Page 121 of The Singles Club

“I love you, too, baby.”

We got back into a traditional pose and swayed to the music.

“Can I ask you one thing?” she asked.

“What?”

“Do you love Vivian?”

“Mom, now is not the time.”

“There’s always time for love.”

I nodded. “I love Vivian very much.”

She smiled. “Then why aren’t you dancing with her?”

My feet stilled, and she pulled away, looking to her right. I turned to find Vivian standing at the edge of the dance floor with the hair of Ingrid Bergman and a flowing deep purple gown fit for Ginger Rogers. But that face, that beautiful face would always belong to her and there wasn’t any face like it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m told we have a very special treat for you tonight,” the DJ announced. “The bride’s son, Justin, and his dance partner, Vivian, will be performing a rendition of Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger’s ‘Night and Day.’”

* * *

Vivian

The music started, and I stepped closer to Justin, my stomach in knots. He hadn’t moved an inch, only stared at me half in shock.

Gawd.

Maybe I should’ve talked to him first before showing up like this. But his mother loved my idea, and…

Justin held out his hand, and I slipped my fingers into his palm. Any trace of nerves melted at his touch. I playfully took it away like Ginger did, and he did a little soft shoe before spinning me into his arms.

“You didn’t get on the plane,” he whispered in my ear as we did a short waltz.

“It’s not like I had to stop a war or anything.”

He grinned as he dipped me, his eyes full of that peaceful warmth, and my heart could barely contain the love I felt for this man.

We started into our soft shoe routine. Justin turned the wrong way on the spin and was facing the other way, so I grabbed his hand and spun him toward me. He pulled me in for a waltz step. “The finale’s coming, and I can’t do Astaire’s soft shoe yet.”

“We’ll wing it. Follow my lead, and we’ll do the end dip.”

I did a time step he already knew and clapped my foot for him to do his own after me. Then we did one together before doing the final spin and dip.

The crowd erupted once he pulled me back in his arms again, and the music ended. Justin cupped the side of my cheek and gently brushed his lips with mine. I pressed him closer, and he dipped me again with his mouth still on my own.

“Hey now,” the DJ scolded. “I’m pretty sure making out wasn’t part of Fred and Ginger’s dance number.”

Justin and I laughed, pressing our foreheads together before turning and taking a bow while everyone cheered.

Justin slipped his hand in mine and led me off the dance floor. We weaved our way through the guests and out the back door toward the patio. The night air was chilly up in these mountains, so Justin took off his tuxedo jacket and swung it over my shoulders. The heat from his body still clung to the fabric, and I hugged it closer around me.

His fingers traced along my hair, his intense eyes searching my own. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

I reached for his hands. “Justin, I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

“What about Paris?”