“You’re hard to hate.”
She taps her glass against mine. “He called me by the way.”
I turn to look at her. She’s glowing and happy, a secret hidden in her smile. “Should I be worried?”
“No, everything is perfect.” She seems to be referencing the reception, but I know better.
Looking past the dance floor, I spot Dalton across the room, sitting at a table with a group of kids. They’re totally engrossed in some story that involves his arms going out like there’s a large explosion. The best part is he’s equally engrossed in the story, which makes me smile. “You should eat,” I suggest to Tracy. “Can I make you a plate of food?”
“I’m good. I’ve been snacking, but you go ahead.”
I walk to the buffet and get in line. It moves along slowly, but I’m not in a hurry. I start placing appetizers on my plate, mainly going for cheese and fruit. I’m reaching for the Swiss when I feel someone press against my arm, and say, “You look beautiful.” I freeze, my heart skipping a beat or five just from hearing his voice again. Like I missed him, I’ve missed his voice, and my shoulders drop as I exhale, all my willpower escaping me with that breath. Three words are all it took. Three words, and like my heart always knew, I am his again. That easy. What we share that powerful. Our hearts bonded even when our bodies weren’t.
When I dare to look into his eyes, Dalton’s expression is lighter than the last time we spoke, his mood playful. It’s a good look on him. He’s tanner, appears healthier. His smile is different, less damaged. It’s been four weeks and I should probably be offended and hurt we haven’t spoken, but it’s hard to stay mad at the man you love. Time heals and all that… With a gentle nudge to his ribs, I say, “Fancy seeing a rock star at my best friend’s wedding.”
I continue moving down the buffet line loading my plate.
“I’m more Jack than Johnny these days.” Dalton stays close to my side, but leaves a little distance I wish he wouldn’t.
“You look good, Jack.”
“Dalton,” he says with a little smile that feels special, like one only I can evoke. “You are only allowed to call me Dalton.”
“You look good, Dalton.”
His smile grows. “I spent a week in Hawaii.” He runs his hand through his hair then shoves it in his pocket.
“Any new tattoos?”
He looks down at his arm, his sleeves are rolled up, but not enough to show the hula girl. With a light chuckle, he says, “No. A few drunken nights… Okay, a lot of drunken nights, but no new tattoos.” He looks over as the music changes from fast to slow. “So, um,” he stammers, shifting his weight. “I know you’re about to eat, but I asked the DJ to play a song and I was hoping you’d dance with me.”
“Is this the song?” I ask, looking over at the dance floor.
“Yes,” he says. “Will you dance with me, Holliday?”
I nod and set my plate down without hesitation. “I’d like that.” He doesn’t realize I would say yes to anything he asked of me.
He takes my hand and heads for the dance floor, his fingers curling around mine possessively. I’m lost to how warm his skin feels, his touch always more than skin deep. When we reach the dance floor, he takes my other hand and we begin to dance, him taking the lead. He looks down at my face, his gaze hitting my mouth and moving up to my eyes. “I never thanked you properly… when we came back from Paris,” he says.
“Thank me for what?”
“For saving me.”
Looking down, we turn, keeping our feet moving. “You did onc—”
“I’m not talking about the plane crash.”
His eyes are fixed on mine, an intensity directed at me when he pulls me closer, cups my face, and he says, “You’re the calm to my storm.”
Staring up at him, my lips part, my heart thunders in my chest, and my cheeks heat. The song ends and clapping begins. I discover we have an audience, “People are watching.”
“I don’t care.”
That brings my attention back to him. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t care about them. I only care about yo—” A loud tapping, a fork against crystal, interrupts him. I’m introduced to give my speech.
His hands fall away and we both look toward the microphone, everyone waiting on me. “Will you stay?” I ask.
“I’ll wait for you.”
I walk away to make a toast to the bride and her groom, but glance back, missing his touch already. After my speech, I sit next to Tracy while Alex gives his best man’s speech. My gaze shifts from Alex to Dalton. Dalton captivates me, and I watch him move to the bar. Loud laughter draws my attention back to the speech, but I missed the joke. Alex wraps up his toast and we all drink in the couple’s honor. Tracy leans over, and says, “He told me he wants to start over with you. Do things right this time.”