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The Jackson Family - $5,000
Laurie Anderson - $15,000
The Hillstone Group - $200,000
The emcee calls them out, keeping the energy up as everyone exclaims with excitement. My donation is made anonymously. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and Tate glances over at me with wide eyes.
“That was generous of you.”
She must have been snooping.
I clear my throat. “My mother was an art teacher at an elementary school in Phoenix before she passed from cancer. I like to think she’d be happy to see me putting my money back toward public schools.”
Tate’s expression saddens even as she smiles and nods. “Of course she would be.”
After dinner wraps up, there’s an afterparty in Astor Hall where dessert and cocktails are served alongside dancing and a silent auction. Luke sweeps Tate out onto the dance floor—beneath a huge gold disco ball—and they dance while they talk. He’s silly with her, spinning her around and around, making it fun. Dustin takes a picture of them so he can send it to Luke. After he fires it off, he looks to me with a commiserating expression.
“You’re not being nearly as subtle as you think you are. In fact, I’m not even sure you’re trying to hide the fact that you like her.”
I shamelessly turn my attention back to Tate. It’s rare, after all, that I’m allowed to just watch her like this, without her realizing.
“I’ve tried to move on,” I admit because it feels futile to lie to my friend. “Believe me, I’ve tried to talk myself out of it.”
Dustin huffs out a disappointed sigh. “It’s just not smart, man. It could explode a million different ways. With the team, with our friends.” He shakes his head. “My advice? Call Lizzy.”
Luke dips Tate so low she squeals, scared he’s going to drop her.
Lizzy doesn’t exist.
No one does. There’s only Tate.
I find her a few minutes later, alone near the bar. I don’t know where Luke’s gone, but at the moment, I can’t force myself to care.
I walk up to her and press my hand to her lower back, leaning in. “Come dance with me.”
She whirls around and shakes her head, frowning. “Grant.”
My name is a warning and a weapon. Stop this, her expression commands. Don’t make this harder.
I’m helpless in this, Tate. Haven’t you come to understand that now?
“Dance with me,” I say again, starting to walk backward onto the dance floor. I smile and wait as she chews her bottom lip and looks around. For what? An escape route?
She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and then she shakes her head before finally starting to walk toward me with a reticent look on her face.
“It’s just a dance, Tate,” I tell her as I take her small hand and step forward to wrap my arm around her back. The song is slower than the one she danced to earlier with her brother. The orchestra plays something sweeping and sad, a bit foreboding for my taste. It’s not what I would have picked for a dance with her, but here we are, moving slowly, not quite chest to chest but close enough that I feel like I’m on fire.
She trembles in my arms. I’m equally as nervous. Can she tell?
I haven’t touched her in weeks. Not since that kiss.
“You must have reapplied your lipstick after dinner.”
The red is so perfect.
Her hand on my shoulder squeezes tight. She won’t look at me. Her eyes scan the room.
I don’t remember her feeling so small in my arms before. It brings out a gnawing sort of panic in me, this possessive protectiveness I’m unaccustomed to.
We don’t talk. Maybe it’s her way of punishing me for dragging her out here, or maybe it’s her way of ensuring I don’t read too much into this. It’s just a dance. Harmless.
Only I’m confident if I pressed my lips to that spot on the side of her neck, just below her chin, her pulse would be racing. Her panic is so obvious.
“Tate?”
Still, she won’t look at me.
“My turn!”
Dustin comes barreling onto the dance floor with a laugh, capturing Tate and spinning her away from me.
Laughter bubbles out of her. “Dustin!”
“What? I’ve waited long enough. Don’t I get a turn? C’mon. I slipped the musicians a hundo and told them to play something fast. What’s with this music? It’s like I’m at a funeral.”
Tate doesn’t look back at me as Dustin whisks her away. For a beat too long, I stay where I am—smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, among the crush of bodies. Then I realize I have to move. Carry on. Something.
I could use a drink anyway.
Luke’s nearby, talking to a few of the honorees from the evening. When I walk past and our gazes meet, his eyebrows furrow, not exactly in anger…more like simple curiosity.
I only nod my chin toward him, continuing on my way toward the bar.
