Page 2 of I Wanna Dance

“Me neither. The last time I danced was…God, I can’t even remember.”

“My younger daughter’squinceañera. She’s twenty now.” His eyes flashed with memories, not all good. He swallowed when he noticed my gaze. “It was…the last time I danced with my wife.”

I quirked an eyebrow. Divorced? Separated? No…widower. I was sure of it.

He confirmed I was correct. “She passed three years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Gracias.”

Viviana moved to the center of the room, demonstrating the essential salsa step with an ease that made it look far more straightforward than it was. “One, two, three—step! Five, six, seven—step! Gentlemen, lead your partners with poise. Ladies, follow with grace. And don’t forget to smile—you’re supposed to be having fun!”

“Glad she reminded us,” I quipped.

Marco chuckled, amused.

He and I tried to mirror Viviana and her partner’s steps, and for the first few minutes, it was a disaster. His movements were too big, mine were too small, and our timing was hilariously off. At one point, I tripped over his foot, and he caught me by the elbow, steadying me as I burst into laughter.

“Sograceful,” I moaned, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face.

“You’re doing fine,” he assured me. “I’m the one making this hard.”

“Well, as long as we’re equally terrible, I think we’re going to be fine.”

By the time we got through the first set of steps without tripping, I could feel the beginnings of sweat on my forehead. There was something oddly exhilarating about this kind of orchestrated fumbling.

“So, who gave you dancing classes as a gift?” I asked during a brief water break.

“My daughters.” He leaned against the mirrored wall as he guzzled water from a bottle. “They think I need to get out more. You?”

“My friend and colleague, Alana,” I grinned. “Same reason as yours.”

“You have children?” he asked casually.

I hated that question people so innocuously threw around.

“Yes.” I set my water bottle down, not wanting to elaborate.

I was ashamed that I was estranged from my children. I lost my daughter to my ex even though he was the one who cheated on me—but she couldn’t forgive me for not giving him a chance, letting him make up forhismistake. I lost my son to histhen-girlfriend and now fiancée. Olivia didn’t like me. I had tried to find out why so I could fix it with her, but to no avail.

“Should we get back?” I put on a smile to hide my discomfort.

Marco didn’t press me, taking the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it.

It had been so much easier to date when I was younger.

Not that I was on a date with Marco or anything.

But when I met Kevin twenty-eight years ago, when I was a naïve eighteen, I’d had no baggage, no areas that were off limits for discussion. I was an open book.

I wasn’t ashamed of my body. That came later after I had children, and Kevin kept at me for letting myself go, comparingme to the wives of his friends who’d stayed in shape and didn’t have saggy tits or a potbelly.

When I was younger, I didn’t worry about whether I was attractive—I didn’t care because I had my whole life ahead of me. Now, I couldn’t ignore the truth: I wasn’t attractive anymore, and I feared that whatever time I had left would be spent alone, without love, because of it.

“Alright, everyone,” Viviana called out. “Let’s get back to work. But let’s face it, what they say is true. Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

We shuffled back to the center of the room.

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