“Of course not,” I concede. I can’t reason with Erin under normal circumstances, let alone deal with special wedding-day blackmail.
“Come on, Ciara’s waiting for you,” she says and gives me a wink, smiling at me with satisfaction. I sure as hell hope that she’s not…
Oh Jesus, is this already in the public arena?
“And keep your hands where I can see ’em!” Patrick says, pointing a finger at me. And even though I know he’s joking it takes off five, maybe seven years of my life maintaining eye contact with him and digging up some semblance of a smile.
I cross the floor where an embarrassed Ciara is nervously waiting for her prince. She’s biting her lip and I give her a forced smile, and make a silent appeal to my self control not to abandon me and to not let me fall into another panic attack right now, because that’s what it feels like is going to happen.
I touch her hand and bring it to my shoulder while the other gently squeezes her waist, drawing her slightly closer to me.
I keep my eyes downcast because if I were to look at her now I swear I wouldn’t be able to do anything else for the rest of my life.
Look at her, admire her and… love her.
Wherever you are… Well, know that I adore you.
My God, I’ve never asked you for anything and I’ve publicly declared on more than one occasion that I do not believe in you. Let this be the moment you make me eat it—please show me that I was wrong.
And if ever you need someone… Well, not that you need helping… But if ever you want someone… I know that I am willing.
I breathe.
I look up.
And give in.
Oh, and I don’t want to change you… I don’t want to change you… I don’t want to change your mind.
Ciara is simply marvelous, so sincere and utterly transparent that I can read everything in those big eyes of hers. I recognize the sentiment because I feel it too, on my skin and in my heart.
For her.
Because she’s wonderful and I ask myself how I didn’t realize it before now.
Unaware, I hold her waist tighter and draw her closer to me, resting my forehead against hers and her warm breath is like a caress on my lips, which I bite to avoid total collapse, to not rush towards her mouth right here in front of everyone and starting a civil war at this wedding party.
I close my eyes and forget about the world.
I don’t think about Patrick who could choke me any second. I don’t think about the people who are no longer with us. I don’t think about the one who abandoned me. I don’t think about family problems.
I close my eyes and let myself go.
To her.
I give myself this moment, for me, and for her. This nearness, this sweetness.
I close my eyes and allow myself to dream, just for three minutes—the duration of this song—that she and I could have a future together, that this love that I feel is healthy and right, that it won’t lead to our mutual destruction and inevitable harm that we will cause each other.
I permit myself this little fantasy, just one, cradled in the music and her breath that infuses with mine.
I can dream.
Just this once.
