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“I’ve been given permission to sing a few of the songs that are going to be played at the reception, except one.” Elliot held up a single finger and looked over at Milo. “So, we’ve got five or six songs lined up. Oh, and I really love it when people dance.”
He did a few chords of his guitar, his band followed and then Josh Turner’sWould You Go With Mebegan to shape. I made it to the table just as Elliot’s voice filled the air.
“This isn’t Thomas Rhett.” I looked at Madeline as I grabbed Clay’s hand, making him stand from his chair.
Madeline stood and did the same with Milo. “He’ll sing more thanjustThomas Rhett. I snuck some Josh Turner and Jordan Davis in there too.”
“How about some Ben Rector and Chord Overstreet? Maybe some Lumineers?” I looked at her with a wide smile on my face as Clay slinked his arm around my waist.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
More and more people joined us on the dance floor, including Jamie and someone she knew from work, and Elliot looked to be in his element on the stage. His eyes would focus on Milo and Madeline every now and then, and sometimes he would find Jamie.
Now could be a good time to talk to Clay,I thought.
Elliot was choosing slow and simple songs to play, ones to keep the couples close, and Clay’s hands slid up my back, touching my bare skin, making everything come to life. I knew things were different. I knewhewas different. This time, I knew we could make long distance work, something we didn't even try all those years ago. Would we have worked then? Would we be where we are now? There was a lingering thought that we would, but did I want us to? I didn’t want him in another state. I wanted him there with me. I rested my head on his chest, and he kissed the top of my head, raising a hand to trace my jawline, his fingers sliding into my hair.
“Hey, Phe,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
I lifted my head to look up at him, and his lips instantly found mine. His kiss was perfect. Salty and sweet, the perfect amount of passion of want, desire. . . of need. Clay’s kisses always had a hint of familiarity to them, but this one was new. This was one I would be craving. I’ve heard people describe kissing as fireworks, electricity shooting through them, but with Clay it was everything under the sun and then some. Every feeling rushed through my veins when his tongue gently danced with mine, our breathing in sync as we stopped dancing, just focusing on each other. My body tingled, running from my fingertips to my toes. As his kiss deepened, our heartbeats slowed as if we were the only ones that mattered in the entire room.
His forehead leaned against mine as he began to sway once again to the music. His eyes closed as I kissed him again and again, my mind became fuzzy.
“I wish,” he muttered.
“Now,” Elliot’s voice stopped him, somehow sounding louder than when he sang. “This next one is kinda sad, but Maddy loves it so Maddy, I give you. . . ‘The Hill.’”
Slowly, his acoustic guitar began, and Clay’s hands cupped my face. His eyes, full of heat and passion and. . . worry?
“Phe, whatever is going through your mind, it doesn't matter. Only us, only this, matters,” he began, his thumb brushing up against my lip. “I wish we could take back everything. I wish we could start from where we were ten years ago, pretend that these past ten years never happened. Can’t we just begin again right before you turned and walked away? Can’t we just—”
“What?” I asked, my mind focused on his words.Right before you turned and walked away.
I took a single step back, not entirely sure how to respond to that. I didn’t want to erase the past ten years. Those ten years meant a lot to me. Erase the heart ache; yes. Erase the time spent wishing he was with me in that tiny apartment; yes. But those moments could be erased bynewmoments. The ones that were coming next, the ones we have yet to have.
Those ten yearsmeantsomething in our relationship, and to have them all vanish, to just pretend like it never happened? I couldn’t even begin to think what that would do. My brain rushed through the past few months. Clay arriving at the studio, coffee in hand. The food trucks, the trip to the stores, flying through the air with him. Would those moments where I began to fall fade too?
Maybe this is all happening too fast.
“Clay, that’s not—”
“We could. I want to make this work,” he interrupted.
I blinked, traced my fingers down his arms, feeling the way he shivered under my touch. “I do too, more than you probably realize, but—”
“Phe, we have to try,” he whispered.
I furrowed my brow at him. He wasn’t letting me talk. He wasn’t accepting anything but the magic eraser.
I blinked and laced his fingers in mine. “We need to talk.”
“Fighting for you, love That's the hill I’m gonna die on. . .”Elliot finished the song, and a round of applause erupted from the dancers, some shouts from the tables, and once again, just like the night I felt the sting of jealousy; Madeline ran up to the stage, and Elliot bent over to give her a quick hug.
I pulled Clay through the crowd, finding a side room where no one was sitting. He held on to my hand even though I could feel it shaking. Was that him or me shaking? Or both?
“Okay,” I sighed, letting go of his hand to face him. I folded my arms around my chest and looked at the floor. My gold dress shimmered around my feet, pulling me back to the task at hand. I needed to go to New York, just for a few days, and that I did want to try. “JoAnn called me this evening.”
“That’s good. She always calls with amazing news.” He took a single step toward me, his hands finding my arms.
