Page 3 of Unwanted Vows

She laughs, her hair a tangle around her flushed face. “Oh,” she says airily. “I learned here and there.”

That isn’t really an answer, but I’m a bit breathless and I let the subject drop.

I spin her, pull her between my feet, and finally toss her as if she were a gymnast or skater. She flips in the air, coming down beside me to finish in my arms without missing a single beat.

The room explodes in applause. Her cheeks are flushed, and her bosom heaves from the exercise. Her eyes are shining. “Glorious!” she says, “Absolutely glorious! You kept up with me all the way.”

I grin at her. “You didn’t make it easy for me,” I say.

She giggles at that. “Did you like it?” she asks.

“I did,” I say. “But I think one dance is enough.”

The DJ puts on a waltz, and we move to the music. The dance competition dies down after our performance. We move with the gentler music, and other couples join us on the floor.

Maddy is warm and solid in my arms. Her hair smells like lemons, and she has that delicate aroma of a woman aroused. It’s intoxicating.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper in her ear, dancing toward our table.

“Sure,” she whispers back, her lips close to mine. I look down at them, already imagining what they feel like, what they taste like, but I tear my gaze away and pull her after me.

I waltz her around, past our table, where she snags her purse. We dance our way through the exit door and into the hall.

As we emerge into the cool night air, Maddy says, “I hope you’re not leaving early just for me.”

“What?” I ask, as drunk on the perfume of her as if we had actually spent the night drinking cocktails. “Oh, no. I have a much better idea for a party that’s much more…exclusive.””

“All right,” she says, suddenly a little uncertain.

“The only question,” I say boldly, “is my place or yours?” I grin at her, my feet picking up the faint beat of the music from inside as I moonwalk backwards beside her.

She pauses a moment, then says, “Yours. I live in a dorm. Some of the girls do sneak guys in, but I think I’d rather not.”

“I think I’d rather not, too,” I say, leading her to my car. I hit the clicker on my key fob. My car chirps and the wing doors open up.

“I can’t believe you have one of these,” Maddy says as she slides into my Tesla Model X.

“I spoil myself from time to time,” I say.

“Hey, if you have the cash, why not?” she says.

I suppress my discomfort at the mention of money. I hate when people assume that my family’s money has made things easier for me. In so many ways that’s not true. But I know Maddy doesn’t mean anything by what she’s saying. She’s just being honest and direct.

It is a short drive to my brownstone walk-up. The place is modest, especially by my family’s standards. But I can afford it without drawing on family resources and it has a secure parking garage that can be reached through an underground entrance.

“Hey, Bert,” I say, as we approach the security kiosk walking arm in arm.

“Good evening, ” the middle aged security guard says. “Visitor?”

“Yes,” I say. “This is Madeline, who says pooh-pooh to lions in the zoo.” I realize I’m being silly, but Maddy giggles, and that makes it worth having made such an odd comment to the security guard.

“Oh, yeah?” he says to us. “My mom used to read that book to my sisters. Never thought I’d meet a real Madeline.”

“Nice to meet you,” Maddy says politely.

We step into the rickety old freight elevator and ride up to my apartment. Maddy immediately goes to the window, which has a view of the nearby park. Street lights illuminate the bear sculptures that guard the gate across the way.

“Beautiful,” she says softly.

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