Page 68 of Not Strictly Ballroom

My dad sighs. “She hesitated for about three seconds before turning away and walking up the gangway.”

He presses his lips together in a grim look before letting out another sigh. “All I felt at the time was an overwhelming sense of relief.”

“Oh, Dad,” Claire says, her voice cracking, and she hugs him. I wipe my palms down my trousers. I want to hug him and forgive him, but there’s a part of me that still hesitates.

“It’s okay, Darcy,” he says tensely. “I know I have to earn your trust and forgiveness.”

I just nod, pleased he understands it isn’t so easy for me to forgive, but I can make a start. “Please stay Dad, I’d like you to.”

“Thanks, son.” His voice sounds relieved.

We seat him next to Nick’s gran, because Nick said that she would be the best person to keep him in line. Not that he needs it. He truly does look repentant. I have no idea what he plans to do, but that’s for him to decide. I do feel glad that he’s made the effort, and I know I’ll be able to let him back into my life in time.

“You know that looks like a weird case of ‘meet the parents,’” Nick says to me sometime later. I look over to the table where my dad and Nick’s gran have been joined by Nick’s parents. They’re all laughing, which is a good sign. They’ve all met before, years ago, but this is the first time since Nick and I have been together.

“They aren’t discussing us, are they?” I ask, suddenly worried.

“Oh, probably.” Nick laughs and drags me away to talk to Riley and Kieran, who have also shown up to lend some support. Now we’ve finished the renovations, we have a bit more spare time. Kieran wants to plan another outing and picnic in the Peak District, maybe with an overnight stop somewhere, which would be fun. I let him chatter on with his plans; his enthusiasm is always turned up to eleven. I tune him out as I look round the room. From Nick’s friends, who are now my friends too, to our families, who are getting on really well. To new friends, such as Justin and Mark, and to the clients who have stood by us. We’ve lost a few, as Nick predicted, but he’s right, we don’t want their business, nor do we need it, as we have others more than willing to take their place. I feel blessed to have this. To have Nick, family, friends, and a future. I catch hold of Nick’s hand, causing him to look down at our hands and then up at me with his most brilliant smile.

It’s getting late, and we’ve just finished tidying up. Most of our family and friends stayed to help clean up, from putting away the chairs and tables, sweeping up, and washing the dishes. Nick’s parents left a few minutes ago and we’ll follow them when we’ve locked up.

I give a final look round in the kitchen and the changing room before heading into the studio where Nick is closing the folding doors out to the garden.

“Well, that was a day and a half,” I say, as he meets me in the middle of the room.

“It was,” he says. “I can’t go through many days like that.”

“But we’ve created something good, haven’t we?” I ask.

“It’s going to be amazing.” He wraps one arm around my waist, touching his lips softly to mine.

I place my arms around his neck. “You have a house.”

“We have a house.” He huffs a little laugh, as if he still can’t believe it. “Do you know what’s the first thing we’re going to buy for our house?”

“What’s that?”

“A bed.”

“A big bed?”

“Such a big-ass bed.” He kisses me gently again and pulls me close. “And I’m not going to let you out of it for a week.”

Excitement at the thought courses through me as I breathe, “Yes, please.” And I fuse my mouth to his, slipping my tongue in, and deepening our connection. My hips have a life of their own as they grind into him, and I feel his reaction. I let a small laugh escape, and he nips at my lip, eliciting a groan I can’t hold in, and he growls in response.

“How soon can they deliver one, do you think?” I ask, breaking the kiss.

“Sadly, not by the time we get home.” He looks rueful. “But tomorrow, for sure.” He gives me a cheeky grin.

Then he takes his phone out, and I see him scrolling until I hear the opening notes of “Open Arms” by Journey playing through the sound system.

“Darcy Franklin,” he says softly. “Love of my life. Shall we dance?”

Eleven months later

British National Ballroom Championships

This is what I live for. This is what I’m made for. This is my life.

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