Page 118 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

George sat across from Dana. She wore a dark green silk dress, her untouched wine glass clutched in her hand. All night, he’d watched her smile and nod at all the right times, but he could tell she was stuck somewhere else.

Truth be told, so was he. George was just more practiced at hiding it.

After what the case had put them through, it was a miracle she was still standing, let alone making polite conversation with his family. Knowing it was about time to rescue her, George stood.

He walked around the long white linen-clothed tables in Muriel’s private upstairs dining room. The wedding party and most of his extended family were in attendance, trading stories and laughter and endless toasts to Cadie and Neville.

It made George wonder what the point of the big ass party tomorrow was.

He didn’t get weddings. Sure, the ceremony and institution was something he could get behind— or at least it used to be . But the expense and pressure that came with it all, thanks to the booming wedding industry, was a bit too extreme for his taste .

He’d always wanted to run off to some exotic destination with his other half and get down to the honeymoon.

Images of Sophie came to him, unbidden. The ring he’d bought her … The nuptials they’d never had a chance to exchange … It’s why he tended to avoid situations like these, rather than be reminded of what he’d lost.

George was selfishly relieved when Dana agreed to join him tonight.

Not just because they both needed reminding there was joy in the world—and if Muriel’s crawfish crepes didn’t prove life was worth livin’, nothing would.

But because he’d hoped showing up with a date on his arm would keep the pitying looks from being cast his way.

What he hadn’t anticipated was having to endure endless questions after explaining he and Dana were just colleagues.

Shelving his frustration, George rounded the table only to be sidelined by his mother.

She pulled him into a tight embrace. “There’s my boy.”

“Hey Mama,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Aren’t they so lovely?” she asked, gazing across the room at Cadie who beamed up at Neville like he’d just handed her the moon and stars.

One look at his sister’s glowing face and George knew if a big fancy over the top wedding like this was what Sophie had wanted, he would’ve given it to her in a heartbeat.

His chest squeezed, like it always did when he thought of his former fiancée, but for the first time, he didn’t turn away from the pain. He tried to welcome it.

What Dana said had stuck with George.

Sophie was a ghost he was grateful to have. Enduring their painful memories meant a part of her was still with him, living on in the world, guiding him. He decided that was something he never wanted to let go of. So, if that meant he had ghosts, so be it.

“I love seeing my babies so happy,” his mother said, putting both her hands on his cheeks. “That means you too, son.”

“I know.”

“Where’s Dana?” she asked .

George spotted her empty seat and looked around. “I was just on my way to go find her.”

“Good boy,” she said, patting his cheek. “She’s good for you,” his mother called after him, but George pretended not to hear as he dodged another of his aunties.

George found Dana outside on the second-floor balcony overlooking Jackson Square. Her wine glass sat on the marble table next to her, still untouched.

“Wine no good?” he asked.

She jumped. “Oh, no … I’m just not in the mood.”

George came to stand next to her at the old wrought iron railing. He didn’t know what color it had begun as, but time and nature had created an oxidized green hue. “Always loved the view from up here.”

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.”