He presses his lips together, remaining silent.
I leave it at that, deciding not to press him any further. We’re not on firm enough ground for me to delve into the man behind the facade yet. He’s only managed to confuse me more than I already am with his break in character. We continue to dance until the last note of the music. The applause of the crowd breaks the spell, and Art drops my hands and steps away from me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Ma’am.”
Walking back to the table, I gather my belongings and wait for Clara and Amanda to rejoin me. They’re lingering on the dance floor, greeting the band and taking a few photos. My attention travels to the two protection officers shadowing them.
They stand at a respectful distance, chatting amongst themselves,yet stay alert at the same time, like lions guarding their pride, ready to pounce the moment the wind shifts. Art isn’t with them. I don’t need to turn to know he’s probably standing behind me, trying to blend in with the wall. That’s where I’d be.
Growing up, there was always a security team around me, but I never paid them much mind. It’s like living in a room with brightly-colored wallpaper—you grow immune to their presence and forget they’re there.
Bruce, however, changed all that. He was the first officer I had who was willing to be a friend in addition to being my bodyguard. I began to see the security team as people and not just names and faces. In time, I can only hope that’s how my relationship with my new team will be.
On the way home,I bring Amanda and Clara up to speed on how my night went.
“It was interesting, but it’s not something I see myself doing again anytime soon.” I try and keep my wording as diplomatic as possible. I enjoyed the parts of the evening where I could catch up with the girls, but talking to my partners involved too much interaction with other people for my liking.
“I know it wasn’t your cup of tea, but still, I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there,” Amanda gushes.
“Thanks,” I murmur. I’m proud of myself too. Over the past few months, I’ve made big strides from being the girl who couldn’t wait to escape the UK to becoming a woman who has some confidence and is able to attend events like this. But I know I still have a long way to go. Rebuilding who I am is not a sprint. It’s a marathon.
“By my count, I consider tonight a win. You danced with. ..” Amanda reviews the tally in her note app. “A dozen different partners, and three of them twice. Give me the lowdown. Is there anyone who made an impression with you who might be date worthy?”
“You kept count?” My jaw drops. I’m partially annoyed, but also partially happy she was keeping an eye on me.
“Itoldyou not to tell her. You sound like a crazed stalker.” Clara sniggers.
“I had a bet going with Eddie. He thought you’d only manage to find five partners.”
“And how many did you guess?” Clara asks.
“Ten.” A smug smile appears on her lips. “Princey is going to owe me home-cooked breakfast in bed for a week!”
“My brother can’t cook unless you count burned toast or microwaving Pot Noodles.”
“Oh, he can manage a few dishes.” Amanda winks. “He started getting lessons from me when we first began dating. He can make pancakes, beans on toast, sausages, and eggs for breakfast. But his specialty is grilling. He makes a mean steak.”
“Impressive.” I appraise her with a newfound respect. Who knew Eddie had it in him. Until he met Amanda, there was no way he would’ve ever set foot in the kitchen, unless it was to ask his chef to prepare something for him. She’s changed him for the better.
Amanda is hands down one of the most talented self-taught bakers I’ve ever met. She’d be a shoo-in to win the celebrity edition ofTheBritish Baking Championshipif she ever decided to enter. It’s one of the few telly shows we watch religiously whenever a new series drops.
“Anyway, enough about Princey. Tell me aboutyou.Did you meet anyone interesting or who stood out?” she asks.
Strangely, my mind jumps to my last dance with Art. He’s the one person I danced with where it didn’t feel forced. I can still feel his strong arms holding me up, and the easy side-to-side rocking motion. My fingers run over my forearms where he held me as a few goosebumps appear.
I frown. He doesn’t count. Art was only doing his job.Focus.Who was the least irritating guy tonight? A few faces flash through my mind. “Out of everyone, the only bloke I’d seriously consider a contender is Eric, the accountant who resembled David Beckham.”
We danced together twice. He was one of the only partners who took the time to listen to the responses to the questions he asked me. When I said I wasn’t overly big on sports, he moved on from the topic.He also knew about horses. Having a common language made for an easy and natural conversation.
“Dark hair, tattoo sleeves, and a lean, mean body?” Amanda asks.
“I don’t know about the tattoos, but yes, he was fit.” I focus on pulling my boots off my feet and rub my aching arches.
“That’s Eric Walsh.” She snaps her fingers together. “He’d be a good match for you. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s reserved, but opens up once you get a chance to know him.”
“And you know all this how?” Clara cocks her head to the side.
