“We’re definitely going to have to fix that,” Winona says. “Stick with me. We’ll have you out about town in no time.”
I clear my throat and take a sip of water.
Hallie turns to me with mischief in her eyes. “You okay there, Greyson?”
“Fine,” I grunt out.
She smiles warmly and says, “Nice to see you,” as if we’re co-workers who just happened to bump into one another at a restaurant in town. But then she adds, “You look handsome tonight,” in that same friendly, formal tone.
Winona’s attention has turned to something Cass is saying, so I whisper, “You look incredible. You’re not playing fair.”
She whispers back, “Well, you always look incredible, so maybe this is payback.”
I pick up my glass of ice water and swallow too big of a gulp, sputter coughing the last drops.
“Careful there, soldier,” Hallie says softly.
My skin is too tight. I’m gripping my glass in one hand and my thigh with the other to keep myself from reaching out to touch her.
Dustin takes the mic. “Good evening friends and to my beautiful wife. If you haven’t had her donuts, well, fix that tomorrow by stopping by Baker From Another Mother.”
“Dustin!” Emberleigh shouts.
“Just doing my part for the people, babe.”
The crowd laughs.
“I’m going to do a little mix of some originals and a few oldies I’m sure you’ll know. And if you’re real nice, I just might throw in a request or two. I’m kicking tonight off with a song I wrote for my wife when she didn’t know she was destined to fall for me.”
More laughs. He’s really made for this.
Dustin sings with his heart—like he does everything in life.
Hallie sways to the music next to me and I try to focus on supporting my friend instead of the pang of longing pushing its way through me.
We order food. I barely touch mine. Hallie digs in and eats with her usual gusto.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She asks, pivoting in her chair to look at me.
“Yes. And no,” I answer her plainly. “I’ll get a to-go box.”
She shakes her head. “Or, you could eat.”
My stomach’s in knots. She’s right here, smelling like vanilla and … her. Swaying to the music, eating like the firefighter she is. All I want is to brush my hand down her hair, kiss her cheek, glance around the table at our friends with my arm around her shoulder.
I’ll eat later.
“If you’ve got a special someone with you,” Dustin says before one of his next songs, “You might just want to stand up wherever you are and make your own dance floor.”
Hallie turns and looks at me.
With a glance, she transports us to Munich—her in my arms, no music in the air, but something between us giving rhythm to our connection as we danced in silence before we had to say goodbye.
I inhale deeply, catching a wisp of her shampoo and perfume.
“Dancing without music,” I murmur under my breath.
She sends me a soft smile through the darkness of the restaurant. The orange and yellow of the lights fixed on Dustin illuminate her face.
