The place was bustling, filled with Independence Day revelers, some dressed in costumes ranging from Mickey Mouse to Darth Vader, making the atmosphere light. People smiled, hugged, and generally looked like they were having an awesome time, which helped Max stop thinking about the fact that he was nursing a Pepsi and not a shot of something stronger. Not that he'd thought about it all that much. In truth, all night his mind had been on one particular woman on the dance floor, looking spectacular as she lifted her arms and sang ABBA at the top of her lungs. He smiled. Max was certainly seeing another side to Grace. With each drink she consumed, she became chattier, more tactile, and a lot flirtier. She was definitely testing Max's resolve, but he found himself enjoying her attentions.
"She's a pretty girl."
Max looked from the dancing to his uncle and back again. "Don't start."
His uncle chuckled and moved closer. "Who's starting?"
Max snorted. "It's not like that between us." He saw his uncle in his periphery, nodding as he drank from his beer glass. "We're friends."
"She doesn't look at you like you're just her friend, Max."
Max turned to look at the man at his side, his smile fading at the cautious tone in his uncle's voice. He wasn't exactly sure what Uncle Vince's words made him feel, but there was definitely a pinch of something that felt suspiciously like panic at the base of his neck.
"Look," Uncle Vince continued, turning to face the bar instead of the dance floor, shoulder to shoulder with Max. "I don't wanna know what's going on between you two. It's not my business. You look happy together, friends or more. I just want to make sure that she treats you right. That shit there is my business."
Max blinked. "Treats me right?" He barked a laugh. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"
His uncle didn't answer with anything other than a pointed look. "You're fragile, Max. You hide it well, but I can see it because I've known you since your daddy put you in my arms when you were two days old." Max shuffled uncomfortably while his uncle glanced back toward the dance floor. "She cares for you, but so did Lizzie." Max swallowed hard, his throat tight. "All's I'm saying is be careful, son. Don't lose yourself in something you're not ready for. Wouldn't be fair on either of you."
Max nodded. "It's all good," he assured his uncle. "Honestly. We both know where we stand. I'll be careful."
Uncle Vince placed a large hand on Max's shoulder and squeezed. "That's all I wanted to hear."
A collection of excited squeals had the two men's heads snapping back to the dance floor as the familiar opening bars of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" filled the club. Well, Max thought, as the girls started jumping around even more, at least this song was an improvement on the shit that had been played since they arrived. In fact, he had this particular song on vinyl. It had been his mom's. His dad had told him once that, while she was pregnant with him, Max's mom would listen to it at least once a day, singing and stroking her baby bump. He was sure that somewhere in his apartment back in New York, he had a photograph that his dad had given him of her doing it.
The small smile that pulled at his lips at the memory grew wider when he saw Grace dancing, well, jumping toward him. She looked ridiculously endearing, all wide eyes and hair flying about. And the dress? Yeah, the dress was still fucking tremendous. Max had noticed the lingering stares it coaxed from the other guys in the bar but tried his best to ignore the shameless flash of possessiveness that streaked through him. His stink-eye was enough to keep those dipshits at bay.
"Come and dance!" she shouted above the music when she reached him, just as Marvin Gaye sang about remembering the day. Before Max could answer, Grace grabbed his hand and started swinging it from side to side, miming the words and bopping like a damn rabbit from foot to foot.
Unable to resist her happy face and happier dancing, Max lifted his arm so she could twirl beneath it. She beamed. "My love is alive way down in my heart!" she sang loudly while wiggling her ass.
It took a moment for Max to realize that he was dancing, too, just a little, rocking from one foot to the other. Once again Grace's infectious spirit had yanked him away from any worries that his uncle may have had, any temptations and melancholy memories. Throwing caution to the wind and losing himself in the chorus of his mother's favorite song, he wrapped an arm around Grace's waist, gripped her free hand in the other, and began dancing-silly dancing-with her. He tipped her backward, swayed her from side to side, and twirled her some more. Her loud laugh filled the room over the music as he did and, whether he realized it or not, slowly crept into the deep, cold recesses of Max's heart.