I look around and notice that a lot of people are beginning to stare at us. I groan softly, taking her hand in mine and leading her to the dance floor. The band chooses that moment to play a slow song so I take her hands and latch them around my shoulders before wrapping mine around her small waist.
“What is happening?” she demands.
“We’re dancing. Talk to me and sway,” I order. We begin moving slowly to the music. “What were you going to say to Matt?”
“I was going to congratulate him on the wedding. What did you think I was going to say?”
“Why would you even come here? After everything?”
She looks up and our eyes meet. There’s something wrong with her. Her hand trembles a little in my grip.
“Why do you seem scared?”
“I’m not scared. What are you scared of, Michael?” she retorts. “What did you think I was going to say to Matt?”
“What do you want to say to him?” I press, ignoring her question.
This feels like a game. It’s the starting line and we’re both not ready to make the first move. Neither of us wants to say the words. It’s frustrating. She’s frustrating.
Then she closes her eyes and leans her head against my chest. My cock hardens when she accidentally brushes her body against it.
Relax, pal.
“You’re right. I need to talk to Matt,” she mumbles against my chest.
She leans away, but she’s still not looking at me. She’s staring at the floor.
“I need to talk to him. I-I need to talk to-to both of you,” she stutters.
My eyes widen. Christine doesn’t stutter, ever. And she certainly doesn’t get scared.
“I wasn’t going to say anything here today. I just came to see the both of you and get a grasp on how things were,” she rambles.
“Christine, you’re not making any sense.”
“I-I-I’m pregnant,” she finally says, looking up.
Of all the things I was expecting her to say, that certainly wasn’t in the realm of possibility.
Then she gasps and slaps her hand over her mouth, like she didn’t mean for those words to come out of it. We’ve stopped dancing and my hands detach from her waist.
“What?”
CHAPTER5
CHRISTINE
6 YEARS AGO
“Where are you coming from?” Matt asks as he sidles up next to me.
I look at him, taking note of his puffy eyes and the sad look on his face. It breaks my heart. Matt’s one of those positive, happy-go-lucky people. He always has a smile and he always tries to be optimistic. But his dad’s dead, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know how to help either of them.
“I was checking up on Michael,” I mumble. “He looks like he’s in a bad place.”
Matt nods. “Yeah, I’ve been worried about him, too. It’s so weird. I’ve cried my eyes out, Mom hasn’t stopped crying, and while Mel hasn’t come out of her room in days, at least I’ve heard her crying. But Mike hasn’t cried, not once.”
“He doesn’t seem like the crying type,” I say sadly.