Page 35 of Drowning Erin

He nods at my drink. “Slam it and we’lldance.”

Rob isn’t merely a guy who’d prefer not to dance. He’s a guy who’s horrified by the idea. I haven’t been able to persuade him to get on the dance floor anywhere since we first starteddating.

“It’s been so long I don’t rememberhow.”

“I’ve seen you dance,” he says, cutting me off. “You dance like someone who does it for aliving.”

“Are you saying I dance like astripper?”

“I’m saying you dance like a dancer. One who’d potentially be a fucking awesome stripper.” And with that he pulls me into thecrowd.

For the first few seconds I feel awkward, my limbs stiff and unnatural, as if this is something I’m no longer supposed to do. But the crowd pushes us close, and under the throb of the bass, his hips guiding mine, it all comes back to me. I find myself moving—so in sync with him you’d think we’d been doing it all of our lives. It’s fun, but it’s also something so much more than that. It reminds me of another time, a time when things still felt possible. It’s not a specific memory, just a general sense of well-being, excitement, a sense that all was right with the world and only gettingbetter.

Dancing is another of the many things I loved, and gave up—live music, biking, baking, watchingGrey’s Anatomy. It’s more like I didn’t just tone myself down for Rob, I killed myself offentirely.

The song changes into something slower, more bass. Brendan’s hands land on my hips, and with them comes the memory of those hands as we danced at Olivia’s wedding. It’s perhaps the most dangerous memory Ihave.

He’d spent the entire night hitting on the wedding coordinator, so I was surprised when he asked me to dance. I was more surprised by the way he pulled me against him—a way that felt decisive, almost aggressive. I’d wanted to object, but I also wanted to sear the moment into my memory so thoroughly that I would never forget a single piece of it: his fingers on my skin, his smell, his gaze sweeping over my face in a way it never hadbefore.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he’d said, his voice rough and low, still watching my face as if it were the last time he’d ever see it. That’s when his hands slid to my hips, hands so impossibly large that I was certain he could wrap them around me if he really tried. Things with Rob had been new then, and I couldn’t even remember who he was when Brendan looked at me thatway.

I’m also finding it hard to remember Rob right now, four years later. All I can see is the stubble on Brendan’s jaw, the tiny, beautiful scar at the top of his right cheekbone, and the look in his eyes as they brush over myface.

“I think the last time I danced was withyou,” I tell him. “At Will and Olivia’swedding.”

His eyes hold mine, a question there I can’t quite read. “I thought you’dforgotten.”

I’m not sure how he thinks I could have forgotten. That was the night he ruined everything, the night I gave up on him for good and decided to move on. I’ll never forget thatnight.

I thought I’d never forgive him for it either, but here Iam.

He pulls me closer, and I realize neither of us is breathing normally. His eyes flicker to my mouth and hold there, and I feel just as desperate for him as I did the last time we were likethis.

Yes, Brendan, doit.

I think it for only a moment, and my mouth parts as if being directed by someone other than me while his hands tighten around my hips. It’s so much like the last time, except I remember how that timeended.

Then—and only then—do I remember Rob. Rob who put me back together the last time Brendan broke myheart.

I pull away, unable to think of a single word I can use to explain or justify what I very nearly did, and I’m struck by a realization that sickens me: I didn’t give up on him after Olivia’s wedding. No matter what happens, no matter what he does, Brendan will always be the one I wantmost.

26

Erin

Present

Brendan movesout the following Wednesday, which I know only thanks to a Post-it note he leaves on my kitchen table, along with the key to the pool house. I haven’t seen him once since Saturdaynight.

I tell Rob Brendan has moved out and he says, “See? I told you it wouldn’t lastforever.”

The problem is I’d begun to wish itwould.

* * *

On Monday morning,Harper warns me that it’s going to be a rough day. “Timothy got reamed out by the chancellor last night,” she says. “I guess there was an error insomething.”

I sigh heavily and rest my head against the back of my chair. There are so many bad parts about my job, but this is the worst: one tiny error in a brochure, and you may have just ruined a $10,000 print job. One tiny error means it’s possible you’ll be fired, and it’scertainyou’ll never hear the end ofit.

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