Page 135 of Girl Between

Dana nodded, taking in the sweeping view of St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square. The sad melody of a trombone busker on the street below reached them and she turned away from the square, looking toward where the Vieux Carré ended, and the modern city sprung to life. “I see it everywhere now,” Dana commented.

George leaned over the railing to follow her gaze. The looming silhouette of the crumbling Plaza Tower stood out in the distance.

“It’s funny,” she mused. “Once someone points something out to you, you can’t help but see it everywhere.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re talking about more than a building?”

“I guess I am,” she said, turning back to face the square. “This city … I always knew it was resilient. But today, it really showed me.”

“How so?” George asked, already humored by Dana’s endearing affection for his hometown.

“Just the pure resilience of everyone in that room would be enough,” she said, nodding toward Muriel’s. “But it’s everyone in New Orleans. It’s the city itself. It’s been through so much—historically and recently. But still, the people here find a way to tap into the strength and spirit that’s fueled this place through generations.” The brightness in her gaze faded suddenly. “I wish I knew how to take a page out of New Orleans’s playbook.”

“I think you do alright,” said George.

Dana gave him a patronizing glare. “I’m at a party and can’t even muster the energy to drink this wine, which I’m sure is wonderful,” she said, picking it up.

George took the glass from her and set it back down on the table, so he could pull Dana into his arms.

She stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Sharing a little of that Nawlins resilience you’re so fond of,” he teased. “Besides, you can’t leave a party without at least one dance. It’s bad luck.”

Dana smiled despite her best efforts not to. “It would be a shame to let the music go to waste.”

George hummed along with the Louis Armstrong tune the busker played below and swayed Dana gently in his arms until she relaxed against him. She settled her head on his shoulder, and he tried not to notice the way her skin glowed in the moonlight.

The flickering gas lamps illuminated sections of her long brown hair, reminding him of the way the sunset danced across the sea. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the ocean and imagine they were on some far-off beach. Two different people, in a different life. One where she might look at him the way he was looking at her now.

The music stopped, the busker calling it a night. Still George wasn’t ready to let go. They swayed together a moment longer, letting the sounds of the city be their symphony. After a while, Dana lifted her head, and the spell was broken.

George stepped back and smiled down at her. “You should give yourself more credit.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“That resilience you were going on about, I see it every time I look at you.”

Even in the darkness he could see her blush.

“Besides,” he added. “Anyone who can dance to the rhythm of this city has already proven she’s got a part of it in her soul.”

Dana smiled. “Thank you.”

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“In a minute.”

George squeezed her hand. “Take your time. I’ll go pull the car around.”

118

Dancingunder the stars with George had been unexpected.

It lifted Dana’s mood considerably, but it didn’t erase her disappointment when she looked at her phone.

The blank message field stared back at her.

Jake still hadn’t responded. Not even after her last message.