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She's so fucking beautiful. It defies reasoning.
I meet her in the middle of the room right as a familiar song fills the room. Marvin Gaye.Let's Get it On.
Laurel chuckles. Zack too.
Cassie rolls her eyes.
Damon shoots my brother a look. "Can we be more creative than this?"
"Does the couple have a request for their first dance song," Zack calls. "No commentary from the musical duo allowed."
Cassie mimes zipping her lips.
Damon pulls her into a hug.
"A waltz," Daphne says. "That's one of the styles you know, right?"
I name the first pop-song waltz I can think of, and I guide her into a dance position.
And we move around the room in time with the music. It's messy and silly—we're both out of practice—and perfect for that.
And even though I know this isn't a real marriage, I feel it when I look into her eyes.
And I see it in her smile.
This feels like falling in love.
The grooms joinon the next song. We give them space to share the ceremony, then the entire crew steps onto the dance floor and celebrates with us.
After a few songs, Cassie commandeers the stereo and plays a nonstop mix of Daphne's favorite party songs.
What makes them party songs? I don't know. And I don't even consider asking. That's the quickest route to thirty minutes of Cassie and Damon discussing the merits of various styles of music and lyrics.
Whatever the label, the playlist feels right.
Whatever the music, I hold Daphne close, sway with the rhythm. I'm not sure how long we dance. Time slows and speeds at once.
The songs pass in a blink, and they go on forever.
I want that with her. The bliss of feeling every moment. The free fall of pure flow.
Eventually, we break, fix drinks, mingle, eat delivery cheese pizza. We let our friends and family toast to our new beginnings. We bleed into the party.
It's not that I lose myself, exactly. I know where I stop and she begins. Where I stop and the rest of the world begins. But I don't feel the walls I usually do. I don't feel the need to step back, push people away, deny the love others want to offer.
Maybe it's marriage.
Maybe it's all the cheap gin.
I don't know.
I just know I need her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jackson
Daphne sighs with relief as she steps into our hotel room. Even though it's early by most people's standards, she's exhausted. "What time is it?"
