Chapter 13 Koren
thirteen
Koren
The reception is still going strong when we slip through the side door, hand in hand. The music pulses from the dance floor. Laughter echoes through the room, and no one seems to notice us at first.
Elijah’s parents stand near the bar, dressed to impress and fully immersed in a conversation with someone equally as polished.
His mother’s gaze cuts our way, and her face freezes more than usual from the Botox.
His father’s brow dips before he shifts his gaze back to his wife.
Instinctively, I try to pull my hand back, but Elijah squeezes it tighter, steering us straight toward the storm.
“I can seriously go wait in the van,” I murmur under my breath. “This is Kaci’s wedding, and I don’t want to start drama. Not tonight.”
“Nonsense,” Elijah rasps. “I’m so over my parents, and I’m not afraid of them. If anything, it’s time I start standing up to them.”
“Elijah,” his mother’s voice is edged with concern, “there you are. We were looking for you. I want to introduce you to Lily Wagner’s daughter.”
“I know what you did,” Elijah cuts her off.
His father wastes no time. “Who did what?”
“I know about the calls you made to Koren last year, and how you tried to keep us apart. And I know you’ve spent the last year trying to twist everything I feel for her into something small and temporary.”
His mother glances at me, then back at him with that polished smile. “Sweetheart, we only ever wanted—”
“Control.” He cuts her off again. “You wanted to confuse me just enough that I didn’t fight for her.”
A heavy hush falls nearby. Someone at a nearby table turns toward us.
Elijah lowers his voice, leaning in. “Look, I’m not going to create a scene and ruin the wedding.
It’s honestly not even worth my breath, but I’m letting you know that you lost.” His fingers curl even tighter around mine, sending my heart soaring.
Then, firmly, he adds, “Even though you did everything you could to confuse me, it didn’t work.
I love Koren. I always have and always will. ”
The words hit my heart like something sacred.
His gaze slides to me. Something unspoken passes between us.
It’s not forgiveness as I no longer feel like we need that.
It’s more like a settling into our union.
Elijah doesn’t give his parents a chance to say anything more as he tugs on my hand and says, “Let’s dance. ”
It’s my turn to tighten my grip on his hand as we turn away. The hum of everyone’s side conversations fades beneath the music as the next song begins. I hesitate at the edge of the dance floor, my fingers still laced with his. “I remember this song.”
He smiles, cocking his head toward the speakers as the opening chords drift through the room. “It’s the one you murdered at Axl’s karaoke birthday night, remember?”
A laugh from deep in my belly escapes. I can’t help but get defensive. “You mean you murdered it. I carried us all the way through with my dance moves.”
“Oh, please. Don’t you remember the applause I got? I was clearly the crowd favorite.”
“Because you took your shirt off in a room full of women.” I roll my eyes but allow him to guide me onto the dance floor.
Butterflies flutter to life in my gut. The exact ones I haven’t felt in a year.
As soon as the sensation returns, I curl my toes, welcoming them.
The glow of the lights creates little patterns on the floor that help us to find our place.
With his hand resting warm on my lower back, I wrap my arms around his neck like they never left.
We move effortlessly together from memory and instinct.
“So …” he murmurs, eyes never leaving mine, “can you say you missed me now?”
“Maybe a little.”
He spins me gently and, as if we are thinking the same thing, we eye my strap. “Your dress is holding up nicely,” he says after it doesn’t move.
“For now.”
The song shifts into the chorus, and I unapologetically step on his toe. “Still a terrible dancer,” he observes out loud.
“Sacrifices must be made for art.” I laugh easily this time.
We dance in silence for the entire song, but as the final notes linger in the air, Elijah lowers his head, his forehead brushing mine. “May I?”
“Why do you ask now?” I crack a wide smile. “You didn’t the last two times you kissed me.”
He smiles and presses his lips into mine—soft, slow, and full of all the things we haven’t said in a year. Around us, the room keeps spinning. Everyone can see us, including his parents, but for this moment, the dance floor belongs only to us.
I break our kiss, and rest my head against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath his button-up. Man, even this I missed.
I don’t want the song to end.
I don’t want this to end.
Maybe it’s some sort of PTSD from losing him last year, but I hold onto him so tightly. I tilt my head up and study his jaw, strong and relaxed. A satisfied smile tugs at his lips, as if he’s perfectly content just to hold me here.
It feels big.
That was the only word I have for it. His confession and kisses were big too, but this feels like a moment.
Us. In front of everyone.
After feeling like he purposely avoided telling people about us last time, this is the healing moment I need.
And then, like the DJ has some sort of sadistic sixth sense, the music screeches into ”The Chicken Dance.” Elijah startles and blinks like he’s been slapped.
“’The Chicken Dance?’” he groans. “Sorry, I’m not sure I can do this one.”
Chuckling, I do my best to trap him on the dance floor by grabbing his hand. “Tell that to Kaci and Jackson.”
Before he can escape, two tiny human hurricanes barrel toward us. “Aunt Koren!!” Bella shouts, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Let’s gooo!” says Jackson’s nephew Rigsby, holding Bella’s hand and grabbing one of Elijah’s as everyone starts to form a circle.
We’re trapped. I should feel silly, especially with a questionable dress strap.
But when I look over and see Elijah wiggling like an over-caffeinated bird, and Rigsby wiggling next to him like he’d been training for this his whole life, I sort of melt.
Elijah is ridiculous.
He should have a trigger warning with those dance moves.
He’s making exaggerated wing flaps, sticking his tongue like I don’t know what.
And the kids?
Absolutely losing it.
Rigsby laughs hard, and Bella giggles with delight.
Flapping my fake wings, I try to keep up, but I can’t stop laughing or looking at Elijah.
Really looking at him.
Something inside me thaws.
It’s the way he kneels down to Bella’s eye level so they can flap their wings together. The bigger she smiles at him, the wider is his.
I’m falling in love with him.
No, scratch that. I already was. Always have been.
Right here, during ”The Chicken Dance.” Of all places.
With two sweaty, giggling kids hanging off us, and my dress strap hanging on for dear life.
But it feels like real life. More real than any romantic dinner or moonlit walk.
Him being playful and effortlessly wonderful with kids who aren’t even his.
And a random thought pops into my head: He is going to be an amazing dad someday.
Not just the shows-up-for-the-soccer game kind of dad. The real kind. The hands-on, show-you-how-to-flap-your-chicken-wings kind.
And man, I bite my bottom lip as I take it all in. I can’t believe I almost missed this. I want to be the one doing all of this with him.
Raising tiny humans.
Making joy out of spontaneous moments.
Elijah catches me staring. “You okay there, chicky? You get your wings stuck?” he teases, holding out his hand.
I take it without a peep, using all my strength to steady my heart. “I’m more than okay.”
He spins me around once. Then we jump right back in with the kids, flapping and laughing so hard my cheeks feel as if they might break.
And somewhere in the middle of that ridiculous dance, I gave my heart back to Elijah completely and fully.
It wasn’t hard to do. Especially considering it was always his. I basically just had to see it for myself.