"Smart woman."
"She was." The old grief flickered and faded, still familiar after thirty years.
"What's your excuse?"
"For dancing?"
"For being good at it."
She laughed softly.
"Six years of ballet as a child. Two years of dance team in college. And one ex-boyfriend who thought ballroom dancing would help make us the perfect power couple."
"The ex whose ghost you're trying to exorcise tonight?"
Her steps faltered momentarily.
"What makes you think that?"
"The way you looked while at the bar. Like someone searching for something they lost."
I adjusted my hold, drawing her fractionally closer. "Or maybe something they never had."
Her green eyes narrowed. "You're very perceptive for a man who doesn't want complications."
"Perception isn't the same as involvement."
"Isn't it?" Her hand tightened on my shoulder.
"Why did you ask me here? The truth."
The truth.
Such a simple request, yet so rarely honored between strangers.
Between anyone.
"Because when I saw you," I said carefully, "I recognized something. A specific kind of loneliness that has nothing to do with being alone."
She stilled in my arms, her expression suddenly unguarded. Vulnerable.
"And what would you know about that kind of loneliness?"
"Everything." I traced my thumb across her knuckles where our hands remained joined.
"It's the kind that follows you into crowded rooms. The kind that sleeps beside you in a shared bed."
She swallowed, her gaze dropping to our hands. "You're married."
“Never married but currently not taken.”
"Children?"
Something in her tone made me hesitate. "One son. Adult."
She nodded, processing this.
"I should go. My friend will be looking for me."
