Page 51 of The Sweet Spot

Swallowing, I set down my drink and stand. I love Dallas, but he’s young and clueless. And drunk, judging by the bottle of champagne at his feet. He’s been yammering away with his buddies for the past fifteen minutes, leaving the pretty girl at his side to languish. I won’t be an interloper, butI’m okay with teaching little Dally a lesson.

Wren’s lips part as I approach. She seems to sit up a little straighter, never once looking away.

“Want to dance?” I ask, stopping just in front of her.

She gives me a surprised, but pleased, smile. “Yes, I would.” Setting the champagne flute on a small table nearby, she gets to her feet. The movement jostles Dallas, who does a double take when he sees me.

“I’m borrowing your girl,” I say, wanting to see if he’ll bite. I want to know where they stand.

He opens his mouth and closes it, looking between the two of us. Then, shrugging, he waves his hand. “Have fun, I guess. Come back and find me when he becomes insufferable, Wren.”

She gives his hair a playfully sharp tug, prompting him to reach back and pinch her thigh. I step back, pulling her away before their little game goes any further. Dallas’ eyes meet mine with a dark twinkle—game on, motherfucker—as we leave the fire.

“I’ll have you back before midnight,” I tease, offering my arm.

Eyes shining, she slips her arm through as we thread through the crowd. “This party is like a fairytale, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agree. “This is my fourth New Year’s Eve being invited to this event, and I swear every time, it’s more over the top than the one before.”

“I’ve never been to anything like it,” she says with a sigh, gazing around. “I’m so glad I came.”

“I am glad you did, too.”

Her eyes dart back to me, and she smirks. “Are you flirting with me, Luca?”

“Do you want me to be?”

Roses bloom on Wren’s cheeks. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Those postcards…you said you got them eventually?” I tighten my grip on her as we leave the grass for the steps of the deck. “Did they get lost or something? I found the Sweet Spot’s address online, maybe they got rerouted or something.”

“I think they made it all right. My boss just misplaced them.” Now she’s the one tightening her grip. “He sent them to my mother once he found them.”

I nod, leading her around a cluster of people.

“I would’ve written you back had I gotten that first one on time.” She offers a shy smile. “I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Come on. That night was pretty memorable.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?” she asks, looking ahead as we breeze through the open French doors. “Before you left the country, I mean.”

I pause, thinking back to that summer. There are a few reasons I didn’t go back to the boardwalk, but they’ll all sound lame, like our time together didn’t mean anything to me. Instead of going on to the solarium, where everyone’s dancing, I maneuver Wren into the Morgans’ library. It’s a real old-money type room, filled with books and art and ornate armchairs. It’s also quiet and devoid of guests, although by the discarded champagne flutes, hasn’t been for long.

Closing the door, I cross the room to put some space between us. “I had a lot going on that summer. Things were rocky with my dad, and I wasn’t in the best headspace. I had to leave sooner than expected, and with all the shit I needed to get done I didn’t want to get caught up.”

Her eyes fly to mine. “Caught up?”

I chuff softly, charmed by her complete lack of artifice. “In you.”

Blinking, she looks at the floor. “What would’ve been so bad about that?”

“Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it except for the timing.”

“We could have kept in touch on social media or something.” She fingers the beads on her purse. They’re the same shade of red as the roses on her dress. “But I guess you thought we’d never see each other again.”

“Yeah. Didn’t you?”

Shrugging, she turns to look at a painting on the wall, a watercolor of two horses racing down a sun-bleached beach. “I don’t know.”

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