the ballroom, slower now, warmer. People drift toward the bar, toward each other. I’m standing beside Elliot while Julian gets us drinks when a small boy, no more than seven, approaches me with solemn determination. He’s in a tiny tux, bowtie slightly crooked, shoes polished within an inch of their lives.
He stops in front of me and bows.
“Excuse me, my lady,” he says very seriously. “May I have this dance?”
I blink and smile at the tiny gentleman.
I glance toward the boy’s parents instinctively. They’re watching, smiling, already halfway to laughing.
“If it’s okay with them,” I say gently.
The boy turns and gives two enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Approved,” he declares.
Before I can respond, he grabs my hand and starts dragging me toward the dance floor.
I laugh, a full belly laugh, as I follow.
When we reach the edge of the dance floor, the height difference becomes obvious.
I glance down at my heels, then at him.
“Give me a second,” I say.
I slip them off and nudge them aside, but it's still not enough.
The boy looks at me thoughtfully, then grins. “You could always pick me up so we can hold each other close.”
I bark out a very unladylike laugh.
His mother hurries over, mortified. “I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you...”
“Not at all,” I say quickly. “Do you mind?”
She smiles. “Not at all, it would make his year. The poor boy has been watching you all night.”
"Moooooooommmmm." The boy groans.
I laugh and scoop him up easily. He wraps his arms around my neck in a fierce little hug, chattering away about school, that he's named after his grandfather, that he has a baby sister cooking in the oven that he can't see yet, and that this is the best party ever.
And then I feel it, that awareness. I glance up, and Julian is watching me.
Not casually.
Not politely.
