Chapter 55

Evie

Ihaven't had this much fun in years. The traditional Greek dancing and plate throwing are a blast. Dizzy, I stumble, and Brad helps to steady me, making me giggle, thanks in large part to the licorice-smelling spirits I've been given to try. Several times.

Guests are gradually peeling away, claiming they need a good night's sleep before the wedding. Wimps. It's an especially weak excuse given that the bride and groom are still partying. By one a.m., only the immediate family remains. Which for all intents and purposes includes me.

They're a loud, loving family. I can picture my boys fitting right in, horsing around.

Adam is dancing on the far side of the circle, laughing hard at something Anna is shouting in his ear. Red-faced and gleeful, he's achingly handsome. How he's remained single is a miracle.

I sigh, recalling the warmth of his embrace as we danced. As crazy as that sounds, it's quickly climbing the charts as one of the happiest moments of my life.

I'm not used to feelings of irrationality. I'm a straight-thinking woman and a dependable mom. But since I met Adam, I've become a spontaneous risk-taker. And I like it.

Before the music changed he was gearing up to tell me something important. Something about us.

Us. There should be no us.

There are lots of things to figure out. But not at this moment. I'll analyze the hell out of the situation after the wedding. I'm in no condition to do so now. Because now I'm tipsy, aware my inhibitions are fading.

When the band announces the last round, I take a seat, openly eyeing Adam as he makes a final circle around the dance floor, his hair flying, his forehead damp with sweat.

His shirt is unbuttoned and he's wearing it like a jacket. Maybe taking it off completely would be crossing some decorum line for him. Too bad. But I still have an amazing view of his strong, glistening chest. I wipe my chin just in case I'm drooling.

"Eyes up here, missy," Adam calls out with amusement, pointing two fingers at his eyes.

He's caught me staring. Like a parched woman spotting a tall glass of water.

I blush like a tomato.

"Having fun?" he asks, wiping his brow as he approaches.

"Best. Time. Ever."

The smile he gives me sizzles my insides.

Anna and Steph come by. "You two have a good night. See you on the big day."

She gives me a peck on the cheek and Steph squeezes my hand. "Thanks again. You know, for the pep talk."

When the others have left, Adam and I take the elevator to our room. I say, "About the bed?—"

"I'll take the sofa."

That was fast.

His quick offer sparks an irrational pang of hurt. "Thanks," I mumble.

My feelings are a tangled mess. I want nothing more than to be close to Adam. The near-kiss in the pool, the realer-than-real Facetime kiss in his kitchen, the smoldering lip lock in the Salt Lake City hotel. And the dance tonight.

Was it all method acting? Adam immersing himself in the role of loving fiancé? My gut tells me otherwise. He's either an Oscar-worthy performer or . . .

He feels it too.

There's something intense happening between us, a chemical reaction. No, it's deeper than that. It's genuine. And yet.

I don't want to get hurt again.

For no reason I can explain, memories of that day, years ago, come flooding back. Returning home early from work. My phone's dead battery. Entering the house, a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand, my briefcase in the other. Another woman coming out of my bedroom, her hair mussed, her lipstick smeared. My husband frozen in place, his mouth producing a pathetic, "Oh."

Stepping off the elevator, Adam looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm," I manage, doing my best to recover quickly.

We're at the door when I ask, "What did you want to tell me earlier on the dance floor?" A flicker of hope courses through me.

Adam purses his lips. "It can wait until tomorrow." Then he smiles that glorious, sexy smile.

Seems tomorrow is going to be a Big Day in more ways than one.