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Hailey reaches for her wine glass, hiding the pink color blooming across her neck and cheeks.
The song from inside the bar changes, and Hailey’s shoulders relax.
I reach out my hand, taking a chance.
“Dance with me?”
She looks surprised, then bites her lip, thinking. Finally, she sets down her glass and slips her hand in mine.
I wonder if this feels like crossing a threshold to her as much as it does for me.
I don’t care where we go, what we do. I want to spend more days with her. I want to spend all my days with her.
With Hailey, the idea of settling down brings none of the feelings of pressure that I feel back home. Being with her—free and on our own, away from the spotlights and pro and con lists—feels like a pleasant fog, softening all of life’s hard edges.
A mist, a fog, a dream—whatever this is, I never want it to lift.
I’m going to make this moment with Hailey last forever.
10
Hailey
So help my ridiculous heart, I am dancing with this man to the same song they played for the first dance at my friend April’s wedding.
I swear I am two left feet, never having taken a dance class. But with Torben leading, it’s easy.
“I hope that smile means I’m a decent leader?” Torben asks. With his chin at my temple, his breath teases the loose strands of my hair, sending tingles down my neck.
“That and…” I reply, “The last time I danced to this song, I was told I was clumsy. He said I was making him lose track of the tempo or something.”
Torben grunts softly. “Whoever he is, he’s an idiot.”
I laugh. “And I’m smiling because this is an upgrade. A major upgrade. This is a very nice bookend to my whole slow-dancing experience.”
Torben’s hand moves to the small of my back, and I notice the pleasure rippling across my skin when his fingertips curl into the fabric of my top. “A bookend,” he repeats, a smile in his voice. “I hope it’s not an end to anything. I like dancing with you.”
“You do?”
“Hailey, you are a dream in my arms.”
I melt.
Swallowing hard, I hold back my feelings before they gush out. “Hardly.”
“You’re wonderful. Now, say thank you.”
My breasts touch Torben’s ribs when I laugh. His natural spicy scent makes me want to bury my face in his broad chest and take a deep, deep whiff. “Thank you, Torben.”
It’s just dancing, Hailey. He’s in this for a wife, and you are not royal wife material. He’s using you to learn about American culture, with your consent. Dancing is just dancing. A silly American who lives in a double-wide in West Virginia is probably not what he’s looking for.
“What’s that face about?”
He’s caught me ruminating.
“What?”
Torben gazes down at me with curiosity. “You look…off.”
