Alistair dances with Mum, Florence with her uncle, who’s back in his wheelchair as the long day has clearly drained him. Halfway through their first dance, Florence and Alistair call out for everyone else to join them on the dance floor to finish the song.
It’s a slow song I don’t recognize, but all I can do is hope it’s ten minutes long as I pull Violet, wordlessly, to dance with me.
I do a double take as I see Uncle Albie, now spinning my mother around the dance floor.
Okay, that’s adorable, Violet says, her eyes following mine.
I think I’m fuming? I say, my voice uncertain, and this makes her laugh. That laugh. It snaps me immediately back to her lovely face, her bare arms around my neck. I make a mental tally of her tattoos; some weird, obsessive check-in.
That soft, lazy smile. I want to kiss that smile off her mouth.
Good day? I ask her, smirking, pulling her even closer to me.
Perfect. And hey, guess what I did? You’re going to be so proud of me.
What did you do, Violet?
She smiles to herself, tilting her head down and averting her gaze.
I was thinking about what you said at the bar. So I told my family that I’d be super busy around the wedding, and would not be available to them during that time. But I also muted notifications from all of them, for forty-eight hours anyway, in case they happened to forget.
Something like pride swells in my chest. Look at you, having some boundaries, I say, before adding. I am exceptionally proud.
Do it now, you arsehole! The voice in my head yells, but do what?
I don’t know how to begin this conversation. Violet, I think you should come to Scotland with me. Violet, I think I should move to B.C. with you. Violet, where are you going next, and can I come along? Violet, is this what love feels like? Do you know? Have you felt it? Can you tell me if that’s what this is before I go out of my mind?
I hear how shaky my next breath out is and I try to steady myself.
I pull her wrist with the four-leaf clover towards my mouth, kissing the spot again.
For luck, I say simply, when she gives me a questioning look.
Without warning, Violet stands on her tiptoes, tugging me down by the neck to bring my mouth to hers.
This, I think, is what it’s supposed to feel like.
I don’t dare pick apart that sentence.
When she pulls her lips from mine, I smirk down at her again.
What was that for, Violet?
Because I wanted to.
She wanted to. Is it possible that she feels even a fraction of what I do?
Again, that feeling of hope, blooms fully in my chest.
Chapter 36
VIOLET
VIOLET, I THINK, A WARNING to myself. You are getting reckless.
I don’t know how to do this—admit that I want something and simply go after it.
He’s caught up in something he can’t have. This isn’t real. Even if it could be, he wouldn’t be interested—not seriously, not really. There’s some pull between us, some curiosity from him. But it’s only because we’ve spent so much time together.
