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I’m shaking from the potent cocktail of adrenaline and residual nerves from having to speak in front of an audience of a few hundred people. I glance away from Cooper for only a moment, back to where Professor Barclay was standing, only to find that he’s not there anymore. I immediately start to scan the crowd, looking for him, but then Cooper says my name and I chide myself for not paying better attention to his speech. He’s telling a story of when Wesley, Sonya, he, and I all went to the beach on vacation and got stung by a swarm of jellyfish. I lose the thread of significance. I have no idea why the story is relevant to Sonya and Wesley’s wedding, but then again, I’m not being the world’s best listener at the moment.
Finally, Cooper finishes his speech, and we raise our champagne flutes in honor of Sonya and Wesley. Waiters are seamlessly dispatched to retrieve empty plates from tables as Sonya’s father stands to take our place on the dance floor for his turn with the microphone.
I have no choice but to reclaim my seat and try to pay attention. I’m on the left arm of the bride; I don’t want to distract anyone from listening to the speech. I force my attention to Sonya’s dad, and even though I listen dutifully, I don’t hear a single word. My head is buzzing. Under the table, I wring my hands. The audience laughs, and I join in a half-beat later.
It continues like this. After Sonya’s father’s speech, Wesley’s father stands for one as well, and I grind my molars. Then the DJ announces the couple’s first dance, and my eyes rove hungrily over that reception hall, but I don’t see Professor Barclay. The dessert table and open bar, photographers and guests…table after table filled with strangers. I start to lose trust in the fact that I ever saw him in the first place.
Even still, I refuse to give up my search as the DJ invites guests to join the newlyweds out on the dance floor. Everyone in the wedding party stands up around me, and then I feel a hand touch my shoulder.
I expect it to be Wesley’s cousin, the one from the cocktail hour, trying one more time to capture my interest.
Instead, a familiar voice speaks behind me.
“Dance with me?”
My heart drops as I spin around. Professor Barclay stands there, in the flesh, his hand outstretched for me to take.
If I stand, I’m not conscious of it. If I let him guide me out onto the dance floor, it’s only because I’m too stunned to do it myself.
I focus on the details to keep from becoming too overwhelmed: the perfect way he’s styled his hair, special and fancy for the occasion; the subtle worry he carries on his brow, as if this isn’t easy for him either; the truth so perfectly visible in his clear blue eyes I’m surprised I didn’t see it there before now.
He takes me to one corner of the dance floor and wraps his sturdy arms around me as the familiar opening string instruments lead into Ella James’ low, angelic voice in “At Last”. I glide my hands up until I can link them around his neck.
“Life is like a song,” Ella tells us as Professor Barclay tugs me even closer, hip to hip as we sway gently. My throat squeezes tight as I try to come to grips with the fact that he’s here, holding me.
“Don’t cry,” he tells me, taking one hand off my hip so he can reach up to cradle my face and swipe the tears away with his thumb.
“I’m not,” I promise, though the evidence is damning.
“Emelia.”
“You came all the way here.” My eyebrows scrunch as realization dawns. “How?How did you know where to find me?”
He has the audacity to blush as if he wasn’t already the most charming man on earth. “I was stumped at first, but in your HR file, you listed Sonya as your emergency contact. I had my assistant call her to ask about the wedding you were attending this weekend.” He smiles. “It was convenient, obviously, thatshewas the one getting married. The rest…worked itself out.”
I laugh at the simplicity of his fairly momentous grand gesture.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Because otherwise you’d be alone on the dance floor?” he quips, trying to get me to smile.
“I’ll have you know, I wouldn’t have been all that lonely. I promised a dance to Sonya’s grandfather.”
He smiles. “I’m sure he’ll come try to collect you at any moment.” His expression suddenly turns serious, even as he continues to tease me. “But I don’t think I can let you go.”
The heady look he gives me is enough to melt any cynic’s heart.
“Prof—”
He squeezes my hip in protest.
“Jonathan,” I amend.
“Say it again.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Jonathan,” I repeat, almost crooning this time, laying it on thick to make him laugh.
