Page 82 of The Fire We Make

Joy swallowed, her chest tightening.

She didn’t think she’d ever trust that. She’d had a home once but she learned home was conditional. Home could be ripped away once you became too much.

Ella turned to her. “Do you want to get married, Joy?”

She flinched a little but recovered so quickly that anyone who wasn’t studying her too closely would have missed it.

“Oh. Um. Maybe. I’m not sure,” she answered, her poise faltering slightly.

Ella leaned in closer to Pops and despite the gray hair and age showing on their faces, they looked like lovesick teenagers.

“You’ll know when you meet that person. Your person.”

Joy chuckled a little, masking the discomfort with another one of her dazzling smiles.

“I don’t think I have one of those,” she said.

Ella squeezed her arm. “There’s someone for everybody.”

Joy nodded with a tight smile but didn’t verbalize it.

To the other people gathered in their small circle, Joy’s mask of indifference and pleasantness was perfectly intact but Ace could see it slipping.

He could see her dimming.

He set his glass down and leaned in close so he could speak directly into his ear. “Dance with me,” he requested.

Joy turned slightly, and if Ace hadn’t backed up, their lips would have met. She looked at him, seeing his offering of a life jacket and took it. She nodded but paused as she considered what to do with her clutch. Leaving it, and the baby desert eagle concealed inside of it was a non-option but she didn’t want to continue this conversation — or pass up the opportunity to be pressed against Ace.

Ace noticed her hesitant gaze lingering on her bag. “I gotchu, Rose,” he assured her.

“Giving a nigga the power to feed you is giving him the power to starve you. Never put your security in the hands of another motherfucka.”

Byron’s teachings echoed in her head in protest as she considered Ace’s offer. She cringed inwardly. Byron’s voice was beginning to grate on her nerves. Deciding that the lipstick disguised blade tucked into her updo would suffice, she placed the clutch down, leaving it in April’s care.

For reasons unknown to her, she felt confident that she was in good hands with Ace.

Ace chuckled knowingly then extended a hand to her. Joy took it, returning his grin. Ace announced their brief departure and the two swiftly made their way onto the dancefloor.

The pair stood closely, bodies pressed together as they swayed to the music in unison. In one hand, Ace held Joy’s clasped in his while the other was loosely wrapped around her waist. Joy rested her unoccupied hand atop his shoulder. There was no awkward consideration of their stance or formation, nor any discussion on who would lead the slow dance. They fell into each other's embrace easily and commenced their dance effortlessly, taking turns leading and following.

“Thank you,” Joy spoke softly. She hardly needed rescuing from others but somehow, Ace saw that she needed to be rescued from her own thoughts. He didn’t ask questions though, just pulled her in his arms.

It was appreciated and needed.

“No thanks needed,” Ace replied and they fell into silence.

With a feather-light touch, he trailed his middle finger along the furrow in her back. Despite herself, Joy shivered at his touch.

Ace didn’t miss the movement. He didn’t seem to miss anything about her. He chuckled, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of her and earning a glare.

“Asshole,” Joy muttered.

That only made his smile grow.

For the first half of Sarah Vaughan’s rendition of “The Nearness of You”, they swayed in silence, melting into each other’s embrace while getting lost in their own thoughts.

Joy was the first to speak. “Your grandparents seem so in love,” she said softly. Barely audible above the music and noise of the party.