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“You don’t want to dance with me.”
“I feelsilly.”
“We danced at the bonfire.”
“Yeah. We did. But that wasn’t the bar.”
“Why does it make a difference?”
“Because. I’m... Look at Four Corners—it’s one thing. But look at me.Look at me. It is actually absurd that you’re with me. You are so beautiful. And young, and you’re not an asshole. And I am...”
“I’m here with you. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
He looked at her and he knew he had to decide. To let go of the baggage holding him down to the chair, and to let her be enough.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s dance.”
And he felt ridiculous, having said all of that, but it was true. It was true. She was beautiful, and she was bright like the sun. And he was just Gus. And everyone here knew it.
But she was his. And everyone ought to know that too. That was what it came down to.
So he took her hand and led her out to the dance floor. And of course as soon as they got there, the music went slow. But she leaned on his chest like there was nowhere else she would rather be, and he wrapped his arm around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“Understanding that I needed this.”
And he didn’t know if he actually understood. It was just that it had felt like the right thing to do, and he was jealous, and he was kind of a mess. So he’d done it because he didn’t want any more men rolling up on her. So he’d done it because it was better than sitting there and watching someone else have her.
He didn’t know if it was because he understood.
But right then, part of him wanted to.
And he realized he was going to have to change more of himself than he had anticipated. Because the thing was... Hunter had a point.
He had married a young girl with a lot of expectations about what her life was going to be, and the fact that he was an eighty-year-old man in his soul didn’t mean that she was. He let her out of his sight for five seconds and she had men all over her. It wasn’t about trusting her; it was just about...wanting the world to know that she was his.
He adjusted his head, looked down at her and tilted her chin up. “You’re beautiful. But more than that. You’re mine.”
She fluttered her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. “Am I?”
“Yes. Mine.”
“Well, then you’re mine. I hope you know that. I hope you know I’ve felt that way for a while.”
“Good.”
And suddenly he wondered if he needed to take her on a honeymoon. If he needed to do things a little more traditional. Because the fact was...she wasn’t wrong. He had spent all this time acting like they were one thing during the day and another at night. They slept together, but he had married her and didn’t really treat her like a wife.
Did he need to buy her flowers? Take her away to fancy dinners? He knew how to take her to thrift stores and buy her frying pans. He wasn’t sure that was romance. He didn’t really know how to do romance.
He’d taken her on that picnic because he felt compelled to, but he didn’t know if that was romance either.
“What’s up, Gus?”
“Just trying to figure out what the hell to do with you.”
