“Mm-hmm.” I pull her closer to me. “This song,” I muse, drawing out the anticipation, “makes me think of Trello Park.”
“Trello Park?” she asks flatly. “We’ve played dozens of songs there.”
“Shh. I’m not finished.”
Paige gives me an annoyed look.
“This song makes me think of when we hugged each other in my basement after we got our acceptance letters to college.”
Paige’s steps slow as she looks up at me curiously, annoyed expression gone.
“This song,” I continue, “makes me think of the way you fell asleep on my lap when we were cramming for finals our junior year.”
I dip my head next to her ear and am enveloped by Paige’s soft coconut scent. “This song is the way you make people feel like they’re the most important person in the room. This song is the way you can’t resist a cheesy pun. This song is the way your voice goes up two octaves when you’re on the phone with yourparents. And this song is the way your smile is the only thing that makes me feel better after a rough day.”
When I pull back, Paige’s eyes are glossy. She takes her hands out of mine to loop them both around my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her into me. Unlike the other couples on the dance floor, Paige and I leave no space between us as we hold onto each other, barely moving.
I tilt my face into Paige’s hair, breathing her in, when I feel her fingers softly play with the hair at the base of my head. Her hands dance along my neck, lighting me up inside with every brush of her skin against mine. But the sensation is quickly wiped away by a familiar fear budding inside me with every boundary we’re crossing tonight.
Too quickly, the song ends, and a couple leaving the dance floor accidentally brushes against us, breaking us apart.
When Paige and I move into one another again, she looks up at me with bright eyes and a beaming smile.
Don’t ruin her life, Jordan, the voice in my head tells me.
I lean into Paige, trying to extinguish my fears with the warmth I feel from her nearness.
You’ve already held your mom back—don’t do that to Paige. She doesn’t deserve it.The intensity in those few words hits me as forcefully as water blasting from a fire hydrant.
My body tenses under Paige’s arms.
“We should talk, Jordan,” Paige whispers.
I want to agree. I want to tell her that she means everything to me. But my mouth is frozen. I’m in one of those dreams where all I want to do is run, but my legs are stuck in place. I think through all the things I know. I know I can’t let her go. I know I want us. I know I can’t be without her. And if I want that, I need to let her in.
But even as I think it, years of protective instincts for Paige consume me, and the words I want so badly to say get sifted through my fears and overanalyzed by my brain.
Suddenly, the room is too hot. I step back from Paige, and her hands drop to her sides. “Sorry. I… I think I need some air.” I tug at my bow tie, and in a blur, I take Paige’s hand and lead her to where Missy stands talking to one of her cousins on the outskirts of the ballroom floor.
I turn and make for the exit, accidentally bumping into a couple who end up spilling their drinks on the floor. I apologize as I frantically head toward an exit and into a hallway that leads to an outside terrace.
Once outside, I pull my bow tie free from my neck, shoving it in my pants pocket, and grip the railing, ducking my head as I breathe in crisp mountain air.
Not long afterward, I hear the doors to the terrace open behind me, and the bottom of Paige’s green-silk dress comes into view.
She rests her back against the railing so she faces me and gently places her hand on my forearm. “Jordan. Please, what are you not telling me?”
One look into Paige’s beautiful eyes reminds me that she is my soft place to land. Even though I’ve never fully opened up to her, I know that with Paige, I’m never alone. The feeling wells inside me, breaking the dam of pent-up thoughts and feelings. And before I know it, I’m telling her things I’ve never told anyone before.
Chapter 26
PAIGE
I listen as Jordan tells me pieces of his life I’ve never heard. He tells me about his mom, the assembly, her missed appointment, her diagnosis, his guilt.
His face is solemn as he stares straight into the night sky. An entire city of lights glitters beneath us, but Jordan does not see them. He’s in another time, reliving a kind of pain that grows and festers—and changes a person’s life.
In the months since Jordan and I reconnected after college, I always thought Jordan’s care for his strong and capable mother far surpassed what his mom actually needed. I never understood why he was so intense.
