23. Wyn

Derek and Barbara Anne move together in a way that's practiced and perfect. An exercise in polite restraint. A well-oiled machine. Miller, bless him, looks genuinely moved. Of course I'm happy to see it. I'm thrilled. Seeing grooms happy is what every principal chief executive wedding planning assistant wants. Ask any of us. We'll tell you. It's their day. We want them to be happy, and what could possibly make them happier than seeing their parents, who've been warring for years, getting along well? Nothing, that's what.

I'm completely fine about it.

I am.

It's just that it's quite a long song.

A very long, slow song.

Barbara Anne's gown, a vision in deep emerald dupioni silk, looks like it's been sprayed onto her upper body while the skirt flares out in a way that, frankly, doesn't make her seem altogether human. Or mortal, for that matter. It's a dress that would overpower most women. Of course she wears it with ease. Of course she's spinning and twirling as if she's on wheels and her hair is fanning out behind her like a gold shroud.

Jesus Christ. How fucking long is this fucking song?

There's a tap on my shoulder. Sage's big brown eyes find mine. For once, he doesn't look like a man milliseconds away from achieving zen.

"What d'you say we cut in before they realize they're the two best-looking people here?" he suggests.

I start moving before he's uttered the last word.

The world's longest song ends almost as soon as I have Derek in my grasp. Everyone not already on the dancefloor gets to their feet as "This Kiss" by Faith Hill starts playing.

"The fuck?" mouths Ryan, shooting me a look that's roughly as confused as Miller's.

"Aw"—I give a cheery shrug—"you didn't get your playlist to me. So we're using mine." Confusion fades and turns to horror, so I twist the knife. "And don't even think we won't be playing ‘Sweet Caroline' later. And ‘A Thousand Years.' And ‘Marry You.' Because we are. Mark my words, boys, we're playing all of them! Hold on tight. Every popular wedding song ever written is coming your way. We're having massive wheels of cheese stacked into a tower in lieu of a cake, but believe me, the music is going to be romantic. And wedding-y."

My laughter rings for a beat and fizzles when Derek starts dancing with me. I'm talking real dancing. Arm out to the side, the whole nine. Let's just say that Derek can dance, and I can't. I've never danced like this before. The closest I've come is sitting on the sofa with Bridget and yelling advice at contestants on Dancing with the Stars. It hasn't prepared me nearly as well as I'd hoped.

Turns out, it doesn't matter because Derek can really, really dance. The man can move. His steps are rhythmic and sure. Naturally, he leads. He leads so hard it hardly matters that I don't know what I'm doing. His hand on the small of my back steers me decisively, moving me, winding us around other dancers, finding a path, and carving it out for us. Our path isn't straight. It twists and turns until I'm dizzy and the way ahead of us is clear. Wide open. Ours, with nothing standing in our way.

Nothing but reality, I guess, but you know what? I don't care.

That's a problem for Future Me.

Present Me is in Derek MacAvoy's arms and I'm being spun around as if I'm weightless. Around and around. And around again. The room starts spinning, my head drops back, and peach blossoms and fairy lights blur and swirl above me. Then to my surprise, it starts raining. No, not rain. It's not wet. It's not water. It's a slow downpour of soft, delicate petals. Someone must have opened the doors and the breeze has shaken them loose. Sweet, fragrant blossoms drift down to earth. Miller whoops and punches the air, grabbing Ryan and kissing him so hard his back arches deeply. There are screeches and wolf whistles. Clapping and cheering. My feet leave the ground. I exist three or four feet off the floor. Smiling faces and white teeth glint as I spin. The music fades. It falls quiet around me, though people are still moving. Everything slows. Nothing exists except for glittering black eyes, big hands on my body, and the unmanageable man they belong to.