“Thank you,” I whisper. “I love it,” I add quietly before pulling away a little to study his expression.
He tilts his face to me, and my lips land on his lips.
This was meant to be a quick, frugal kiss on his lips, but I find myself lingering and him not breaking away from me.
And then we kiss again. And we kiss without caring that we’re at a party, sitting at a table, with people walking by, dancing, eating, chatting.
That the people from work are here. His father and that creepy man, Ted Sloane.
I doubt any of them are focused on us, but still, this is a milestone.
Even without a particular significance attached to it.
It really is.
Reluctantly, we break the kiss, both flushed. I notice the blush on his cheeks and feel the heat on my face.
Embarrassed, I lower my eyes, unable to hold Alejandro’s gaze or Francisco’s.
“You’re fine, baby. You don’t need to apologize for how you feel,” Alejandro says, prompting me to raise my eyes and look at him.
He winks at me, plastering a smile over whatever emotion he just pushed back.
I’m grateful for his trying to make it easy for me, but it’s impossible not to peer at him until his eyes come back to me, and we share a stare as if sharing a treasured secret.
I can tell the four of us are nearing the point of pain. Sweet, delicious, addictive, unforgettable pain.
And also a crossroads and a certain truth that has eluded us, maybe, but for now, we’re still together.
Still having fun and celebrating, not only merely being here at this party but also finding our way to each other again, while reining in our emotions so we can taste this amazing life.
The clock is ticking, though, the window of opportunity swiftly closing. Gradually, but still.
The feelings we have fought, not seriously, though, are here with us––silently acknowledged.
We have decided to go on with them for now, but that won’t last for long.
Everybody around the table feels that way, too––I can tell.
That doesn’t mean we won’t keep going. And we might, in fact, get through with our arrangement without giving up.
The tune changes, and more couples head to the dance floor.
“Care for a dance, cariño?” Alejandro tosses at me, glancing over his shoulder at the musicians and the guests.
I look at Kai. There. I caught myself asking for his permission again.
Smiling, he tips his chin down.
“Yes,” I say just as Alejandro shifts his eyes to me.
The exchange between Kai and me hasn’t registered with him, but Francisco noticed it, and he smiles, amused.
So far, so good.
We know the rules of the game and where we stand. And we feel good about where we are and that our group is cohesive again.
Alejandro rises to his feet while I push my chair back and straighten out of my seat, his hand linked to mine.