Page 104 of Dancing in the Dark

“Not only my perfume,” she rasps. “My desire. It’s nature’s way of bringing mates together.”

“Fuckkkk.” My swollen cock throbs and brings me actual pain. “I’m so fucking hungry for you.”

“I wish I’d met you twenty years ago.” She lifts her hand and waits for my vision to clear. “Back when I still wanted to dance professionally, but the pressure hurt too much. Back when I needed an ally in a war I never signed up for, but I was still young enough that I would’ve gotten on a stage and tried to impress you with my form.”

“You impress me every fucking day.” I cup the side of her neck and draw her down, crashing my lips to hers and swallowing something akin to grief. And passion. Devastation. Heat. “Just by existing. Just by waking up every damn day and being who you are, you impress me.” I catch sight of that three-hundred-pound bouncer in the corners of my eyes, so I unravel her legs from around my hips and set her on her own feet. No rules broken here. “I wish I’d met you twenty years ago, too. I’d have married you so fuckin’ fast, your head would still be spinning.”

Breathless and stunned, she pulls back and searches my eyes.

Grinning, I drag her in until our bellies touch and her thighs rest between mine. Setting my hand on the small of her back and swaying in the dark, I grant her the one wish I can.

And mourn the one I can’t.

“I would’ve loved the you from twenty years ago,” I murmur in her ear. “I would’ve championed her. Fought for her.” Sliding my thumb beneath her chin, I tilt her back and capture her lips with mine. “I would’ve made dancing fun for her again, and I would’ve destroyed every person who tried to convince her she wasn’t enough. Even if that person shared her DNA.” I lay my palm over her eyes and hold her malleable body close to mine. “I’m so fucking sorry it took this long for us to come together. But, Sera?” I press my lips to hers and inhale her choked exhale. “I’m not letting go now.”

39

SERAPHINA

A few days after our night at the Opulus club, I step inside a theater downtown with a small bouquet of flowers nestled in the crook of my arm and nervous anticipation pulsing in my veins. A sense of déjà vu settles over my head as the lobby lights flicker off and on and a soft ding-ding-ding plays through the speakers, announcing Mia’s recital will begin soon.

I said I’d meet them here, since I couldn’t get away from work until six, and Mia’s show starts at seven. Now it’s a quarter to. With my ticket clasped firmly in hand and butterfly wings flapping incessantly in my belly, I follow the crowd and keep my eyes open for Charlie. I search for his broad shoulders amongst the horde. His stubbled jaw, no doubt gritting and releasing as he worries for his baby.

I ignore the eager rush of family members bustling past me, their elbows knocking mine, the corners of little old lady handbags banging my hip. Tonight’s show isn’t a free-for-all where anyone can walk off the street and watch. It’s a ticketed event with allocated seats and an intermission scheduled for shortly past eight, so the folks forming a stampede to get through the doors achieve nothing but added chaos to an already overstimulating environment.

But then again, that could be my own biases at play. My years spent inside places just like this, even when I begged not to go anymore.

“Sera?”

My breath comes to a startled stop at the sound of Charlie’s voice somewhere amongst the crowd. My head whips around in search, and for each second I don’t see him, my throat turns impossibly dry. But then I find him, the salmon swimming upstream, his eyes glittering with nervous excitement as he fights the handbag slingers and stops a mere two feet in front of me.

“Hey. You look beautiful.” He takes my hand and draws me closer, dropping a gentle kiss on my cheek. Pulling back, he looks down at the bouquet I cling to and grins. “Thank you for coming. Come on.” He drapes his arm over my shoulders. “Our seats are over here.”

It’s an odd feeling, being thrilled to be here tonight, while also dreading every step we take closer to the stage. Families chatter and search for their seats. People bicker. Some sit where they shouldn’t, then get pissy when the rightful owner tells them to move. Conversation becomes a constant buzz sawing at the back of my skull. “We’re in the front row? Really?”

“Not quite.” He cuts to the right three rows back from the stage, taking my hand again and carefully leading me past those who’ve already found their seats. “If I were faster, I’d have nabbed the front, but I swear, I was online within five minutes of tickets going on sale, and this was still the closest I could get.”

“You knew to buy two tickets?” I step over a purse whose owner refuses to move. “When did they go on sale?”

“A few weeks ago.” Finally, we arrive at our seats, so he turns and takes my bouquet, then he helps me sit and waits for me to fix my dress. Handing the flowers back, he plops down on my right and bounces his knees, his eyes scouring the empty stage as though terrified he might miss something important. “Mia and I had been talking about how inviting someone else might encourage her to be brave up there. I didn’t know specifically who would sit beside me when I bought them. I just knew it was important I grab two.” He draws his gaze around and shows off a jittery stare. “That probably makes me sound like a douche, but I’m too amped up to use my brain properly.”

Snickering, I lay the bouquet across my thighs and wrap my arm around his. Pulling him closer, I rest my cheek against the ball of his shoulder. “I’m gonna say something kinda douchey too, okay? But I’m saying it with love, so don’t hate me…”

Wary, and seemingly bracing for the worst, he brings his eyes down to mine. “What?”

“Have you considered that your nerves might be why she gets so nervous? I know it’s a nuanced situation with so much more at play than this, but there’s no way your anxiety is helping hers.”

“So it’s my fault?” His shoulders drop. Yep. The worst. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t. You got her here, and you work hard to ensure she has these opportunities. Dance isn’t a cheap sport, and you’re a single dad living in an expensive city.”

“Her costumes for tonight alone cost two hundred dollars.”

I snicker. “Yeah. I’m not even surprised. These things are total money-spinners. Just… try not to stress so much. If you’re relaxed, she’ll relax.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and exhale. “How was she when you got here?”

“Mostly interested in you.”

Curious, I pull back. “Me?”