"Thank you," she says.
I take her hand. Her fingers curl around mine.
We walk out together.
Downstairs, the hotel has been completely transformed. String lights are draped through the trees, glowing soft against the darkening sky. The ballroom is already full—guests in formal wear, champagne glasses catching the light, a quartet playing something slow and classical in the corner.
We move through the crowd. My arm settles around Sam's waist. Her hand rests on my shoulder. It feels instinctive. Like we've been doing this for years.
"This way," I murmur, guiding her toward the terrace doors.
She follows without question.
***
A slow song starts.
I pull her toward the dance floor instead.
"Tom—"
"Come on." My hand settles at the small of her back. "One dance."
She steps into me.
Her palm presses against my shoulder. Her fingers, pale against the dark navy of my suit, curl into the fabric. My hand slides over the bright emerald green silk at her waist.
We sway.
The silk of her dress is warm under my hand. I can feel each breath she takes. The rise and fall of her ribs.
The music softens around us. The crowd blurs.
Her fingers slide up to the back of my neck. Thread into my hair.
"I'm more used to your hair being a bit wilder," she says. Her voice is low. "But I have to admit, this version of you is growing on me."
I tighten my hand at her waist.
Pull her closer.
Our temples brush, close enough that her next breath warms my cheek.
The heat of her palm burns through my jacket. My thumb presses into the fabric at her back.
"Normally I'm not a big fan of lipstick," I say. My eyes drop to her mouth. "But that shade... it looks good on you."
The crowd closes around us, but she’s the only thing I can focus on.
I pull her closer still. Close enough that I can feel her heartbeat against my chest.
I press a small kiss just above her temple.
"I like seeing you with your hair down like this," I murmur.
She pulls back. Just enough to look at me.
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Literally or figuratively?"
