Page 99 of Hot Shot

Back out on the patio, beneath twinkling white lights strung above us and the stars far above that, Hayden and Beck dance first, to Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight,” then Carrie and I join, along with Cade and the date he brought. Having her in my arms like this, my hand on her hip, breathing in that familiar vanilla musk scent, is excruciating. We don’t talk, but our eyes meet and hold as we slowly move to the music. My chest burns and my skin feels tight, like I’m going to burst out of it in agony. It’s almost unbearable, the urge to pick her up and carry her out of here pushing at my skin from the inside.

“Your speech was great.”

“Thank you. You and Cade were funny. But touching. You’re both good friends to Beck.”

“We’d do anything for each other.”

“I know.”

I hold her gaze as more couples join us on the dance floor. “So you leave Saturday morning.”

“Yes.”

“You’re all set.”

“Yes.” She pauses. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah?” My heart bumps.

“It’s up in the suite. When we’re done here, I’ll go get it.”

“I, uh, actually have something for you, too.”

“Oh.”

The song ends and Beck and Hayden part and move to pair up with Beck’s parents, Hayden dancing with Mr. Whitcomb, Beck with his mom. I meet Carrie’s eyes and she nods, and we make our way through the salon to the hotel lobby and elevators. There are other events going on at the hotel this evening and people mill about, so we aren’t alone until we get off the elevator. My room’s on the same floor.

“I’ll meet you at the suite,” I tell her.

“Okay.”

Weeks ago, Carrie and I talked about staying here at the hotel the night of the wedding and I booked a room, which I will now sleep in alone. May as well use it so I don’t have to worry about drinking and driving. Because once my best man duties are done, I’m going to be drinking. A lot.

I make the quick trip into the dark room to retrieve the wrapped gift I brought for her. I didn’t know if I’d have the guts to give it to her, but she gave me the perfect opening.

I knock softly on the door and she opens it, then moves to the dresser and picks up the big wrapped package in two hands. She turns to face me. The only light in the room comes from the floor lamp in the corner, illuminating the gleaming waves of her golden hair.

Trying not to show any emotion, I extend my gift to her. “This is for you.”

We exchange gifts.

“Should we open them?” I ask.

She rubs a hand up and down her forearm. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to. You can look at it later.”

“Let’s do it. You first.”

She unwraps the layers of tissue wound around the small metal sculpture. A dolphin. She gazes at it. “It’s beautiful, Marco.”

“Dolphins are friendly, sociable, and playful.” I swallow thickly. “ They’re like you.”

Her head jerks up and our eyes meet.

“They’re also incredibly smart,” I add, my voice gruff. “Like you.”

Her eyes shine in the lamp light. We stare at each other in a moment that stretches out painfully. Then I blink down at the package I’m holding. I rip the paper off slowly and hold the framed photograph in both hands, staring at it. Then I close my eyes. “Wow. That is amazing.”

She presses her lips together, shifting from one foot to the other.

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