Page 55 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Right now I’m playing a song, as we can’t have dead air.” I must have spaced out in my head for too long. “The question I asked was, “What made you want to dance with Nick?” You have . . .” The presenter looks at the display in front of him. “One minute and twenty-three seconds until the end of the song, then I’ll ask you again. So be ready this time.”

I nod in understanding and look across at Nick, who’s looking back at me with an amused expression on his face.

The presenter, with ultra smooth professionalism, recaps for the listeners who he’s interviewing, and cleverly disguises the fact that I fluffed it—for which I’m grateful. And this time, when he asks his question, I’m ready.

“When you’re dancing in top-level competitions in ballroom dancing, you need the right partner. Someone who’s in sync with you. It has to be someone you trust implicitly. But even then, there has to be that extra connection, so you can dance with a harmony and fluidity that feels and looks like you’re dancing as one. Sometimes you click straight away with a dancing partner, and sometimes it takes a while to develop. Nick has all of that and is a very special person to me. I can’t imagine not dancing with him. I’d rather not dance at all than not dance with Nick.”

There are a few seconds of silence which, this time, I think the presenter deliberately leaves in and then hits me with another question.

“Is it true that you’re also in a relationship with Nick?”

“Yes,” I answer, without even thinking. There are a few more questions for the both of us, some about the future, which I avoid answering other than to say that I’m considering my options. Then we’re finished and allowed to leave. It’s getting late, and we walk back to the bus station. Nick shops for sweets, as he says that was intense and he needs some sugar to cope. He offers me one and I suck on a Love Heart while we walk.

“What you said was beautiful,” he says softly. “Thank you.”

“Every word was true.” I meant every word of it.

“Do you know you just came out on air?” He drops in casually.

“What? Wait! Did I? I just thought everyone knew anyway.” I stop and look at him and his expression is a little painful. It tugs on my heart and I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong.

“Even if others know, there is an expectation that people need to announce it.”

“Urgh, that sucks.” I grimace and his expression softens.

“I just want you to know that now you’ve confirmed it, you are more likely to get asked about it.”

I hadn’t thought about the consequences. I was just answering the question truthfully.

“It just feels so natural that I don’t think of it being a thing I need to tell people about. I can’t define myself as being whatever label people have for me, for us. I’m yours. I feel you fused into my being in a way that is much deeper than the harmony we have when dancing. It’s everything. I think it’s been that way for a long time, but I just didn’t recognise it.”

“You’re incredible. Do you know that?”

My answer to his question is left unsaid as he claims my mouth like he’s claimed my soul.

“How do I look?” Darcy asks for the umpteenth time, and receives the same answer.

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

He flashes his bright green eyes at me and I take a step closer, talking low into his ear. “If you ask me one more time, I’ll show you how gorgeous, and neither of us will be going to this wedding.”

I watch the adorable flush of red spread from under the collar of his shirt, up his neck, and across his face. I have to step away as I’m in danger of acting on my words and I want to go to this wedding, I want to show Darcy the surprise I’ve planned for later.

“That wasn’t fair,” he protests.

“Neither is seeing your handsome face on display twenty-four seven, but some of us just have to bear the burden of that.”

He laughs, and is about to say something no doubt sassy in return, when my mum walks into the front room where we’ve been waiting.

“I think the taxi’s here,” she says, a second before I hear the beep of the horn announcing its arrival.

“You boys have fun then.” She hugs me and then holds out her arms for Darcy, and he allows himself a hug from her, too. I roll my eyes at the wink she gives me over his shoulder and pick up the small bag I have ready.

“What’s that?” Darcy asks as he spots it.

“A surprise. I’ll tell you later.” I keep my face deadpan and receive a frown in return. Too bad. He’ll have to wait.

Darcy is dumbstruck as the taxi drops us off at the entrance to Wortley Hall. He stands there staring at the elegant stone façade of the former stately home. I’m not far behind him. I think it’s stunning as well. Justin and Mark picked a beautiful place to hold their wedding.

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