Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Instead of drifting apart, though, they spun in a circle, their stems tangling together as the river carried them downstream. We watched until they disappeared around the bend.
Drew’s arm encircled my waist and he pulled me against his side. I leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the evening chill.
“I saw it again,” I whispered, shocked. The sun’s last rays were finishing its descent. How was this possible?
“Saw what?”
“The ruby glimmer. In the water. Right where our flowers went in.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I expected him to laugh or tease me about believing in legends.
Instead, he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I saw it, too.”
I looked up at him. “You did?”
“Yeah.” His eyes held mine, serious and soft. “Right when our flowers touched. Just for a second. I thought I might have imagined it.”
Forever kind of love. That’s what Goldie had said. When a ruby hue touches the water, a couple falls into that forever kind of love.
I didn’t know if I believed in legends or magic or signs from the universe. But standing there with Drew’s arm around me, watching the river, not knowing what came next, I wanted to believe.
“This is real now,” I said.
“This is real,” Drew confirmed. “No more pretending.”
“No more pretending,” I echoed.
He kissed me, the faint taste of doughboys and hope on our lips, and I felt something settle deep in my chest.
This is where I was meant to be. With him. In this town. Building something that was ours.
Scared and brave and falling, but not alone.
Never alone again.
We parked in front of the cutest little dance studio, its windows glossy black with ballet cutouts frozen mid-leap. My stomach pitched. My hands wouldn’t stop twisting the hem of my knee-length black skirt.
“Babe,” Drew said gently, “what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to look like an idiot in there.” My voice sounded high-pitched and tight. “Dancing’s not really my thing. I’m terrible at it.”
“Says who?”
“Me. Celia. My mother. My prom date.” My throat constricted. My palms were so damp I was afraid I was going to stain the fabric.
Drew slid his hand over mine, firm and warm. “Two of those are professional liars. That leaves you and some teenage idiot. Not exactly credible sources.”
I gave him a weak side-eye, but a laugh hiccuped out anyway.
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
“Then trust me tonight. I won’t let you down.” He hooked out his pinky.
I groaned. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely. All important promises should be resolved this way.”
Against my better judgement, I linked mine with his.
But as we stepped onto the sidewalk, my breath came in short, shallow bursts. My vision narrowed. My pulse hammered so loud it was all I could hear. Not again. Not in front of everyone.
“I can’t,” I gasped. “I trust you, but I can’t.” My body wasn’t listening to me—I hated the betrayal, the loss of control.
Drew turned, blocking the studio from view, wrapping me in his arms like a shield. “You’re safe. Always safe with me. If you want, we’ll go home right now. We can tell Celia I’m sick.”
Before I could answer, the door swung open.
“Okay, you lovebirds.” Celia’s saccharine-sweet voice grated on my already frayed nerves. “Coming in late so you can make tonight about you once again, Ellie? Tsk, tsk.”
Drew and I sucked in a sharp breath.
Something inside me snapped. Anxiety burned off, leaving anger in its wake.
I unwrapped myself from Drew’s arms and faced her. “Not everything is about you, Celia.” My voice shook, but it was strong enough to make her blink.
The shocked expression on my sister’s face? Priceless.
I pasted on a cheerful smile. “We should get inside so we don’t hold everyone up.”
Drew gave me a look. “Yes?” I knew he was keeping it short so Celia didn’t overhear, but in that one word he was asking if I was completely sure I wanted to do this.
“Yes,” I said firmly, before I could change my mind. I wasn’t going to bow out tonight. I’m sure it’s what my sister expected from me knowing how much I hated to dance, but for once I was going to do the opposite.
“Shoes by the door,” the dance teacher instructed us as we stepped inside.
“Wait … but that’s not … ” Celia looked down at her expensive stilettos. “My outfit.” Then her eyes snapped to the cameraman. “Uh, sorry. I’m being silly. All the stress of planning a wedding so fast is making me forget myself. Let me just slip these off.”
My parents stood across the room barely acknowledging me. The instructor gestured for us to stand next to John, Kyle’s best man, and Celia’s best friend, Angie. My pulse spiked again. Every reminder of their circle of friends scraped like a wound.
“Ellie, you look good,” Angie said. She sounded genuine, but it was hard to tell sometimes with her.
John gave us a chin nod.
I didn’t intend to be all warm and fuzzy towards them tonight, but I could be cordial. Both of them had to have known my sister and Kyle were sleeping together before I did. And that, to me, was inexcusable.
“Okay, everyone let me have your attention. My name is Dee and I’ll be your instructor tonight. Typically I teach ballet and contemporary here in the studio, but ballroom dancing and hip hop have always been a love of mine.”
My hands started to sweat.
Dee smiled brightly. “We’ll polish the waltz, then transition to the choreographed hip hop number. You’ve all practiced, right?”
My stomach plunged as five couples nodded enthusiastically. I had no idea what Dee was talking about.
My fingers latched onto Drew’s forearm like a lifeline.
“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Celia twirled to the center, dragging Kyle with her, beaming like the star of the show.
Heat surged through my neck, anxiety flooding back. My hands shook, my chest tightened, the memory of high school humiliation flashing sharp and raw. Celia and I were in the same class and we had to perform a dance for our final grade and I stumbled so many times the other kids laughed.
Celia got an A and a standing ovation
Drew leaned in close, his chin brushing my shoulder. “Say the word and we’re out of here.”
I forced a breath in. Then another. The five-count inhale, five-count hold, five-count release I’d taught myself when panic tried to steal my air helped.
I gripped his hand. “I’m good.”
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t let Celia’s performance define me.