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“Only Baby Boomers know how,” Neil joked.
“You’re a Baby Boomer,” I reminded him as El-Mudad helped me scoot my chair back. I took his hand as I stood and let him lead me to the floor.
“It isn’t a weird song to dance to,” he said, gesturing to some of the other couples on the floor.
“Yeah. If you pull out your very best wedding reception moves.” Still, I couldn’t complain about El-Mudad’s arm around my waist, pulling me into his body.
He took my hand and held it up like we were going to waltz or something. “Like this. Slow, quick, quick, slow, slow—”
My feet tangled; I was not a good dancer.
“You’ll get it,” he promised. “Trust me, there is a way to dance to any kind of music.”
“I had no idea you were so into dancing.” It was hard to concentrate on my feet and talk at the same time, so I had to let him drag me around quite a bit.
He didn’t seem to mind. Or even break a sweat. “You wanted to get to know me better. There’s something you didn’t know before.”
“I’m intrigued. What other fun little hobbies am I going to find out about?” I already knew about the cars and the kinky sex. Dancing was a surprise.
Without any warning, he spun me away from him, and my natural reaction was to go with the flow. Then, he jerked me back, and the skirt of my black floral print Diane Von Furstenberg dress flared out a little too much. I smoothed it down in a moment of panic. Standing on my tiptoes, I whispered into his ear. “Don’t do that, again. I’m not wearing panties.”
He pulled back to look me in the eye, shock on his features.
“You wanted to get to know me better,” I reminded him.
He laughed and leaned down to press his forehead against mine, swaying us both to the goofy beat. I glanced over at our table, where Neil watched us, grinning, despite his personal feelings about the music. It felt natural. It felt like…
Like we belonged together.
The overwhelming giddiness of new love rushed over me; I hadn’t felt it since Neil and I had started dating. It was like revisiting an old friend. I hadn’t felt this feeling in years, but it seemed like only yesterday. And I wasn’t the only one caught up in it, which made it even better.
How did people do this? I had no road map for being in love with two people at once and making a relationship out of it. But this felt so natural…if we just went with it, was that all it would take to make it work?
Should I just let my emotions drag me around, the way I was letting El-Mudad drag me around the dance floor? I hoped it would involve a lot less tripping and stepping on someone else’s toes.
“What about you?” El-Mudad asked. “Besides fashion and not wearing panties, what do you like?”
“Probably nothing that would impress you,” I admitted. “I don’t dance. I don’t drive expensive cars. I’m a trophy wife. I work more part-time than I should, shop too much, and sit around watching stupid TV shows.”
“All right,” he said with a bob of his head. “What kind of stupid TV shows?”
I highly doubted a guy who traveled the world and had all sorts of exciting experiences would be that acquainted with Netflix. I rolled my eyes and answered, “Once Upon A Time?”
“I know Once Upon A Time,” he said, almost admonishingly.
I laughed at him. “You do not.”
“Of course I do. Amal and Rashida watch some American television to improve their English. Or, at least, that’s their excuse.” He put both of his arms around my waist, no longer keeping up the rhythm of his now-battered feet. “I think they just have a crush on Captain Hook. We wait until the season is finished and watch it together on the weekends, so it will last longer.”
Admittedly, it surprised me that they knew about the show, living in France. I hadn’t realized our television had that kind of reach. But it was beyond enchanting to think of El-Mudad, mega-billionaire with male-model looks, sitting on a couch between two teen girls and consuming vast quantities of Disney fantasy. That gave me tummy flutters for sure. “Okay, so, thoughts on ships?”
“Captain Swan,” he said with a grimace of unwavering rightness.
I made a face. “Are you kidding? Emma and Regina. Swan Queen all the way.”
“You and Amal would get along,” he said confidently.
The song came to an end, and El-Mudad released me to clap for the band. I stood frozen in place. El-Mudad’s kids. Olivia. How would any of this work when they were all inextricable parts of our lives?
How could the three of us work when it would never truly be just the three of us?
