“Don’t worry, your brother will come around. He doesn’t have any issue with Christine, but he feels you betrayed him. It’ll be fine, he’s just taking his time,” she assures me before excusing herself and going after her husband.
I turn to Christine, who is staring at me with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” I ask her.
“You’re such a dick,” she says, shaking her head.
“Thanks for the compliment,” I state with an eye roll.
“Too bad you’re a likeable dick,” she mutters.
We say nothing for a few seconds. The tempo of the music being played by the live band shifts to a slow song, and couples begin making their way to the dance floor. I stare at Christine beside me.
“What?” she asks without looking at me.
“Would you like to dance?”
“Not particularly, no,” she replies.
“Come on, Chrissy.”
“And put an even bigger target on my back? No, thank you.” She nods toward my aunt, who is staring at the both of us from across the room.
“Forget about Mel. She’s just being annoyingly protective. It’s what she does.”
She looks up at me. There’s no acquiescence in her eyes.
“You’re going to make me say please, aren’t you?” I ask on a sigh.
She shrugs as a smile blossoms on her face. My heart quickens at the sight. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear it.”
“Okay fine. Christine Lawson, would you please do me the honor of giving me this dance?” I ask grandly.
She fans her face with her hand. “How gracious of you, Mr. Crane,” she says mockingly before extending her hand to me.
“Dork,” I say softly with a smile.
It’s been a while since I called her that. I used to call her that fondly when we were younger. Judging by how she tenses slightly at the words, she must remember it as well.
I lead her onto the dance floor and guide her hands over my neck. My hands rest on her tiny waist and soon enough, we’re swaying slowly, just like everyone else around us. Then, Christine looks up at me and everyone else seems to disappear.
Her eyes, I could get lost in them. When she looks at me like she is now, it’s like I forget all the drama that is our relationship, and I just want her. All of her.
“I will forever be grateful to Sam for signing us all up for all those dance classes and ballet lessons when we were younger,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not. I hated those classes.”
“That’s because your feet have a mind of their own. Everyone else had a pretty good time,” she teases, a
small smile playing on her lips.
She rests her head against my chest and I hold her closer, tightening my arms around her waist. I want so badly to stay here, in this moment. Nothing else matters except us right now. Then, the moment is broken when my mom calls for me.
I groan softly, and without thinking, I brush my lips against her forehead. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her.
My mom introduces me to some French businessmen. After we exchange pleasantries, they walk away with a promise to keep in touch. I’m about to go and find Christine when my mom stops me.
“What’s going on between you and Chrissy?” she questions.