He eyes it like I’ve just handed him a live grenade. “I can’t,” he says immediately. “I’m working.”
I tilt my head. “Just one sip. Relax.”
He hesitates, then glances down at the can in my hand. Recognition flashes across his face.
“Cherry Moon?” he asks.
I shrug sheepishly. “Figured it was appropriate.”
His expression softens, something warm flickering there. He takes it from me, cracking it open with a quiet hiss before lifting it to his lips. The moment he swallows, some of the tension drains from his shoulders.
We stand there side by side, watching the dance floor. Luke nearly trips over his own feet, dragging Mason down with him into a fit of laughter while Hunter just shakes his head, smiling. Nearby, Hunter’s twin brother dances with his girlfriend, the two of them moving easily together. Across the room, Mason’s little sister spins with her friends, their laughter carrying over the music while their father watches from his seat, his expression soft with quiet adoration.
I glance over at Ashton, the way the light catches in his hair, the quiet focus still lingering in his eyes.
“C’mon,” I say, plucking the cider from his hand and setting it on a nearby table.
He blinks at me. “Huh?”
I shrug, offering him my hand. “Dance with me.”
He lets out a soft laugh, color rising to his cheeks. “Troy…”
“Please, baby,” I urge, squeezing his arm. “You’ve been working all day. One dance isn’t gonna ruin anything.”
He hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes flicking between me and the crowd.
“C’mon,” I add, softer now. “We’ve gotta practice.”
He raises a brow. “Practice?”
I roll my eyes. “For our own wedding.Duh.”
He huffs like I’m joking—but I’m not.
There’s a small ring box tucked away in my sock drawer, waiting for the right moment. And when it comes, it won’t be half-assed. Not for him.
It’ll be big. Bold. Probably a little unhinged.
A proposal worthy of the way he’s changed my life.
“Alright.” He sighs reluctantly, but his eyes twinkle with delight. “I’ll try not to step on your toes.”
“Thanks, baby.” I tug him forward.
We step onto the edge of the dance floor just as the music shifts to a slow ballad. The crowd adjusts with it, couples turning inward, drawing closer.
Perfect timing.
I pull Ashton in, one hand settling at his waist, the other guiding his arm up around my shoulders. He goes a little stiff at first, then exhales and melts into me as we begin to sway. I press a kiss to his hair, holding him a little closer as we drift beneath the lights, the music carrying us gently through the moment.
His head dips, his forehead brushing mine before it comes to rest near my temple. I tighten my hold just a fraction, tracing slow circles along the small of his back.
And as we move together, everything else fades. The laughter, the music, the movement around us—it all blurs into the background until it’s justhim.
The warmth of his body.
The steady rhythm of his breathing.
