Page 42

Five Years Later

Monterey

I inhale deeply the moment we step out of the limousine, still captivated by the glimmering marquee of the Wilshire Beverly Hills Hotel. The words shine like a beacon in the night, inviting the city’s elite to descend upon this masquerade charity event hosted by the Indy racing community. Even before Danger and I make our official entrance, I feel the burn of excitement in my veins. There is a certain anticipation that settles in my stomach—a swirl of pleasure and nervous energy—because we’re not just showing up to be polite. We’re here together, ready to dazzle, and tonight we get to indulge in a world of decadence and anonymity behind our masks. The paparazzi’s cameras flash from every angle, but I steady my shoulders and grip Danger’s arm. Even with the swirl of lights and strangers around us, I feel safe, anchored by his presence.

“Hey, baby,” Danger murmurs, leaning in so I can hear him above the crowd. His breath grazes my ear, sending a ripple of warmth from my neck all the way down to my toes. “You look so damn stunning tonight.”

My mask is an ornate piece in shimmering black and gold. It covers my face from forehead to just above my lips, revealing the glossy burgundy lipstick that took me an hour to perfect. “Right back at you,” I tease, glancing up at him through my thick lashes. “Though it’s strange to see you without your fireproof racing suit.”

Danger smirks, adjusting the crisp black suit jacket that molds perfectly to his muscular frame. “Well, you can’t exactly show up to a masquerade in sponsor overalls. This is a higher-octane crowd than usual.”

We share a laugh as we move up the red carpet, passing a swirl of other guests in extravagant gowns and tuxedos. I hear the hush of whispered speculation. Despite the masks, everyone pretty much knows that Danger—famed Indy car driver and beloved media darling—is in attendance. And I, Monterey, the wife who stole his heart, am used to the lingering stares. There’s something enchanting in that mild anonymity, though. With our faces partially concealed, it feels like we’ve stumbled into a fantastical realm where we get to reinvent ourselves, if only for a few hours.

Inside, the hotel’s lobby has been transformed. Glittering chandeliers speckle the ceiling with jewels of light, and the polished marble floors reflect an otherworldly glow. Everything looks opulent, from the towering arrangements of red roses placed on gilded stands, to the gilded arches leading into the grand ballroom. A hush of excitement follows Danger’s every step, but he doesn’t seem fazed. That’s one of the things I love about him—no matter the crowd, no matter the camera, he knows how to keep his cool. He’s used to performing at two hundred miles per hour, so a fancy party is child’s play for him.

We pause in the foyer as attendants collect our tickets and direct us inside. Our names are obviously on the list, and they offer a warm greeting. One gentleman in a neat suit holds out his arm. “Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. Welcome. Thank you so much for supporting this charitable evening.”

Danger flashes that perfect grin of his. “It’s our pleasure.” His voice is warm, yet firm—he’s genuine when it comes to giving back to the Indy racing community. Racing gave him everything, and now he wants to make sure he returns the favor whenever he can. I adore that about him.

We’re guided into the ballroom, which is abuzz with color and chatter. Women in flowing, floor-length gowns decorated with sequins spin gracefully, each of them sporting a unique, intricate mask. The men look dashing in their tuxedos and well-fitted suits, each face partially concealed by feathers, leather, or sparkles. The music is a lively, sensual waltz that seems to flutter through the air.

“Wow,” I whisper, my gaze sweeping over the elegant décor. Ivory drapes cascade down the walls, illuminated by golden uplights. An enormous crystal chandelier dangles from the ceiling, scattering tiny diamonds of light across the swirling crowd below. “They really outdid themselves.”

Danger slides a hand around my waist, pulling me closer. “Monterey, we’re going to have a fantastic time tonight.”

I nod, smiling at the underlying promise in his voice. There’s always that electric undercurrent with us, especially at events like this—an unspoken vow that we’ll carve out a moment for ourselves amid all the glitz and glamour.

Before I can whisper anything else, a trio of Danger’s racing buddies notice him. They call out his name, their excitement unmasked despite the facades they wear. He’s quickly drawn into conversation about the upcoming Indy season, the changes in sponsorship, and his best times at the track. I stand patiently by his side, exchanging polite greetings, but my heart is scanning the room. There are swirling silhouettes, masked smiles, and a staccato beat from the string quartet. I crave the dance floor, or perhaps a hidden alcove, somewhere Danger and I can be alone in the midst of this grand spectacle.

Eventually, Danger senses my restlessness. He slips his free arm around me and presses a light kiss to my temple. “Gentlemen, would you excuse us for a bit?” he says to his friends, and I barely notice their polite goodbyes. He leans down to my ear again, his voice so low it sends a tremble through my body. “I’m all yours.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his words. “All mine, hmm?” I slide my hand along his lapel and peer up into his eyes. Even through the mask, I see the familiar spark in that ocean-deep blue of his. “I like the sound of that.”

He offers me his hand, which I accept with a grin, and guides me away from the clusters of people. We weave through the throng, past couples laughing, sipping champagne, exchanging gossip. We end up close to the edge of the dance floor, where the smooth notes of the band beckon us to move in time with the melody. My heels click on the polished floor as we step between a pair of dancers and find ourselves in the center of the swirling group.

Danger releases a soft chuckle as he slides one hand around my waist and places his other hand in mine. “Ready to show them how it’s done, Mrs. Hudson?” he teases, swaying gently at first.

I rise onto my toes, letting him guide me. “I was born ready.” My voice comes out breathier than intended, but the music, the lights, the hush of swirling silk around us—it’s all so intoxicating.

We begin to dance, our bodies moving to the measure of the waltz. The tension of Danger’s grip on my hips sends a rush of heat along my skin, and I swear the fabric of my gown becomes more sensitive against my thighs. Every step is perfectly in sync, which reminds me of how effortless everything can feel with Danger. He’s a race car driver, yes, but he’s also got the heart of a performer, the grace of someone who knows how to be the center of attention and make it look natural.

I tilt my head back, my eyes sliding shut for a moment, and allow the music to lead me. The lights overhead twinkle in golden arcs, the air heavy with perfume and cologne. Somewhere in the periphery, I hear the distant buzz of conversation. But here, locked together in this dance, Danger and I might as well be the only two people in the room.

As the tempo shifts slightly, Danger draws me closer, the heat of his body seeping through the thin material of my dress. “I love you like this,” he whispers, voice husky. “Letting go.”

“I only let go for you, Dylan,” I confess with a soft laugh, tipping my head back so I can see his face. He’s wearing a black mask with understated detailing, letting his powerful jaw and that playful mouth remain visible. “It’s always for you.”

His lips curl into a smoldering smile. He leans in, our masks almost touching. “Keep dancing with me,” he breathes, “then we’ll find a place to be alone.”

My heart hammers at the promise in his tone. We continue to move, weaving in and out of the other couples. At times, the waltz quickens, and we twirl, my skirt fanning out around my legs. Then it slows, letting us press closer, chests almost flush, arms draped around each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. A polite cheer arises from the spectators as we flourish into the final step, and Danger plants a gentle kiss on my knuckles, playing the part of the gallant partner.

A flush creeps up my neck. I wonder if the people around us can sense that my cheeks are alight with more than just the dance. Because Danger and I have that unspoken language, and right now it’s telling me all too clearly that we need a moment away from prying eyes.

The band transitions to a lively tune, and more people flood the dance floor, so Danger threads his fingers through mine and tugs me off to the side. We pass a crowd near the champagne fountain, exchanging pleasantries and waves, but Danger’s attention is singular. He’s scanning the corners of the ballroom, looking for an escape.

Finally, we spot it: A dim corridor leading to one of the smaller adjoining lounges that’s closed off for the event. The lights are lower there, the shadows elongated. As we slip into the quiet darkness, I can still hear the distant hum of voices and music, but it feels muted, as though we’ve entered a secret universe. The corridor is lined with red velvet drapes, parted just enough to reveal a few small alcoves with plush benches. The overhead sconces are turned down low, flickering with a warm glow. It’s almost deserted—perfect for what we crave.

Danger comes to a halt beside a tall potted palm. He turns, pins me gently against the wall, and slides his hands around my waist, settling on my hips. In the dim light, the intensity in his gaze makes my stomach flip. “Finally,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine. “I get you all to myself.”

I arch a brow behind my mask, letting my fingers trace the lapel of his jacket. “You say that like you’re about to devour me.”

“Is that a problem?” He nudges the tip of my mask up just enough so his lips can press against my jawline, then trail a fiery line down my neck. The small contact draws a gasp from me.

“Not even close,” I manage between breaths, my eyes fluttering. I tilt my head to the side to grant him access. Each brush of his mouth sends heat rolling through my body. The plush carpet under my heels, the silky drapery behind me—it all seems to fade, replaced by the crescendoing throb of my heartbeat.

Danger’s mouth finds mine before I can speak again, and his kiss is more searing than usual, as though the pulse of the entire evening has fueled his desire. I kiss him back fiercely, tangling my fingers in his thick, dark hair and forgetting for a moment that we’re at a public event. The promise of anonymity behind these masks emboldens me. I can taste the faint hint of champagne on his lips, sweet and dangerous all at once. Our bodies press together, and a little sound escapes my throat.

“Monterey,” he whispers against my lips, “I’ve been dreaming about this all night.”

I chuckle breathlessly, brushing his lower lip with my thumb. “You and me both.”

He takes my wrist, guiding my hand to the back of his neck. “I want to make you feel how much I’ve missed you, even when we were only a couple feet apart on that dance floor.”

I open my mouth to respond, but his next kiss steals the words. He palms my hips, his grip urgent, yet careful, the warmth of his hands seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. We’re hidden enough to indulge in a deeper kind of passion without prying eyes, but the underlying risk is there. The possibility that someone might wander by and see us in this compromising moment is a thrill all on its own.

I break the kiss, chest rising and falling in quick succession, and let out a quiet laugh. “What if someone?—?”

Danger answers by trailing his fingers up my sides, stroking my bare arms. “We’re at a masquerade, sweetheart. Everyone’s disguised, no one really cares. Let’s just… take a moment.”

I don’t need more convincing. He leans down to tease the shell of my ear with his teeth, and I arch against him. Our bodies are a tangle of limbs and urgent breaths. The distant strains of music from the ballroom occasionally swell, reminding me of our earlier dance. Part of me wants to drag him right back to that dance floor, just so everyone can see how I come alive in his arms—but the other part desperately wants this secrecy, this stolen interlude.

He anchors me against the wall, pressing a gentle knee between mine. “Tonight’s been perfect,” he murmurs, lips traveling to the curve of my neck. “But it’s always you, Monterey. You make the moment.”

I thread my arms around his neck, melting into his warmth. “I love you, Dylan.” My voice shakes with desire, a throaty confession.

In response, he kisses me again, more slowly this time. His lips part mine with languid precision, drawing out soft moans. Every nerve in my body seems to stand at attention for him. Even the friction of my dress against his suit sets fire to my skin. I curl my fingers into the collar of his jacket, trying to pull him even closer.

He breaks away, breathing heavily, his forehead touching mine. “We should—” he begins, but stops. “We should get back… eventually.”

I let out a shaky laugh, still dizzy from the taste of him. “Eventually.” My lipstick is probably smudged, but I hardly care. My heart is hammering with a pounding euphoria, and I know my cheeks must be flushed. Even behind the mask, I feel wildly exposed, in the best possible way.

He unzips his pants, and then pushes my dress up. “I need you right now.”

My fingers curl into his hair as he slams into my with one punishing thrust. I can’t believe we’re doing this right here. Anyone could walk by. But that’s Danger for you. He doesn’t care. He lives in the moment. Always.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “So fucking good.” He keeps pushing into me, our breaths mingling together.

“Ah, Danger,” I whisper out so nobody can overhear us.

“Your tight pussy has a good grip of my cock. Make me come, Monterey. Please, make me come.”

Hearing him beg me turns me on more than I already am. The thrill and excitement that anybody could walk by at this very moment makes it all that much more enticing.

He keeps me pinned to the wall, his hips bucking into me at a rapid pace. His hands are firm, holding me in place as he continues to fuck me with reckless abandon.

“Oh, Danger,” I moan out, my body terrifyingly close to coming undone. He loves it when I call him Danger. When I open my eyes I can see the many people scattered all over the ballroom. None of them pay us any attention, but it makes my heart beat faster knowing we could be seen at any moment.

Danger must sense this because his lips curl into a smile. “You like this, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” I say back. This isn’t the first time Danger and I have made out in public, but still every time feels like the first time.

My body builds and builds, my orgasm blooming just out of reach. Danger lifts one hand, wrapping it around my neck, squeezing gently.

“I need to make my wife come,” he whispers across my lips. “Come for me, wife. Before I scream out and gather an audience.”

My eyes widen as an audible gasp escapes my lips.

Danger smiles wider. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me fucking you in front of an audience?”

My mind scrambles, the image coming alive inside my mind. Would I enjoy people watching us? Maybe I would. I don’t know, but I do know I like the idea of it. “I’m so close,” I let him know. All the sensations center around my core and my body comes alive on his next thrust. My orgasm starts off slowly, gaining speed with each punch of his hips. “Oh, Danger,” I whisper-scream close to his ear so nobody hears me.

Danger’s grip on my neck tightens, his thumb centering over my pulse point. “You’re so beautiful when you come for me.” He doesn’t let go until my orgasm races through me. He keeps fucking me, his body never slowing down.

I barely catch my breath before I feel the pulse of his dick. Before I feel the subtle jerk of his body, letting me know his orgasm has come.

“Fuck me, Monterey. I want your pussy milking my come from me.” He releases my throat and presses a hand against the wall behind me. “Keep squeezing my thick cock with that tight pussy.” He keeps pushing into me, over and over as his eyes bore into mine.

“ Danger, ahh ,” I moan as our bodies come to a crescendo of breaths and sighs.

Danger brushes his thumb across my lower lip, a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Your lipstick’s messed up, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Well, that’s your fault, Mr. Hudson.”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ll let you fix it in a minute.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, featherlight. “Let’s head to that lounge so we can catch our breath and tidy up. Then I’ll take you to get another drink.”

His suggestion is practical, yet the look in his eyes tells me he’s far from done with me. With our fingers intertwined, we move deeper into the corridor, finding a small side lounge that’s cloaked in darkness except for a single low lamp. The plush couches are vacant—apparently, no one’s decided to hide away in here just yet. A quick glance around reveals no prying eyes. The rhythmic thump of music from the ballroom remains a distant backdrop, punctuated occasionally by laughter or the ding of silverware.

I head into a restroom to clean myself up, and when I’m done I exit into the lounge area.

Setting my purse on a side table, I fish out a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick. Danger stands watch by the archway, his hands in his pockets, a playful grin teasing his mouth.

“Turning guard dog on me, handsome?” I ask, carefully reapplying the burgundy color.

“Just making sure no one interrupts your retouch.” He arches a brow beneath his mask. “I’d rather keep your lips to myself tonight.”

I snap the mirror shut and slip it into my purse, trying to quell the wild flutter in my chest. “You drive a hard bargain.”

With graceful strides, he closes the distance between us, capturing my mouth again briefly before I can protest. “Your lipstick tastes good,” he murmurs, and we dissolve into laughter. The tension between us is a palpable current, like the hum of an engine at idle, ready to rev up any second. Even so, a sense of calm washes over me, too—being alone with him is like coming home.

We linger in that small lounge for a few moments, catching our breath, stealing more gentle kisses. Then Danger extends his hand. “Shall we get back to the main event? After all, we’re here for charity. Gotta show some face.”

I slip my fingers into his, a surge of affection swelling my heart. “Of course. But no more long interruptions for your racing friends, deal?”

He laughs, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Deal. I’ll just tell them my wife’s threatened to drag me onto the dance floor for the rest of the night.”

I smirk. “I actually might do that.”

A minute later, we emerge back into the bustling grandeur of the ballroom. It’s as though time outside has accelerated while we were hidden away, because the dance floor is crowded with even more elegantly clad guests. The band is playing a spirited tune, and swirling colors fill my vision—emerald, sapphire, ruby, gold. Danger leads me to the edge of the crowd, and we greet a few people, offering warm smiles and laughter. One philanthropic organizer approaches us with a bright smile, trying to speak over the music.

“Danger! Monterey! So glad you could make it,” she exclaims. “We’re expecting to raise a record amount for our underprivileged youth program this year. Your presence means the world.”

I squeeze Danger’s hand, feeling a swell of pride at how loved he is in this community. He nods graciously and says, “That’s fantastic news. Just let us know if there’s anything else we can do to help. We believe in this cause wholeheartedly.”

The organizer thanks us and invites us to the front of the room in a few minutes, where they’ll announce the donors and hold an auction for exclusive racing memorabilia. Danger agrees politely, and she swishes off into the crowd.

A slow song begins, cutting through the noise with a seductive note. Even with people clamoring for Danger’s attention, he’s already drifting toward me, an unspoken invitation in his eyes. “We have time for at least one more dance, right?” he murmurs, pulling me in gently.

I lay a hand on his shoulder, molding my body to his. “Mmm, absolutely.”

With measured steps, we glide onto the dance floor once more. This time, the crowd seems to thin around us. Maybe it’s the nature of this particular track: it’s quieter, more intimate, encouraging couples to hold each other close. Danger’s hand slides around my waist, bringing me flush against him, and I rest my palm against his chest. Behind the black and gold mask, I close my eyes, inhaling his cologne, letting the soft chords carry me away.

“You feel so good,” he whispers in my ear. “So warm. I love how you fit right here.”

A soft smile spreads across my face. “Your perfect puzzle piece,” I tease, referencing how we align as if we’re created for one another.

He chuckles. “That’s one way to put it.”

The melody slows to a near hush, and we rock gently, pressed tight. My cheek rests against his, the faint stubble on his jaw brushing my skin. I can’t resist kissing him there, just a featherlight peck, but he catches my lips in return, swallowing my soft gasp. It’s not a showy kiss—just an exchange of warmth that seals us off from the rest of the world for a fleeting moment.

Suddenly, the music eases to a stop, and light applause peppers the room. Danger guides me off the dance floor, a hand at the small of my back, and we join the others milling around near the front. A distinguished gentleman in a polished tuxedo steps up to the microphone, tapping it gently to get everyone’s attention. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he booms, voice echoing in the grand space. “On behalf of the Indy racing community, we’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight to support our youth outreach program.”

The crowd hushes, and Danger keeps me tucked close to his side. I watch the speaker with keen interest, though my heart is still galloping from that heated moment with Danger.

“As you all know,” the gentleman continues, “our goal this evening is to raise funds to provide educational programs, mechanical workshops, and safe racing experiences for kids who might not otherwise have a chance. We appreciate every single donation. Now, before we begin our auction, I’d like to recognize some notable contributors…”

When the speaker calls out Danger’s name, applause resounds through the hall. Danger offers a gracious nod, his hand never leaving mine. My chest swells with pride for him, for who he is, not just what he represents to the racing world. The speech continues, acknowledging other big donors, including a few of Danger’s sponsors. Then the announcer smiles at me, announcing the Grander Racing Team. I smile and nod, thankful to help out.

The auction starts, with prized racing helmets, suits, and other collectibles going under the hammer. Danger and I watch, occasionally placing a bid here or there.

A swirl of excitement sweeps through me. Is it the adrenaline from the bidding war? Or is it the lingering heat from that corner rendezvous? Either way, my body hums with energy. Once the auction ends, and the program transitions to casual mingling, Danger turns to me, an eager glint in his eye.

“Feel like some fresh air?” he asks over the hum of conversation.

I nod immediately. We slip out onto the hotel’s terrace, where strings of white lights twinkle overhead. Beyond the terrace walls, the shimmering cityscape of Beverly Hills stretches out. A slight breeze rustles the palm trees. It’s a welcome silence.

For a moment, we stand at the railing, gazing at the skyline. Danger wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him. “This is beautiful,” I remark softly.

He presses his lips to my temple. “Not as beautiful as you.”

A laugh escapes me. “You’re cheesy tonight,” I tease, though I love his affection.

“I can’t help it.” He angles his body so he’s in front of me, effectively blocking out the rest of the view. The string lights cast a faint glow over the planes of his face. “I’m on top of the world, married to the woman of my dreams, at a glamorous party, raising money for a cause I care about. What’s there not to be cheesy about?”

Warmth flutters in my chest. I reach up and remove my mask, letting my face breathe. Danger does the same. For a second, we just look at each other—no disguise, no pretense. I see the sincerity in his eyes, the same tenderness that first made me fall for him.

“Dance with me, Danger,” I whisper, motioning to the small patch of open terrace. The faint music from inside is still audible if you listen closely, though it’s subdued. “One last dance, just you and me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Gently, he takes my hand, and we sway under the night sky, the city lights glimmering behind us. There’s no formal choreography, just the natural rhythm of two people in love. Our feet barely move, but every shift of our bodies feels deliberate, intimate. He threads his fingers through my hair, tipping my chin up, and I can’t resist kissing him slowly. The breeze flutters around us, carrying the muffled laughter and music from inside.

“You make me crazy,” he murmurs. “In the best way.”

I gaze into his eyes. “I hope that never changes.”

He grins, brushing a lock of hair from my cheek. “It won’t, Mon. I promise.”

For a while, we remain like this, dancing, kissing, sharing whispered confessions that only the stars can hear. My entire body feels alive, pulsing with the memory of our stolen moment in that dark corridor, of how he looked at me on the dance floor, of the vow we renew every time we fall into each other’s arms.

Eventually, the night deepens and the terrace becomes quieter. The clock inside the ballroom strikes the later hours, signaling that the formal festivities are nearing their end. Still, neither of us wants to leave this fleeting sanctuary.

“Do we have to go back in?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder.

He cradles me in his arms. “Only if you want to. But I think we’ve done our part. We can say good night, slip away.”

I consider it, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. “All right. Let’s make the rounds and head out. We’ve got someone special waiting for us at home.”

Danger chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Absolutely.” He leans in, voice deepening with unmistakable intention. “Let’s get home.”

Warmth blooms through me. “Well, Mr. Hudson,” I say with a playful lilt, “I’m not one to turn down a night like that.”

He kisses me once more, tender but with enough promise to send a delicious shiver skittering through me. Then we both straighten our clothes, slip our masks back into place—if only for the short walk back through the ballroom—and head inside to offer our goodbyes. Our friends wave, some looking tipsy from the free-flowing champagne, others still animatedly discussing the auction. The host thanks us profusely for our attendance. Danger, gracious as ever, offers a round of handshakes, but keeps me tucked securely under his arm.

We make our exit to a chorus of polite applause and the flash of a few cameras, though less than earlier in the evening. The real rush was at the start, and by now, many have already begun to leave or found their own private corners of the hotel. The night air outside is cooler than before, but Danger’s arm around me keeps me warm. Our limousine waits at the curb, a sleek shadow under the yellowish glow of the streetlights.

As we slide into the backseat, Danger reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together in a silent, tender promise. I rest my head on his shoulder. “Did you get everything you wanted from tonight?” I ask quietly, gazing at him through lowered lashes.

He turns to me, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “I got more than I ever hoped for. And the night’s not over, love. Not by a long shot.”

A smile curves my lips as I let my eyes close, savoring the way the city lights flicker across my skin. The driver eases the limo into motion, and I feel the subtle hum beneath the seats as we roll away from the Wilshire Beverly Hills. In my mind, I can still taste the champagne, hear the strains of violins, sense the feathered masks and swirling gowns. But all that pales in comparison to the burn in my veins every time Danger’s eyes meet mine.

He leans in, his whisper warm against my ear. “Thank you for dancing with me, Monterey.”

I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. “Anytime. Always.”

He kisses me gently then, a lingering caress that seals our shared vows. It’s the same promise we renew again and again, whether in the midst of a thousand flashing cameras or in the darkness of a secluded corridor. It’s a vow that pulses through every heartbeat we share: in this life, it’s Danger and Monterey, forever dancing in each other’s arms, stealing heated moments in the dark, and shining bright for the world when they want us to.

I can’t stop the contented sigh that escapes me. This is our story—an endless waltz between the public stage and the private hush, between the exhilarating chaos of speed and the languid sway of a secret corner. No matter the tune, no matter the crowd, we’ll always find each other, pressed close in a dance that started the moment I said yes.

And tonight, enveloped by the glow of city lights and the hum of the limo, we rest in that promise, already anticipating the next moment when we can disappear from the world and collide like gravity and stars all over again.