The room erupts.
Robyn and Ridge walk out into the light, and he pulls her in, one hand spread across her back, and they begin to move. She’s glowing. He’s looking down at her like she hung every star in the sky and a few extra just for him. He murmurs something to her, and she smiles up at him.
It’s magical to watch.
It also aches. Right in the center of my chest, a deep, hollow pull of longing.
I want that. I want what they have.
I look over at Magma.
A second or two later, he locks eyes with me, and my heart kicks up a few notches. The air seizes inside me.
I will for him to see my feelings. To feel them. It’s silly, but I do it anyway.
Looking at this man is like staring at the sun. I have to look away before I burn up.
I make myself smile, and then I make myself turn back to Ridge and Robyn, back to where it’s safe. I drink more of my cocktail. It’s going down far too easily, and I let it.
The song winds to a close. Ridge kisses Robyn to a wave of applause, and a vibey tune starts playing. People flock to the dance floor.
I glance back at the bar a minute later.
Magma and Brook are laughing at something, and then he takes her hand and leads her onto the dance floor.
They look so happy.
Great. Wonderful. Good for them.
I take another sip.
There are plenty of people out there now. Cath is dragging her heels off by the edge of the floor, and Britt and Tom are shaking their asses as well. Flint is in the thick of it.
“Do you want to dance?” Malachite asks.
I want to go home and crawl under the covers, but I’m not doing that.
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s dance.”
I take a big glug of my Cosmo for liquid courage, put the glass down, and let Malachite lead me out by the hand.
The beat is good, and dancing has never been my problem. I find the rhythm and let it carry me, and Malachite grins like he won a prize. For about thirty glorious seconds, it works. I’m just a woman at a wedding, dancing with a handsome male, having fun.
Then Brook looks over at me and smiles.
I smile back, because I promised myself I would be nice to her.
She turns back to Magma and gets right up in his space. Her arms go around his neck. Her body presses against his, hip to hip, moving with the music. She’s dancing like a woman staking a claim.
Jealousy floods me, hot and green and ugly.
Holy shit.
I have no right to it. None. He is not mine.
Malachite puts his arms around me and pulls me in.
I let him.
