16. Save A Dance For Me
SIXTEEN
SAVE A DANCE FOR ME
Garrett
I slide the cuff of my suit jacket over my wrist and check my watch for the tenth time. The ceremony is about to start, and Dessa hasn’t arrived yet. She said she was coming. Maybe she’s changed her mind after all. Fuck. I was hoping to spend the evening with her arms draped over my shoulders, our bodies pressed together, as we slow dance through the night.
A middle-aged couple strolls to the doorway, pulling me away from my thoughts. I nod to Greg, the other usher who’s standing across from me, to let him know I got this one. I escort them to their seats. Elation surges through me when I turn around and she’s sauntering toward the entrance. Dark, loose curls cascade over her shoulders. A charcoal gray peacoat covers her navy dress. She looks absolutely stunning. Like an angel descending from heaven. I jog to the doorway.
I turn to Greg. “She’s mine.” There’s no way in hell I’m going to let anyone else touch her.
Our eyes lock, and a fire ignites inside me, my smile widening with every step she gets closer.
When she approaches the entrance, I hold out my elbow for her. “Fancy seeing you here.”
She laughs. It’s soft and sweet. “Shut up. You knew I was coming.” She loops her arm through mine. “You don’t have to escort me to my seat.”
I lean in so only she can hear. “It’s my job as an usher to walk every guest to their seat, and one thing I always do is take any job I’m given seriously. Plus, it gives me an excuse to touch you.” I wink.
She peers at me through her lashes, a small smile on her lips. “I can’t believe they wrangled you into being an usher.”
“This is the most important job at a wedding. I dictate where everyone sits. One wrong placement could lead to an argument between enemies, or rivals, or even two scorned lovers.”
“Or ex-best friends.” She smirks.
“That one is more manageable.” I rest my hand on hers, loving the way her warm skin feels against mine. “Anyway, the best man position doesn’t deserve all the hype. You look gorgeous, by the way. The dress looks amazing on you.”
A small giggle escapes her. “You can’t even see the dress under this heavy-ass coat.”
“The bottom is visible, so I’m imagining what the top looks like, and it’s stunning on you.” I slow my pace, mostly so I can get a few extra seconds to talk with her. “What do you say? Since I’m wearing a suit and you’re wearing a dress,” I nod to the front of the room where the wedding arch is located, “should we ask the pastor if he'll do a two-for-one wedding special?”
Her head jerks to mine, and I wiggle my eyebrows. “You’re so full of shit.”
“You shouldn’t say ‘shit’ in church.”
“This isn’t a church.”
“But God is present.” I lift my chin towards the pastor.
“Good try, but not happening.”
“I had to shoot my shot.” My grip around her arm tightens a little more. “I still can’t believe you didn’t want to be my date.”
“That would be so awkward. Girl comes to ex-boyfriend’s wedding as the date of his brother. People would whisper behind their hands about me.” Sarcasm laces her tone.
“Who gives a shit what they say?”
Her gaze flits to mine, indignation written all over her face. Dessa has always tried to maintain a proper front. She never wanted to be on anyone’s bad side and definitely didn’t want to be on top of the gossip pole.
“You shouldn’t say ‘shit.’ God is watching.” She repeats my action by nodding at the pastor.
A laugh bursts out of me, drawing the attention of a few guests. I pretend cough into my fist as we walk by. “Fair.”
“By the way, do you know what I did with my recipe notebook? I had it the night you were over, but now I can’t find it.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Uh. No. You must have misplaced it. You tend to do that a lot.” She can’t know I took it. That would ruin the surprise.
“Damn. Alcohol leads to bad decisions.”
“There were some good decisions made that night.” I give her a flirty wink. She shakes her head but smiles at me.
Once we reach her seat, I reluctantly let her go. I love having her at my side. Before she sits, I bend and brush my lips across her cheek. “Save a dance for me.”
She glances up at me from the corner of her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I flash her a half smile. “I’ll see you at the reception.” Before she can respond, I’m strolling to the entrance with a little extra pep in my step.
The wedding planner informs us that the wedding is about to start and to take our seats.
Reaching into the inside suit jacket pocket, I pull out a pen. On a table next to the door, I find a wedding program and rip off a blank corner piece. I scribble a note before folding it into a small square. On my way to the front of the room to sit with the rest of my family, I drop the note in Dessa’s lap as I pass by. As soon as I take my seat, I glance over my shoulder. With her head bowed, she unfolds the piece of paper. A few seconds later, she lifts her head, and her eyes meet mine. Her eyebrows pinch together, but then a smile slowly graces her lips.