Chapter 19 #2
A pang for those times took him by surprise.
Even before the accident, he’d missed so many get-togethers.
Training and personal appearances took up most of his time, and so did being engaged to Isabella.
He’d wanted to spend time with her, of course—he’d been in love with her—but how much of that time had they really spent alone?
Photographers had always followed them, thanks to tip-offs from Issy and her publicity team.
Walks by the beach, weekends away in Paris, shopping in London.
They were all photo opportunities. It hadn’t bothered him that much at the time because he’d respected it was part of Issy’s work, but with some distance from all that Britain’s Favorite Couple bullshit, his vision had cleared and exhaustion no longer clouded his judgement—nor his heart and soul.
Spending this past week reflecting on his life had made him realize a few things.
Top of the list? Isabella hadn’t stopped loving him, because she was never really in love with him in the first place.
She’d tried her best. He could see that now.
But even with the pressure of the whole nation oohing and ahhing over their seemingly perfect pairing, she hadn’t succeeded.
That’s why there’d been a gap in her heart when she’d met Hunter, a gap big enough to let the other man in.
A beat of the drums yanked Dan back to the present.
It was time for the performance. Like his empty plate, he pushed all thoughts about Isabella to the side and shuffled his chair closer to Libby’s.
Karim immediately climbed onto his lap. Libby got her phone out to record.
She’d already asked Father Piri, and all on stage, for permission and had promised to send them a copy of the footage.
More drums rolled.
On stage, about twenty girls and women of all ages filed out. They all wore flower crowns, blue T-shirts, and straw skirts with what looked like cycling shorts underneath. They were charmingly real and unique. Much like Libby, even with her sparkly eyelashes and red lips. He smiled at her.
“Aren’t they gorgeous?” she said. “How do they even shake their hips that fast?”
Dan dragged his gaze away from Libby’s mouth.
On stage, straw skirts rustled as dancers shimmied their hips to the frantic beat of the drums. A handful of men walked on.
Big guys with shoulders like boulders who didn’t look anywhere near as nimble as the women.
But Dan’s perceptions were wrong. These guys moved with purpose and a steady, flowing beat.
“Wasn’t that so cool?” Libby said when the performance had finished.
The music still played, and people were gathering on the dance floor.
“It’s our turn now,” the kids cried, scrambling out of their seats.
“Come on, I’ll teach you.” Christopher Mac yanked on Dan’s arm.
Dan groaned, grateful to have the excuse of Karim on his lap, but then Libby lifted him off.
“Seize the day,” she said, “and this is just the happy content you need, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Every time he laughed, Libby was there with her camera. She called it Happy Content. He called it the No More Misery Pie campaign. “All right, Chris, show me how it’s done.”
Dan stepped out onto the dance floor and watched Christopher Mac move his skinny legs in the same scissor-like motion that the men had done on stage.
“That’s how you do it,” the kid said.
Dan tried—but his knee screamed no and his hips just wouldn’t work that way anymore. Then the big guys from the stage came over. So did the women. And in minutes, it seemed like the whole island had gathered around him. Waiting. Watching him fail.
“Like this,” one of the big guys said and dipped his hips. The drums beat on, and the women shimmied their skirts. “Go low and move like this.”
Come on, Jones…
Performing under pressure was in his DNA. He could do this. But when he dipped his hip just like the big guy, pain shot through him. “That hurts too much,” he said. Big Guy’s eyes dipped to Dan’s scarred knee.
“No worries, mate,” he said in a broad Aussie accent.
“Do this instead.” Half squatting, Big Guy slapped his shoulders and then his thighs.
It was a warrior dance, like the Haka that the New Zealand rugby players perform before a game.
“That’s it,” Big Guy said, and more men joined in, chanting.
Soon, they were in formation. As Dan tried to copy the others, his movements were clumsy and jagged.
But…the strangest thing happened. He didn’t care.
And by the looks of it, neither did anyone else.
It felt good to move his body like this.
As everyone clapped to a steady beat, Christopher Mac stepped out in front of the formation, performing his impressive scissor-leg move.
He then grabbed Dan’s arm and dragged him out front too.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dan clocked Libby.
Holding Karim on her hip with one hand and her phone with the other, her face beamed.
“Show them what you can do, Cranky,” she said above the clapping and chanting.
That spurned him on to dance just how he wanted, jigging his hips as much as he was able to, pulsing his shoulders with the steady drum beat.
Christopher Mac high-fived him. Everyone cheered and clapped.
Then a rush of fun and excitement burst through him.
He jerked his body, a flash from the past, and—boom! His fist punched the air.
“Yes!” Libby whooped. “The Lightning Strike is back!”
They were the only two people on this whole island who knew what that meant. Their connection was like coming home. Like he’d found another piece of himself. He threw his arms around her and Karim and hugged them tight.
And that’s when the room really erupted with applause.