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“Well, then. Dance.” Page calls out as her click-clacking shoes approach. Maybe it won’t get too romantic with Page breathing down our necks, barking out commands like a drill sergeant.
I step backward and lead Lauren, making the box-step shape as Page taught us. One lesson should do, and we’re twenty minutes into it already.
Lauren looks at me now, and I stop breathing for a moment. She seems to be searching for something. Or is it because the dance requires her to look at me?
My thumb runs small circles on her back, and Lauren closes her eyes for a beat. I love this woman. I need a way back into her life.
I swirl her around, and we have a good rhythm—back and forth and to the side we go.
“Good, good.” Page stands beside us with arms crossed, and she points. “Okay, Mason, lead your partner around the room.”
I tuck Lauren toward me as I step back with a little more gusto than I should. She stumbles and head-butts my chin. I drop her arm and groan. She’s rubbing her forehead.
I do the same to my chin. “Sorry, are you all right?”
“Nothing a little makeup won’t cover.” She winces as she touches her forehead.
“Oh, you guys were doing so well. Mason, you brute.” Page tsks. “Take it easy next time. Treat her like a delicate butterfly. Don’t break her wings. Or head butt her antennas.”
“Yeah, you big slug,” says Lauren. “I’m a delicate butterfly.” She flaps her imaginary wings and flutters around me. She’s all things beautiful, and she sets my heart to flight.
We continue to dance and move into a rhythm. Page nods, seeming happier with our progress.
“You’re both doing great. Keep going until the song finishes. I’m going to go to the restroom. Be right back.” The click-clack of her heels echoes as she exits the gymnasium.
I smile at Lauren and dare to pull her closer.
“You’re enjoying yourself way too much, buddy.” She smirks.
“Is it a crime to enjoy holding one’s fiancée?”
“Ha.” She tosses her head back. “Fake fiancée.”
“A man can dream.” I move my hand against her back, pressing her closer.
“Dream about your grandma. That might help.”
I scowl. “I was daydreaming about our wedding night. Now you’ve gone and screwed it up.”
She pushes my shoulder where her hand rests. “There is no wedding night. After the fake wedding, we go back to our separate houses.”
“Come on. Don’t you want to seal the deal with traditional wedding night shenanigans?” I chuckle.
“You’re terrible. Seriously, Mason, you think I’d go along with that?”
“No. Definitely not.” I swing her around. “I wanted the real deal.” A real wedding. Commitment all the way. Like we originally had planned. I pull Lauren into my chest and rest my chin on her head. “Now. Mention Gran again. That was helping.”
She pulls back and stomps on my shoe.
“Ouch.” I limp. “That hurt.”
“How’s that for a reality check?”
“You’re a contentious one. No wonder you and Gran get along so well.”
The sound of heels echoing on the floorboards bounces off the walls.
Page.
