Fleeting looks and soft smiles are the only things that pass between us as the music plays. I’m halfway curled up in the kitchen chair, one leg folded vertically against my torso and my hands wrapped around my steaming mug. Outside, the watery gray light of dawn seeps into the sky.
Everything is calm, slow,right. The whirlwind of constant fear and anxiety that’s been plaguing my mind for years has slowed to something strangely resembling peace.
One song fades into another, a mellow beat making way for slow acoustic guitar. Ambrose flashes me an unreadable look, rises from his seat, steps around the table, and offers me his hand.
“May I have this dance?” That familiar half-smile lifts his lips, but it’s not a sarcastic expression this time; it’s an earnest, almost vulnerable one.
I lower my half-empty coffee mug to the table and take his hand, smiling as I stand. “You may.”
The hardwood floor is cold beneath my bare feet, and myheart skips a beat when Ambrose’s eyes stay locked on my face. All the intensity from earlier has shifted into something softer but no less significant.
He pulls me in with a gentle touch. One hand settles at the small of my back, and the other cradles mine. We’re only inches apart, yet it still feels like too much space between us.
We sway to the music, and Ambrose spins me once before pulling me back into him. This time, he rests his hands on my hips, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Unable to resist, I lean my head against his chest and close my eyes, losing myself in his warmth and the comfort of his touch. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, and something in my heart cracks open.
I shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t love the feel of his arms wrapped around my waist and his heart beating against my ear, but I do.
Ambrose’s chest vibrates as he hums along to the tune about pale blue eyes, and we sway together, lost in the music. Time itself seems to hold its breath. This isn’t like when we danced at the masquerade. There, the moment was belied with an undercurrent of tension from both of us, along with our awareness of being watched. Here, it’s only us, pressed together in a moment of reverie, with the sunrise cresting the horizon outside and bathing us in beams of yellow-orange light that filters through the windows.
My heart swells in my chest, and tears prick at my eyes. I don’t quite understand why. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like I’m bracing for anything anymore, like I’m free to simply exist without fear of pain or retribution. Or maybe it’s the way he holds me like I mean something to him. Like I’m loved and cherished and important.
He’s still the same man, but tonight, it’s as if his finallayers are peeling away and he’s allowing me to truly see him for who he is.
At the same time, I’m nothing like the version of me that he met—well, watched—all those months ago. I was desperate and afraid, making myself small to fit into someone else’s idea of perfect, even though I knew deep down it would never be good enough. Now, I’m embracing the unknown and pushing myself to become someone who makes a difference, who challenges her fears rather than embracing them.
A profound sense of belonging envelops me, and I tilt my head up to face Ambrose.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask.
He thinks before answering. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“I don’t know… sometimes I just wonder. It’s hard to believe that life is just a chaotic sequence of random decisions, so sometimes it’s nice to think that things were meant to be.”
Ambrose’s dark eyes pierce straight to my soul before he pulls me tight against his body. “It’s a romantic idea, that fate brought us together in this twisted way. But does it not mean more that we chose this in spite of all the odds against us?”
My first instinct is to argue that Ididn’tchoose this, but I don’t want to lose this moment we’re suspended in. He’s partly right, though. I may not have chosen to get stuck here, but I’m choosing to spend time with him, choosing to dance with him in the early morning light, choosing to let my defenses down with every day that passes.
I can’t pretend any longer that I’m not in awe of him, that I don’t care for him, that he’s not on my mind more often than I care to admit.
But regardless of the sheer terror that comes with lowering my defenses, I can’t resist his pull any longer.
CHAPTER 34
The song fades into the next, but neither of us pulls away. As soon as we part, this moment will end. And right now, I wish that time would stop entirely, leave us suspended here in the almosts and maybes.
How did we get here? I wonder, but I don’t care enough to dwell on it. The how doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way he holds me so tightly that it heals something in me that I didn’t realize was broken, the way we fit so perfectly together when we couldn’t be more different.
I lift my head to look up at him, like I want to make sure he’s real, and his chin tilts down so he can meet my gaze. The golden light of the sunrise illuminates the space around us, only serving to pull me deeper into this surreal moment.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“You,” I answer. “Us.”
His expression remains the same, but the hitch in his breath gives away that he cares more about that one word than he’s letting on.Us.
“Care to elaborate?”
How could I possibly explain the whirlwind of emotionsflooding my heart? Putting into words what I’m feeling would be nearly impossible.
