Page 31 of Last Minute

CHAPTER 21

Ellie

“Dance with me.”

Erik’s voice is low next to my ear, and his breath tickles my bare shoulder, sending a wave of goosebumps down my arm. I turn away from the dance floor where his mother and her new husband have just finished their first dance. The live band jumps right into an upbeat song, a cover of a popular love song that comes on the radio in Brysard.

A smile is the only answer Erik needs as he takes me by the hand and pulls me onto the dance floor that is already being flooded by wedding guests. Erik interlaces our fingers and pulls me close as more bodies press into the small space that’s been cleared of chairs and tables. We bounce and bob in sync with the other guests, giving room when one or two get a little wilder than the rest of us. The alcohol from the cocktail hour and the formal dinner is beginning to make its presence known in the guests that are really going all out to bust a move.

The crowd cheers on a pair that begin a dance off, and I shake my head at the outlandish sight. I’ve already seen my share of over-the-top today, beginning with the extravagant ceremony and overexaggerated proclamations of love and exchanges of vows, so different from the simple Brysard wedding customs I’m familiar with.

While the gentry in Brysard are no strangers to pomp and circumstance, they still favor the traditional short and simple vows over the complex declarations of love Shannon and Jamison shared with each other. While they each read from their notes, reciting lengthy vows prepared on their own, I recited the traditional Brysard vows to myself:

You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself,

But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.

You cannot command me, for I am a free person,

But I shall serve you in the ways you require.

Our love is never-ending, and we will remain, forevermore, equals in our marriage.

I will cherish you through this life and into the next.

This is my wedding vow to you.

Thanks to the long wedding ceremony, the exorbitant amounts of alcohol during the cocktail hour, and a meal that looked like it could be served at a formal state dinner, I’ve had my fill of over-the-top American weddings.

The upbeat song ends and transitions into a slow song. Couples pair around us, and Erik easily pulls me into his chest, placing a hand on my back while the other cradles mine. He leads me in a slow waltz, in time to the smooth male voice of the lead singer.

I beam up at Erik. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“An assignment.” A small smile stretches across his face as he twirls me in a perfect underarm turn. As we come back together, he leads me in a series of more complicated waltz steps, all to my great delight.

“You’re better than most of the nobility I’ve been required to dance with at balls since I was a teenager.”

Erik shrugs casually, never missing a step, but his face reddens at the compliment.

He’s so cute when he’s blushing.

As Erik’s steps carry us around the dance floor, we’re given a wider berth by the other guests, who turn to watch us. When I notice the stares, I duck my head into Erik’s chest, relying on muscle memory and Erik’s leading to avoid running into anyone.

When the song changes again, I take a step away from Erik and look up, but his eyes aren’t on me. Instead, he scans the room with a glower, clearly communicating that the other guests need to mind their own business.

We dance to a few more fast songs, and Erik pulls me to him again when the tempo slows. The lead singer changes places with the guitarist, and I recognize the opening notes of an old Elvis song, made modern by the woman’s lovely voice.

Erik and I drift in a circle, forgoing the more formal waltz for the slow rocking dance of the standard wedding guest.

I can’t drag my eyes away from the dark depths of Erik’s blue eyes, and he looks back at me with the same intensity I saw last night when we attempted to finish our question game.

“You know,” I whisper, but we’re pressed so close that I know Erik can hear me, “you still have one question left.”

Erik purses his lips, but doesn’t say anything. I can’t look away as his head dips closer to mine, his eyes never straying from mine. A breath catches in my throat when his nose brushes mine.

“Ellie,” Erik’s breath is warm against my mouth, but his eyes still hold my attention. I can see the question in them before he voices it. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” My answer is barely a breath, and we finally break eye contact as my eyes drift closed, waiting for Erik’s mouth to meet mine.

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