A few more songs and I’m going to start imagining things I have no right to imagine. Futures I have no business building in my head.
She rests a little more of her weight against me, and my hand flexes at her waist.
“Tired?” I ask quietly.
“No.” She pauses. “Maybe a little overwhelmed.”
“Too many people?”
She gives me a tiny shrug. “Not in a bad way. Just… a lot. Everything is kind of perfect.”
Her words land like a blow.
Perfect.
I look down at her.
At her flushed cheeks and bright eyes and dragon clips and ridiculous purse.
And I think, with sudden, terrifying certainty:
I want more than one night.
Not just this dance. Not just this wedding. Not just the possibility of getting her in my bed.
I want mornings. I want in-jokes. I want her making fun of my music in my kitchen while I make coffee. I want her dragons and scarves and impossible delight spilling into all the quiet corners of my life.
I want?—
“Hey, Miller.”
I look up.
Raquel stands a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor, elegant in dark green, polished as ever. One hand lifts in a small wave.
Tavey shifts in my arms, just enough to look past my shoulder. I feel her stiffen, which confirms what I already knew. The timing here is not fantastic.
I lower my hand from her waist at once.
Raquel smiles, easy and social. “Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Hey,” I say.
That’s it. No invitation. No warmth beyond basic decency.
Raquel’s gaze flicks from me to Tavey and back. Something knowing passes through her expression, gone too fast to pin down.
“Well,” she says lightly, “I’ll let you get back to it.”
Tavey offers a polite little smile. Raquel moves on.
And that’s that.
Or at least, I hope it is.
I look down at Tavey. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She nods quickly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
