Page 126 of Between the Lines

It’s why my eyes go directly to her when I stand behind that podium. Why my gaze centers on her to be my anchor in the unwavering sea that always has me off kilter. Claire calms the waters. Anchors me in the storm of self-doubt. Reminds me that I am more than just my past, more than just a caregiver to my brother, more than the shell of who I’ve let myself become.

With one smile, she makes me believe that I can be so much more than I ever allowed myself to be. When fear trickles down my spine at that thought, I let her gaze hold me steadily.

fifty

claire

“I toldyou that I have two left feet.”

Nathan glances down his nose at me, sayingI told you sowith the tilt of his head and the slight lift of his brow. I giggle, shaking my head as I press closer to him, despite the fact that hedidjust squish my big toe.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this free in my entire life.

We’re pressed up close to one another on the dance floor, a sea of people surrounding us, and yet, it’s like we’re alone, out in the middle of the ocean with nothing but each other. I feel so relaxed with him. His arms are a safe space, where the pressures of everything in my life halt, because nothing can be so scary if I have Nathan to fall back on.

That thought has been a bug in my ear all night—allweek, really, while we’ve been playing house. And I’m not sure what to do with it. I’ve thought about bringing it up, the stirrings of feelings I’ve never once had, let alone can put a name to. I know intrinsically that my man of few words wouldn’t have to ponder long before he found the right ones. But I’ve held back, too caught up in playing pretend because I’ve been afraid to pop the bubble.

I certainly won’t be bringing it up tonight. Not after the absolute bliss we’ve had together. I’ve seen the business side of Nathan, shaking hands with donors, supporters, and hospital staff. I’ve seen the same Nathan who appeared the other night at the shelter, the one who did the Chicken Dance and the Cha-Cha Slide, and even participated in the Limbo contest. And now, I’ve got him all to myself.Dancing.

I didn’t even have to beg. He actually had to steal me away from a twelve-year-old who asked if I would dance with him since hejust rang his bell. I had to wipe my tears, of course.

No. I won’t bring talk about feelings into this night when my heart is too full offeelingthem to put them into words.

“Are you having fun?” he asks. His thumbs spread over my lower back and press me closer to his chest as Frank Sinatra lulls over the speakers.

“Yes. Thank you for bringing me here, Nathan. I…”

My chin dips as I look beside us, to the gala surrounding us, filled withhispeople. Doctors and donors and patients. People who have been a part of his story. It’s overwhelming, that he trusted me enough with this part of his life, let alonewantsme in his arms for the night.

“Thank you for trusting me to hold your hand throughout all of this. It means the world to me.”

It goes so far beyond theneed. He may have needed someone here to hold his hand, but hewantsme here, beside him, laughing with the last remaining people inside of his fold, and that has butterflies lifting my heart and taking off with it.

We sway like that, back and forth on the dance floor, with our feet planted firmly on the ground so that no one’s toes get stepped on, for a few dances. The lull of the music plays second fiddle to the beat of Nathan’s heart beneath my ear, to the strong hands that hold me up, to the steady breath that has somehow synced to mine.

He lifts my chin with his thumb, and I can see the depth to thepools of his eyes, the yearning in whatever waits to be said on his parted lips. I brace myself, somehow instinctively knowing that whatever it is will be important, when we’re interrupted.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It’s Dr. Marty.

Nathan clears his throat, squeezing me tightly before stepping back and extending his arm.

“She’s all yours. But just for this dance. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Dr. Marty salutes him with two fingers, and takes my hand in his. “Sheesh.I don’t know what you’ve done to that boy, but the only other woman I’ve seen him possessive of was his momma.”

I flush immediately. The few times Nathan has brought up his mother, he’s spoken theworldof her.

“I just make him grilled cheese sandwiches and make sure he doesn’t work too late.”

“He needs that. You’re good for him, Claire. Don’t let his walls deter you. You might have to climb them on occasion, but don’t forget to make him toss you the rope.”

I ponder that, recalling all of the ropes he has already thrown me.

“When was the last time he brought a date to the gala?”

Dr. Marty’s brows lift, his expression twisting to say,I think you know the answer.

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