And it’s working.
Jules moves first, pulling me onto the makeshift dance floor. The music pulses between us. We’re not the only ones dancing to the infectious beat.
I should stop. Walk away. Shut this down.
But I don’t.
Just like I shouldn’t look.
But I do.
James watches with dark eyes, posture tense and focused, as my hips sway and knees bend. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, never breaking eye contact as if the music is a language only the two of us can hear.
Jules’s hand clasps mine, and she spins me once before pulling me close, her stomach to my back. “Should I ask Tom and James to join us? They both look eager. Very eager.”
My body tenses with anticipation at the mere idea of dancing with him. Her lips curl into a wicked smile. She laughs, loud and satisfied, pleased to have finally drawn a reaction out of me after all these years.
I don’t even try to recover. Because for the first time since I was a girl wishing on stars, I’m letting myself hope. While I want him—God, do I want to know what his hands feel like on my body—more than that, I want him waiting for me each day after work, waking beside me each morning, and growing so ridiculously old and wrinkled together that we’ll look back on this night and think,damn, we were so lucky.
Hope, the thing I’ve spent years protecting myself from, floods through me.
But Jules isn’t the only one watching.
Mason, mid-conversation, shifts his gaze between us, his grip tightening around his drink. His eyes darken to that deep midnight blue I remember fromthe deck, storming with anger. Ivy’s eyes settle on James, something calculating in her expression as she watches his focus on me.
I look away, calming my breath. In. Hold. Out. And when I look back at James, his eyes are still on me. Something fierce and wholly mine breathes free.
Jules tugs me close and says, “You know why I love romance novels? It’s not for the smut.” She laughs. “Well, it’s partially for the smut. But really? It’s because they prove that even in the midst of life, love still finds a way in.”
She pauses, her chaos temporarily quieted.
“Life’s full of pain. Some of it is crushing, like what you’ve been through. And some comes from the mundane daily grind of being an adult. But we don’t have to live in fear of it. We can feel all of it, the highs and lows, and know we’re truly living.” Her voice grows fierce. “Stop letting the past dim your light, Syd. Life’s too short for what-ifs. It’s time to burn it all down.”
***
Beforetheclockstrikesmidnight, Mason finds me.
He’s had enough to drink to be emboldened and curls a possessive arm around me. “Why don’t you dance with me that way?”
“Mason, we can’t pretend we’re fine because you’ve had a few drinks.”
“You went through a lot of effort if you weren’t looking for my attention.”
“I cut my hair for myself. I’m wearing this dress because I like how it makes me feel. This is for me. It’s not for your approval.”
His lips curve, but not quite to a smile. “Funny, it seems like you were trying to look nice for someone.”
The countdown begins before I can get away.
Ten.
He moves closer, his palm trailing down my exposed back.
Nine.
His fingers press, trying to pull me against him.
Eight.
