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Erika chuckled, reaching over to ruffle my hair, her fingers threading through it. “Breaking hearts with your dancing skills?”
“You gained some admirers today, too,” she added, teasingly.
“Admirers?” I echoed, playing along.
“Female guests at the wedding.”
I hadn’t noticed because I couldn’t take my eyes off Erika the entire time. She enthralled me. I was caught in her web and there I would stay.
I turned to face her, sincerity in my gaze. “I was only interested in one female guest.”
She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I saw your jealousy spark.”
“I was calm,” I insisted, though I knew it wasn’t entirely true.
“Not when I danced with my partner, Robert,” she pointed out, her voice gentle but firm.
I couldn’t help but defend myself. “He was holding you too close.”
“That’s what you do when you slow dance,” she countered. “Besides, he’s engaged.”
“I don’t care. You’re very desirable.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “Will you ever get over this?”
“No,” I replied honestly.
She sighed, her tone softening. “If I had a ring on my finger and Mrs. before my name?”
My heart skipped a beat. I looked at her, trying to read her expression. “Do you want a ring and Mrs. before your name?”
“Someday,” she admitted.
“Soon? I’m willing to offer that to you.”
“Weddings make me sentimental,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You know my intention is to be your husband,” I said, my voice steady and sure.
“And that could be many months from now,” she replied, her tone growing distant.
My heart sank. I wanted her to be my wife a lot sooner than months from now or years…and I had a feeling her experiences would drive her to push our relationship on and on until I gave her an ultimatum.
“Why are you so adverse to marriage?” I asked, the question lingering between us.
“You know why,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“When will I meet your family?” I pressed, hoping to break through her hesitation.
“I don’t know,” she answered evasively. “My brother, Jim, is off somewhere in Australia surfing.”
“What does he do for a living?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation.
“Nothing. He made plenty of money as a stockbroker, and now he travels the world doing what he wants.”
I nodded, then gently pushed again. “I’d like to meet your parents then.”
“It’s too soon,” she said quickly, almost as if she’d rehearsed the response.
