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I was entirely, unreservedly, going to fall for this man.
————
Wade’s hand enveloped mine as we stood off to the side of the dance floor. Chloe’s dress fanned out as Dominic spun her, every layer of tulle and lace floating as if it were weightless. It was gorgeous, perhaps even more so than her ceremony dress. This one screamed winter wedding—long, billowy sleeves that hung off her shoulders like a princess, a corseted top intricately draped, and winter flower appliqués scattered across the bottom of the skirt that snaked their way up toward her waist.
The guests around us clapped as the song for their first dance slowly came to a close. Wade had warned me about what came next, what was traditional in his family. The waltz, apparently, was typically performed by members of the bride and groom’s family immediately following the first dance, and considering I was a ‘potential’ member of the family, I was to be included. But my two left feet when it came to dancing were not pleased about it.
In tandem, we joined the couples and walked onto the dance floor in time with the music. Wade’s mother and stepfather were across the floor from us, Chloe and Dom in the center, Wade’s father and his plaything on the outskirts. Dom’s parents sidled up beside us, along with Wade’s stepbrother, Zane, and a woman I’d not met yet. The floor filled up with aunts, uncles, and possible grandparents, many of whom I had not spoken to yet, and all I could do was pray that no one would pay too close attention to how awkward my moves were.
“It’s just a box step,” Wade whispered, his gaze locking onto mine as he got us into position.
“What the hell is a box step?” I asked, my throat tightening as the music began to play.
“Just follow my lead.”
“Can’t you put me on your feet again?”
“No, baby, not here,” he grinned, amusement painting his features. “One, two, three. One, two, three.” He counted aloud for me, giving me the rhythm, and before I could memorize it, we were off.
I nearly tripped over my heels on the first backward step, but he kept me upright with his hand around my waist. I followed a second behind, out of time until I got the movements right. Right foot back, two, three. Left foot forward, two, three. I knew I was graceless in my movements but the smile he gave me as I slowly got the hang of it made my chest ache.
“There you go,” he said. “You’ve got this. Over and over, just like this. Just us.” His fingers splayed out against my back, pulling me just a tiny bit closer to him.
“Just us,” I repeated, nodding.
“Until the spin,” he clarified.
“The spin?”
“Oh, and the lift.”
“What—”
The air loosened from my lungs as his hands gripped me around the waist and hoisted me upward. I grabbed him by the shoulders, my heart pounding, my feet dangling. The way he looked up at me made me feel like I was the only one in the room, as if I was the sun shining down on him.
He slid me down his chest slowly, effortlessly, and pressed his lips to mine, no longer caring about staying in time with the music. I kissed him back, taking every second of tranquility he gave me.
But then my feet were on the floor, and we were back to dancing, reality slowly filtering back in. I wanted to thank him for what he’d done at the table. I’d hoped that on the dance floor, with everyone focused on their own partners I’d be able to. But when I looked up at him, it was like words didn’t exist anymore, there was only the here and now, no before and after. It was just us, the music, our steps in time.
Until a hand caught mine and gently pulled me away.
Surprised, Wade let me go, stepping in within a second to take the man’s partner instead. But his eyes watched me closely, his brow furrowed, worry flickering across his cheeks as I turned to the man who had taken me from him.
Alec.
My pulse skyrocketed as I tried to remember the steps of the dance again. Right foot back, two, three. Left foot forward, two, three. Nausea boiled in my stomach. Why had he grabbed me?
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked. The hand he held on my waist made my body cringe, but I did my best not to show it.
I swallowed. “Yes,” I breathed. “It’s better than I imagined it would be.”
One singular, gray brow rose.
“I helped Chloe plan it,” I admitted. “Or shall I say, helped turn her ideas into reality.”
Oh, he mouthed, the sound of it lost behind the crescendo of the music. I couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of formality, something I was meant to be doing, but it irked me just the same. His gut protruded against my stomach, his oiled, slicked-back hair making him look as if he hadn’t washed. He was the pinnacle of a wealthy, older man. A true Tom Buchanan. A man who cared about money and money alone.
I glanced at Wade, his hand so loose around Dawn’s waist. Maybe Wade was Gatsby after all. He wasn’t new money by any means, but there was a tender man beneath the walls he had. I couldn’t imagine Alec having anything resembling tenderness.
