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Not one.
Only the thought of Della and of what might have happened to my real mom dims my smile, but when I’m not actively thinking of anything, I’m grinning.
Three alphas gave me an insane version of a nest, and I think I love it.
“I slept really well,” I say.
I’ve never slept so well. Warm, happy, comfortable, and surrounded by so much soft coziness I never wanted to leave that closet ever again. I’ve never felt so comforted in all my life.
Cian is leading, and he’s doing it so well I know this can’t be the first, second, or even the tenth time he’s danced. He dances better than Lawrence, and Lawrence had instructors teach him when he was a teenager.
“You look”—Cian’s khaki-green eyes sweep over my face—“well rested.”
He tucks my body closer to the hard warmth of his, the hand on my lower back drifting down toalmostbrush my ass.
“Your hand is too low,” I whisper.
His expression is innocent. “Is it? Sorry.”
He leaves his hand right where it is. I should tell him to move it or move back so we’re not practically nuzzling each other. But I stay right where I am and subtly sniff. I love the way he smells too much not to take advantage of us being so close.
Meeting his gaze for a second, I look away, out through the double windows and the garden outside, trying to regain my composure. There’s no music this time. Just us moving across a polished dance floor. As strange as it is, somehow it’s more intimate with no music than when he played soft, romantic jazz.
“She’s alive.”
At Cian’s quiet words, I wrench my gaze back to his. He slows our dance as if he knows I need time to process two words I’m desperate to believe mean what I think they mean.
Please let him be talking about Della.
In case I’m getting my hopes up for no good reason, I brace myself, stare up at him, and hold my breath as I wait for him to repeat it.
A faint smile gives him crow’s feet. “Your sister is alive. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer. It’s the reason for this dance. To tell you that your sister is alive.”
I stop completely, my hands tightening on his arms as I drag air into my lungs. “You mean it?”
He nods. “I don’t know if she is or was involved with the Wentworths, but—”
I throw myself at him and press my face to his throat, fighting to hold my tears at bay.
I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear him say Della was alive until now. Now I know the world would never have felt right ever again until I’d heard those words.
“I don’t care if she was involved,” I whisper against Cian’s throat as a hot tear burns its way out, defying all my efforts. “I just needed to know my little sister was alive.”
He winds his arms around me and lifts me off the ground, pressing a kiss to my bare right shoulder. “She’s alive.”
I squeeze him tighter. “Tell me again.”
I’ve never ordered anyone a day in my life. But I need to know I’m not imagining this.
“Della is alive. Your sister is alive.”
I cling to him, breathing in his scent as I inhale the possibility I might see my little sister again soon. Even if it’s not soon, I can wait. I can wait forever because she’s alive.
As I cry my feelings out, Cian moves us in a dance he should not know.
Once I’ve regained control of my tears, I peel my face from his throat. “You shouldn’t know how to dance a slow foxtrot.”
He blinks. “Is that what this dance is?”
