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“I don’t think she’s awake at this hour.”
“No, but this way she’ll see it first thing in the morning, and I get extra brownie points.” Her smile knocked the wind from his lungs.
“And finally, the gold bracelet donated by Basmati Jewelers was won by Paul Veritek.” A smattering of applause floated across the room.
“You didn’t win,” Patience said. “Sorry.”
“I’ll live.” He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to bid on the bracelet in the first place. Seeing Patience’s bare wrists had him offering up a bid without thinking. In a room filled with expensive jewelry, the simplicity stood out. But then, she didn’t need jewelry, or makeup for that matter, to stand out, did she?
“And that concludes our program,” Ethyl announced. “We look forward to seeing you next year.”
“Guess that means the evening is over,” Patience said.
“All but the dancing.” Right on schedule, a Big Band standard began to play. As he watched couples making their way to the dance floor, Stuart was suddenly gripped with the desire to join them.
“Feel like dancing?”
“I thought you said you wanted to leave right after the ceremony.”
He did. He also told himself putting his arms around Patience again was the worst idea ever, but now he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. “I changed my mind. A few dances might be fun.”
“I—” He’d caught her off guard, and she was struggling with what to say. The hesitancy made his palm actually start to sweat like a high schooler.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Why not?”
His thrill over her acceptance was like a high schooler’s, too.
He led her to the far edge of the dance floor, where the crowd wouldn’t swallow them up, and pulled her close. Last night’s embrace had been tentative and accidental, but here on the dance floor, he was free to hold her as close and for as long as he liked.
They moved in sync, their bodies slipping together in a perfect fit. Not surprisingly, Patience moved with a natural rhythm, her lower half moving back and forth like the waves in an ocean. Or like a lover meeting his thrusts. Stuart rested his hand on her hip and savored every shift beneath his fingers.
The song ended, and another ballad began. And another. They danced and swayed until the deejay announced it was time to say good-night.
Patience lifted her head from his shoulder. Her eyes were as bright as he’d ever seen then, with a sheen that looked suspiciously like moisture. “Thank you for chasing Dr. Tischel out of my head,” she whispered.
That was all it took. Something inside him started to fall.
* * *
They walked up Beacon Street in silence, both of them pretending to act matter-of-fact even though they both knew their relationship had changed. How and why could wait until later. Right now, Stuart was content listening to the click-clack of Patience’s heels on the sidewalk and reliving the feel of her curves beneath his hands. As for Patience, she was letting her fingers glide along the fence lining Boston Public Garden. “A fancy cake for Mrs. F,” she said in singsongy tone under her breath.
“Whose Mrs. F?” he asked.
She flashed him a nostalgic-looking smile. “It’s from a bedtime story I used to read to Piper about a man delivering cakes around Boston. A fancy cake for Mrs. F who lived on Beacon Hill. I think of the line whenever I see this row of houses.”
Another memory involving raising her sister. Interesting how easily she shared those memories yet said so little about her own childhood. Beyond what he’d pulled out of her over dinner, that is. It was as if she didn’t have a childhood of her own, Considering the shadows he’d seen in her eyes last night, maybe she hadn’t.
So many pieces of her he didn’t understand, so many parts unrevealed.
The story she described was one you read to a young child. “How old is your sister anyway?”
“Piper? Twenty-two.”
Eight years younger. “So you read your sister a bedtime story when you were a kid?”
There was a stutter in her step. “Yeah, I did.”
“I’m guessing your mom worked nights.”
“Um...not really. She was just...busy.” The evasiveness had returned, only this time what she didn’t say came through loud and clear. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d started raising Piper long before their mother passed away. A child raising a child. He’d been right; she hadn’t had a childhood of her own. She was like those damn dogs on the humane society poster, only instead of sympathy or guilt twisting in his gut, he wanted to wrap Patience in his arms and hold her tight and tell her she never had to be on her own again.
