Soon, we’re both grinning like idiots, dancing on the world’s biggest marble kitchen island and laughing like this is the best thing in the world.
The song segues intoI wanna Dance with Somebody, but this time it only makes us laugh harder. I’m holding an imaginary microphone now, singing the words to him, and his whole body is moving in rhythm. He’s a good dancer—not that I’m surprised; he’s a man who knows how to use his body—and I feel completely drunk on this moment. I never want it to end.
We’re completely in sync. He’s no longer dancing beside me, but dancingwithme.
He takes my hand, and for a second I think he’s going to pull me flush against him, but he doesn’t; he tugs me in a little closer, then spins me out, my skirt flaring round my knees like I’m a jive dancer from the fifties.
“What’s this?” comes Lizzie’s voice, screeching over the music, and we both freeze. She’s standing there in her coat, holding her handbag, all glammed up from whatever dinner she’s been at.I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or shocked, or if she thinks there’s something going on between us.
Rafe puts his hands on his hips. “What does it look like?” he says breathlessly.
She squeals. “Are you doing Dance Kitchen without me?” She yanks off her coat and chucks it over a stool, then kicks off her heels one after the other. Rafe offers her his hand, and she climbs up next to us. “What happened? Who’s sad?” she asks. “Do I need to fight someone?”
I laugh at her readiness to go into battle for one of us. Rafe smiles, catching my eye, and it makes me feel giddy.
I’ve never been part of a family that did anything like this.
“Not really,” I tell Lizzie. “Your dad wanted to cheer me up. I was having an off day.”
Lizzie spies my phone on the corner of the island. “Then I have just the song.” She snatches it up, and a moment later, Britney’sStrongerbooms around us, and we dance like idiots until we’re exhausted.
I’m grateful for Lizzie’s appearance because I don’t know what might have happened if she hadn’t shown up. I don’t have a clue how her dad feels about me.
But one thing I do know: I could fall in love with a man like Rafe Bastion. Not only is he amazing to look at and great in bed, but he’s kind, generous, thoughtful. Fun. When I’m with him, I have the best time.
Shit. I might be a little in love with him already.
18
RAFE
Afew nights after our Dance Kitchen extravaganza, which seems like a fever dream whenever I recall it, I find myself unable to sleep.
Images of Diana trespass through my restless mind. I see her dancing on that island, her skirt spinning out, her blonde hair flying every direction as she played air guitar. She’s an enthusiastic performer; magnetic to watch.
Dancing on that island with her might be the most fun I’ve had in far too long.
I sit up in bed and throw back the covers. I don’t normally have trouble sleeping, but for some reason I can’t quite pin down, I’m unsettled tonight.
Pulling on a t-shirt, I wander to the kitchen, intending to get myself a drink. But when I reach the doorway, I’m greeted by the sight of Diana sitting at the island, her face lit up by the blue screen of her laptop.
Her hair is tied up in her signature messy bun, and she’s wearing headphones and one of her oversized sweatshirts. I like her this way, without the artifice of fancy clothes or makeup. Butshe looks tired. Has she even been to bed? She doesn’t glance up, so I can only assume she can’t hear me.
I wait, watching her, giving her a moment to realise I’m here, but she’s too absorbed in whatever she’s doing. Her eyes are focused, her eyebrows tugged together, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s lacking certainty about something.
Finally sensing me, she quickly pulls her headphones down, letting them hang around the back of her neck. “Oh. Hi. Am I—” She cuts herself off as she looks beyond me, searching for something, or someone, pushing her stool away from the island like she’s getting ready to leave if I have company. The idea she thinks I might not be alone makes me uneasy. Her cheeks take on a pinkish tinge, visible even in the moonlit kitchen. “Shall I go?”
“No,” I say, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable and definitely not wanting her to leave. “You’re fine. Stay as you are.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says.
“Me neither.” I grab a water glass from the cabinet and hold it up. “You want one?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
I fill two glasses with iced water from the fridge, and when I hand one to Diana, her fingertips overlap mine for a second. An electric charge runs up my arm, spinning through my body.
“Thanks,” she whispers, taking the glass and placing it beside her laptop.
