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“Watch? Oh no, my dear. Killian simply must participate.” Climbing to her feet, she began muttering to herself while I gritted my teeth, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake in bringing Killian back here. “I cannot allow him to dance with Barbara, though. She’ll never let me hear the end of it. No, we must practise now so we can show that ho who the most talented dancer is. Oh, yes. This will be fabulous. A throwback to my glory days.”
There was a knock on her door, and I strode across the room to open it, leaving Killian to fend for himself.
“JJ!” I staggered backwards as Niccolò threw himself at me.
“Nic? What are you doing here?” Disentangling myself from my friend, I was suddenly aware that it had gone quiet behind me.
“I’m here for the dance class.” He peered into the room, his bright smile disappearing, replaced by a frown. “I didn’t get the date wrong, did I?”
Fuck. How had I managed to forget that I’d asked Nic to help out? He came with me to the complex as often as he could, having been a frequent visitor at our house growing up, and G adored him.
Rubbing my hand across my face, I shook my head. “No. Sorry, babe. Yeah. The dance class.” I stepped aside so he could enter, and my gaze darted to Killian’s. His eyes had darkened, his jaw set as he stared daggers at Niccolò.
“Niccolò, darling.” G swept him into a hug, and he kissed both of her cheeks, his bright smile returning. “Beware of Kitty—she’ll try to monopolise all your attention again.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about me, G. I can handle her.” Releasing my grandma, he looked back at me, his brows lifting. “JJ? Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
As if he didn’t know who Killian was. “Yeah. Uh, Nic, meet Killian. Killian, this is Niccolò. One of my best friends.”
“Killian’s a doctor,” G interjected, fanning herself. “And he’s helping out with our dance class today. We were just about to practise.”
“Ooh!” Niccolò clapped his hands together, bounding over to G’s armchair. He draped his body over the furniture with an exaggerated sigh, kicking one leg over the other. “Go ahead. I want to see.”
“I think Killian and Josh should dance to begin with, don’t you, my darling Niccolò?” G took a seat in the other armchair, daintily crossing her ankles.
“You’re so right. We should definitely watch JJ dance with Killian.” Nic smirked at me, and I had a sudden urge to commit violence against my usually sweet friend. He was clearly in cahoots with my grandma, the little traitor.
“Fine,” I growled, stalking over to G’s record player. The best way to deal with this was to go along with what they wanted and not make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t a big deal, anyway. It was just me, dancing with the gorgeous older man I was really into, while two of the people who knew me best scrutinised my every move… Fuck. Who was I kidding? This was going to be a disaster.
Glancing down at the record already on the turntable, I noticed it was the compilation of slow dance songs I’d gifted G for her eighty-first birthday. If I didn’t know better, I’d think G had planned this. Wait a minute. She probably had planned this.
I lowered the needle to the vinyl, and the opening notes of “Lover” by Taylor Swift sounded. Standing in the centre of the room, where there was space to dance, I lifted my hands, placing one around Killian’s and the other at his shoulder. He placed his free hand on my waist, his thumb lightly caressing my side.
Our eyes met, and beneath that storminess that had appeared when Niccolò had shown up, there was something else. Something soft and warm that gave me butterflies and made me melt into him as we began to move to the music.
We danced like we’d been dancing together for years. Killian spun me around the room, his gaze fixed on mine, so elegant and graceful that I almost felt as if we were in a dream.
When the song came to an end, he pulled me into his arms, lowering his head so his lips brushed against my ear. “You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”
With those parting words, he released me, striding across the room to my grandma, where he dropped into a bow. Where the fuck was all this coming from? The dancing, the bowing, the declaration that I was his?
“Glynis. May I have this dance?”
She took his hand, and when the next song began, I choked up, blinking rapidly to keep my composure, because it was an Emily Watts cover of Édith Piaf’s “La Vie en rose,” G’s favourite song ever and one we’d danced to over the years growing up. I was thrown back into memories, spinning around our kitchen as the delicious smells of breakfast cooking wafted around us, the sash windows open to let in the morning breeze, the sounds of a house full of friends slowly waking up, ready to enjoy a lazy Sunday morning.
Arms wound around my waist, and I looked down to see Nic staring up at me. “This song brings back so many happy memories.”
I nodded, unable to speak, my gaze going back to Killian holding G like she was something precious, gently moving her around the floor, murmuring something to her that made her smile widely.
“Oh, fuck. I am in so much trouble,” I whispered shakily.
Niccolò’s arms tightened around me. “Yeah. You are.”
The dance class had finished, and Niccolò had slipped away, leaving me with G and Killian. They were deep in conversation, G sharing one of her tall tales, and I ached. There had been no part of me that had been interested in a relationship until Killian had come into my life, and now I had no idea how I was supposed to let him go.
When we eventually said our goodbyes and were out on the streets, this part of London quiet in the evening, Killian stopped me with a hand to my arm. “Is everything okay? You haven’t said much today.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked, and I tried again, clearing my throat first. “Yeah. Where did you learn to dance?” I asked because it was the easiest thing to focus on, because I didn’t have the words to articulate everything I was feeling inside.
